PirateJohn's Most Excellent Journey Through Life

2011-06-16T12:19:00.000-07:00

Omar Landeros, architectural and interior photography. www.OmarLanderos.com

New Orleans and Bay St. Louis, Mississippi

2006-12-02T08:46:00.000-08:00

I thought that I would share some of our photos of our Turkey Day trip to Bay St. Louis, Mississippi and New Orleans with y'all.

Some of it is very lighthearted and typically Pirateesque -- bars, casinos, and general fun and mayhem.

And some of it is very, very dark. With the exception of the casinos in Mississippi, there appears to have been little in the way of reconstruction in the hurricane zones. Highways are still being rebuilt (and that's understandable, since these are big projects) but FEMA trailers are still the most popular form of habitation throughout many areas. Entire neighborhoods are still devastated. We need to keep those folks in our thoughts and FEMA in our minds the next time that we go to the ballot box, no matter what your political persuasion is.

Of particular interest to many of you will be the photos of Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville New Orleans, the Dixie Brewing Company, and Fats Domino's house.

Enjoy!

http://www.fototime.com/inv/2245DB13C0EF8D0

My Journey to the Dark Side

2006-10-27T08:51:00.000-07:00

October 25, 2006

A few folks have wondered where my travel tales have been this year. Or when I was going to start writing my next book. Those projects have been put hold so far this year, I’m afraid. And I really haven’t ridden my bikes very much this year, either.

I have to confess. I am embarking on a journey that may be disturbing to some.

I am at that point in life where the Significant Other and I have bought a motor home.

But not just any RV. The previous owners’ kids used to call this thing Jesus because that was the comment that their motorhome would get when they pulled into a campground or a restaurant: “Oh Jesus, look at that!”

The previous owners also had a brown moose mascot for this thing. We have the brown moose secured in a place of honor, just so no one forgets their heritage.

Aren’t motorhomes the province of retirees and old people? Funny, because I don’t feel particularly old – at least as long as I don’t look in the mirror – and I’m certainly not planning to retire anytime soon.

And I don’t particular like the food at the Cracker Barrel, either. So I can’t be that old. Even if I do hear that most Cracker Barrels have RV parking.

I remember going to a motorcycle event in the Florida Keys several years ago that had attracted scores of folks who had ridden for hundreds, if not thousands, of miles to get to the now-defunct Knight’s Key Campground in Marathon. There were folks with some very elaborate camping setups that they were carrying on their motorcycles. And during an evening BS session I dared – DARED, I tell ya – to comment that “Y’know … if I did this regularly I’d have a motorhome with air conditioning, showers, and plenty of martini fixins’ and I’d park it over yonder <pointing to a nice spot near where we were sitting and telling lies>”

And a hush fell over the place because I had broken one of the cardinal rules of the serious motorcyclist. I had dared to admit that I might consider trailering my bike instead of droning up and down those boring stretches of I-95 that I know all too well.

A few years go by and what do I discover? One of the folks that I was hangin’ with that night, a lady who sells motorcycle camping equipment no less, has purchased a semi-retired horse carrier on a Volvo truck chassis that she plans to convert into a motorhome mit motorcycle carrier. Go figure.

So I am hoping that, in the long run, I will actually be able to do more and better motorcycling with the motorhome because I will be able to transport a bike, maybe some friends’ bikes, along with tools and luggage, to a location where we can set up camp and ride for several days, instead of having to constantly shuttle between my North Florida home and that places that I really want to ride at. The flexibility should actually give me more quality riding time and less time commuting on boring roads to and from the house. Plus, there are some places that I have wanted to explore for some time (read: in the Smoky Mountains and in Mexico’s Copper Canyon) that I simply cannot ride without a dedicated off road bike and the motorhome and trailer combination will give me the opportunity to carry a spare dirt bike.

So that’s the plan, at any rate. Stay tuned. We will see what the next few years hold.

Photos of this monster, a/k/a The Beast, at

http://www.fototime.com/inv/08796AFE564A64B

(to be continued)

Labor Day weekend trip to Myrtle Beach (high Margaritaville content)

2006-09-19T07:23:00.000-07:00

Bosswoman, a/k/a She Who Must Be Obeyed (with apologies to the late, great Leo Kern), and I drove up to Myrtle Beach to do the Tacky Tourist Tour over the Labor Day holiday. The intent was to hit some of the places in Myrtle that would appeal to Parrotheads. While up there we made an impromptu trip to Wilmington, NC. The next day we drove back down along the coast and stopped in at Charleston. The photographic evidence is presented here:

http://www.fototime.com/inv/1F9BA8FA122A21C

Enjoy!

Ratings and reviews in a nutshell:

Margaritaville of Myrtle Beach -- great fun, very classy place in a touristy way. Someday I'm going to spend a lazy afternoon there just watching the tube and the tourists and drinking a few.

Senor Frog's -- a bit of a disappointment. I had passed on their locations in Mexico because I heard they were "too American." Given a chance to hit the only US location (they are a Mexican corporation) I thought that they would be a bit more Mexican. Not really. And the bartender that we got obviously didn't want to be there that day. We'll hit one of their places for comparison when we go back to Mexico but the Myrtle Beach experience with them wasn't great.

Cheeseburger in Paradise -- pretty good, but not as extraordinary as Margaritaville. The prices on the food was reasonable, however, and seeing reproductions of the handwritten notes when Buffett wrote Margaritaville was pretty neat. If it wasn't for knowing that there was a Margaritaville in town this place would have moved up a notch or two on the scale.

Trip to Wilmington, where I used to live -- priceless.

Margaritaville Store in Charleston -- actually much more fun that I expected. It's a BIG store. We were in Charleston and wanted to pick up a few things and said "what the heck," so we looked the place up.

Like I always say, we all need to get out a bit. Deb and I have been working on reconditioning a motorhome all summer long and that has severely impacted other trips. The Labor Day trip was a MUST DO situation, and it was great for the soul.

Art of the Motorcycle

2006-05-11T10:46:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago Yours Truly led a ride to Orlando to see the local Art of the Motorcycle display. This is more or less the same display that originated at the Guggenheim Museum several years ago and which has traveled around the world, starting in New York and then hitting Spain, Japan, and finally Vegas. I was fortunate to catch the original 300 bike show in Las Vegas in 2002. Now a smaller, but quite magnificent show is running in Orlando thru July 23rd.

Check out the photos at http://www.fototime.com/inv/85BE2277BFD39B1

And for more info in the Orlando show go to http://www.omart.org/aom/pages/AOMhome.html

Website update

2006-04-02T20:18:00.000-07:00

Just wanted to let y'all know that I've added a photo or two and a few links to the ol' web site. Check it out at http://www.PirateJohn.com

My Mexican trip concludes

2006-01-08T07:15:00.000-08:00

Greetings friends --

It's Sunday morning and I'm somewhere a bit west of Houston. I have added to and updated my travel photos. Call me biased, but I think that the captions tell the story more than I can with just the written word. You can check them out at http://www.fototime.com/inv/310309400F90334

I entered Mexico at the Brownsville/Matamoros Port of Entry with the initial expectation of riding south a bit and then quickly heading to the Pacific Coast because my riding companion needed to meet up with other folks in Mazatlan. However, when Tom realized how slow the going was going to be in Mexico we changed plans and he went directly towards the west while I decided to explore a bit more along the Gulf Coast.

My stops for the nights were in C. Victoria, and then four nights in the general vicinity of Tampico. Upon returning to the north I spent one night in the boondocks perhaps 70 miles south of Monterrey (those are the shots of the no-tell-motel) and then two nights in beautiful Monterrey, Nuevo Leon. My final night was spent in the border town of Nuevo Laredo, and then I crossed the border yesterday. You can follow the track of where I have been by going to http://www.star-traxx.com/TripReport.asp?TripID=597865010 . This is more or less real time feed from a satellite tracking device that I am carrying. Ain't technology wonderful!

Mexico is a wonderful nation, with friendly people and a very bright future ahead of it. It is rapidly developing and growing to compete with the new world economy, but as with any nation going through a transformation there are growing pains. The motorcycle riding there offers great entertainment, and the sights, sounds, smells, and textures are all foreign to American senses and that is a good thing because it keeps us thinking about alternatives. We can learn a lot from our partners down south.

~~~~~~~
PirateJohn
www.PirateJohn.com

In Tampico's Playa on Monday. More to come.

2006-01-04T15:12:00.000-08:00

The article below was written on Monday 1-2-2006. It has taken me 2 days to find another workable Internet connection so that I could send it out and get those photos uploaded.

I am now alive and well and staying at the very nice Best Western Centro in Monterrey. Monterrey is quite modern, and this Best Western is excellent, especially since I spent last night at a $25/night no tell motel (complete with the Christian sign-of-the-fish and the Playboy Channel in English!) in the boondocks maybe 65 miles from here. That was after rejecting the previous town's best hotel -- no matter how you slice it $19US per night is not a bargain when there is no air conditioning, the plumbing is a suggestion, and all of your neighbors look like they have been working in the fields during the day.

All kidding aside the last two days have been great riding and have gone a long way towards restoring my enthusiasm for Mexico. I now realize that I got routed down two days of unusually tough roads that could have been avoided by a change in route. More to come later.

~~~~

Howdy y'all -- I'm trying to update my photos at http://www.fototime.com/inv/310309400F90334 but the Internet connection is slow. Beyond slow. So hopefully by the time that you read this the deed will have been done. I've shot something like 500 photos, but only the cream of the crop (yeah, right) are presented here.

After three days of hanging around Tampico I finally found Paradise. Or close enough, anyway. The Playa Madero. Interestingly, all of my tour books give it less than great reviews but either they have not updated their listings for the last several years or no one bothered to travel north on the beach strand because there is the beginnings of a tourist resort here. Neat place.

I have found my Canadian buddy Henry's clean (according to him) hotel that he gets for $6.50 a night as well as the $75/night hotel that I stayed in. There is a little bit of everything here, and a very broad spectrum to match any taste or style. Nice places, traditional low-budget Mexican places, and a beach where the authorities will allow gringos to camp out on (hear that RVers?). This place has a lot going for it.

I would love to hang here, and in 20/20 hindsight wish that I had found this place before I spent 2 days hanging downtown, but no matter. It's time to get the wheels rolling again. Heading back north with the idea of exploring closer to Monterrey. Chat with y'all later!

To track down ol' John go here: http://www.star-traxx.com/TripReport.asp?TripID=597865010

~~~~~~~
PirateJohn
www.PirateJohn.com

Still alive! First part of the late 2005 Mexican trip

2006-01-02T13:09:00.000-08:00

I'm doing OK, but I was beginning to think that my laptop had died. It appears, however, that I've simply gotten bum wireless connections at the last three motels that I have stayed at. One has to laugh. I'm sending this out to friends and a few discussion groups that I either am on or moderate, so if you get the message repeatedly, or if some parts don't apply to y'all, I apologize.

I'm meandering a bit through Mexico at the moment, and working on my own "Tampico Trauma" it would appear. To track down ol' John go here: http://www.star-traxx.com/TripReport.asp?TripID=597865010 To see the photos try here: http://www.fototime.com/inv/310309400F90334

Left home in Northern Florida on Tuesday AM with a pal who is on the way to meet up with another guy in Mazatlan, and they are heading to South America. Tom and I rode hard (something around 1,200 miles) to get to the Texas/Mexico border in two days. After getting Tom through the paperwork at the border we were going to meander towards Tampico and back up towards Monterrey, but the first day was a bit of a killer (strong cross winds and tough, slower roads than expected) so we have changed our plans a bit. Tom's going on towards Mazatlan (and a crossing of the lower Sierra Madres in the winter, which should be fun) while I think that I'll explore the Gulf Coast a bit for the next few days. The weather is pleasantly warm with a little chill as the sun sets. My face is getting sunburned. So for those of you in colder climates (and it was fairly cool when I left northern Florida) eat your hearts out ;)

ol' John spent last night in Ciudad Victoria, which seems to be mostly a town on the way to other towns. Pretty good sized place however; I was watching the television news and was surprised at how professional the production was and that it was a local production to boot, when I would have thought that they would have been getting their news from a "big city" like Monterrey instead. Ironically, I was approached by a camera crew while taking some photos; they wanted to interview me but I excused myself after using up my only two words of Spanish ("norte Flo-ree-da") and moved on.

Today's ride from Victoria to a small town 30 miles south of Tampico (I must have a chat with Best Western; this was supposed to be in the suburbs of Tampico and it ain't!) was great fun, but it took me up a couple of small mountain ranges that I didn't expect and through several towns that are pretty much the equivalent of frontier towns in a day and age when the big truck has replaced the covered wagon. Certainly entertaining, but once again much more time consuming and tiring than traveling on the Interstates. Still, this is the way to see the country and meet the locals. Who, I might add, are almost universally friendly and helpful to this crazy old gringo who is obviously seriously lost. I wouldn't say that there are a lot of Norte Americanos down here, but there are a fair number that seem to winter around Tampico. And if someone is a lousy driver I hate to say it, but almost inevitably they have had Texas plates.

The roads that were marked on my maps as being four lane have almost all turned out to be like Texas farm roads -- a two lane road with a wide shoulder. However, here in Mexico, everyone drives on the shoulder! Bearing in mind that there is a fair amount of traffic, and you are sharing with a really wide variety of vehicles from bigger trucks than we have in the States to wheezing old cars and pickups and the occasional goat that has wandered onto the roadway, things are going surprisingly well. On the other hand it takes some getting used to to see a tractor trailer pull across the center line and into YOUR lane, all the time knowing that you need to move over to the shoulder. And did I mention guard rails? Armco needs to export some railing material here ;) So the riding is "sporty," let's put it that way.

I have also done a fair amount of two-lane no-shoulder no-guard rail mountain roads which are entertaining. This reminds me of being a kid in Kentucky when we would go to visit the relatives who lived in the hollar. The only catch is that those were country roads, these are major truck routes that I'm sharing with Kenworths and buses. (In fairness, Mexico has quite a few freeway quality roads. It's just that none of the freeways run down here). So that's my story and I'm sticking to it. Updates to the photos will be sent out periodically, and I'll keep my bike club and HumourList pholks updated, assuming that I can find another network connection.

Y'all have a happy New Year! I think that mine is going to be celebrated in Tampico ;) ~~~~~~~
PirateJohn
www.PirateJohn.com

Antics in the Smoky Mountains: a trip report

2005-12-01T05:52:00.000-08:00

Folks, I apologize that I haven't had an opportunity to write much this year about riding and traveling and all that jazz. ol' John has been on the road about as much as any previous year, but it's been a case of rushing here and rushing there and much of it has been for future book production purposes, which I can assure you ain't that exciting when you are in the trenches. The book on Northern Florida has been well received and I'm finishing up another book on Southern Florida and the Florida Keys. An introductory book on riding in Mexico is starting up and a friend of mine is going to co-author a book on riding in the Smoky Mountains. Photos of our recent Smoky Mountains adventure are at http://www.fototime.com/inv/822D8F9497E5640

A few weeks ago Ms. Jackie Flood and I did a trek into the Smoky Mountains for a few days. On the way to Atlanta ol' John's faithful motorcycle developed a slight glitch and so we had to detour by the BMW bike dealer in northern Atlanta. From there Jackie and I rode up the secondary roads to the little town of Tellico Plains, Tennessee. We crossed the fabulous Cherohala Skyway and spent the night in the little town of Robbinsville, NC. A warning to anyone following our trail -- Robbinsville is a dry town, which is a quaint way of saying that the only alcohol that you can buy there is sold under the table and packaged in Mason jars. My advice is to pack your rum with you if you are heading into the mountains.

One thing that I was learning quickly was that Jackie is a celebrity in these here parts. Jackie has been active for years in several clubs that ride in and out of the mountains, and she was interviewed on The Speed Channel the week before our ride. Never mind all of the riders who knew her, several non-riding folks, especially kids, recognized her immediately as The Chicken Lady. Chickens. Chicks. Chicks rule. Get it? Jackie is an experienced rider in this environment and is a tough act to follow.

Motorcycling in this area has become a major industry, largely because of the promotion of the Tail of the Dragon. The Dragon is a 11 mile stretch of US 129 at Deals Gap, North Carolina. It's beautiful, but with 318 curves in 11 miles there is no time for admiringthe mountainside because you are trying not to ride off the shoulderless roadway and down into the valley below . The day that we were there two accidents had occurred by 10:30AM and we were waiting for the ambulances to show up. The smell of testosterone and Castrol racing oils was especially heavy that day, and I suggested to Jackie that perhaps we should hit the Dragon on another trip. Jackie, who was showing the guys on go-fast bikes how to ride 'em, still hasn't forgiven me for passing up an opportunity to take on the Dragon.

We rode from Deals Gap through Fontana, Bryson City, Cherokee, and wound up in Maggie Valley, NC. Maggie Valley is the home of the amazing Wheels Through Time museum that specializes in American motorcycles, and we were pleasantly surprised when the owner gave us an after hours guided tour. I have known Dale Walksler for a few years, largely because of the Riding Into History vintage charity that we do here in Jacksonville (www.RidingIntoHistory.com) , and I must say that he has a reputation for being a fine gentleman and for being just absolutely the salt of the Earth. A great guy, and I highly recommend his museum for anyone passing through Maggie Valley, NC.

The next day dawned wet and nasty, as often happens in the Fall in the Smoky Mountains. Jackie and I rode almost to Asheville, and then split up to check out separate sights. She rode over one set of mountains back towards Atlanta and I hit another set and rode through Asheville and back home to Florida. All in all a great time, and I hope that you will enjoy our photos. As Rod Stewart would say, "every picture tells a story ..." Check those pictures out at http://www.fototime.com/inv/822D8F9497E5640

BMW's new mid-range bike

2005-09-30T09:18:00.000-07:00

Many blog entries ago I ran some spy photos of what was destined to become BMW's new mid-range 800cc bikes. Well here it is, in all of it's glory. Twin cylinders, and with a belt driving the rear wheel, rather than a chain or the traditional BMW driveshaft. The initial comments online have been pretty positive.

Actooly, what I had meant to do at the time that I ran the spy photo of the F-800 was to run commentary on all the other bikes that BMW is bringing to market -- the super fast K1200S and the all conquering off road R1200HP ("HP" standing for either high perfomance or high price, depending on your perspective). BMW is rapidly changing their entire lineup, which is quite a contrast from the days that us olde phartes well remember well there was basically one bike available and you could get it in black or white. Sometimes.

And then there's my latest obsession. The K1200P. A bike that was never imported into the USA and which few know that it even exists. Stay tuned, because that may become an epic tale if I take the plunge to get one.

So for you gearheads keep watching this space. If the creek don't rise maybe I'll get around to writing a bit about the tools of adventure traveling ;)

--PirateJohn--

BMW's press release on the F-800 follows:

PUSHING INTO THE MID-RANGE: The new BMW F 800 S twin-cylinder
09/29/2005

Munich. With its completely new mid-range sports bikes, BMW Motorrad is ringing in the next round of its model offensive. In the first half of 2006, the F 800 will be the fourth model series to come off the Berlin assembly lines and it is sure to stir up the middle class. The F 800 S is an 800-cc twin which offers lots of character, an excellent suspension and typical BMW properties.
The athletic F 800 S sports bike has a dry weight of under 419 lbs. (approx. 441 lbs. ready-to-ride) and is the first model of the new and separate model series. The precise suspension is designed for high directional and cornering stability as well as optimum handling. The classic BMW qualities such as safety, compliance with the highest environmental standards, ergonomic seating position and comfort also for the passenger define the new standard in the mid-range bike. A closed-loop three-way catalytic converter, state-of-the-art digital engine electronics and optional ABS are also a matter of course for this motorcycle. With regard to the drive-line, BMW Motorrad is continuing with the innovation introduced on the F 650 CS and makes use of the low-maintenance and quiet-running belt-drive. It is lighter than shaft drive and represents the optimum combination of weight, space requirements, efficiency and service life in this performance class. The engine is also a completely new design. It was developed in cooperation with Bombardier-Rotax GmbH. It is manufactured in the Austrian Rotax plant and is delivered to the Berlin production line ready-for-assembly. The first two-cylinder inline engine in the history of BMW Motorrad features a four-valve design. High 12:1 compression and a combustion chamber designed similarly to the one used in the new K-engine ensure effective and low-emission combustion, as well as efficient fuel consumption which will be considerably lower than that of the competition. Mass compensation for the crankshaft balances unwanted vibrations without foregoing the vigorous characteristics associated with two-cylinder engines. The compact engine unit with integrated 6-speed gearbox has been designed for
balanced power delivery and uncomplicated riding pleasure. A peak output exceeding 80 bhp with respective torque will also satisfy a sports-rider's needs. The new BMW F 800 S will be presented to the international press and then the public for the first time at the EICMA Motor Show in Milan on 15 November 2005.
The price has not yet been set.

Benefit for a fallen friend

2005-09-29T10:11:00.000-07:00

Every so often something happens that shakes us back to our very roots. Something that makes us realize either how lucky we are, or else fundamentally changes our own existence.

On Friday, July 8th at 9:45PM my friend and very popular local radio DJ Richard Langlois (Rick Baron to his audience) was riding his motorcycle on Beach Blvd. in Jacksonville when someone made an illegal U-turn in front of him. Exactly how Rich got hit is the matter of a some speculation because the police report doesn't jive with witnesses' accounts, but the upshot is that Rich was thrown from his new bike. He is now a quadraplegic with very limited use of his arms.

Our favorite local vintage motorcycle club, of which ol' John is proud to be el Presidente of, hired a private detective when it became obvious that the local Sheriff's ossifers weren't going to be able to energetically look for the person that struck Rich. Even more frustrating when you realize that the Sheriff's brother is a club member and that the Sheriff Himself attends our meetings every so often!

So far, alas, no luck in finding the person that struck Rich, despite canvassing all of the auto glass and bodywork places in town.

So we held a fund raiser for Rich. A poker run. And a good chunk of the Jacksonville riding community came out to help, despite threatening thundershowers from Huricane Katrina. Considering the devastation that Katrina was to cause in New Orleans a few days later we were very, very lucky.

Also very lucky was the last minute participation of none other than John Lennon's widow, Yoko One, who arranged for an exhibit of John's artworks. That show ran in loose coordination with our motorcycle event and frankly raised quite a bit more money for Rich and his family than our bike ride did by itself.

We need to count our blessings each and every day. Things could be much worse. And as I write this Rich has been transferred from a rehabilitation center in Atlanta to a VA hospital in Augusta, GA. We are cautiously optimistic that he will be home in a few more months. He's making noises about getting a three wheeled motorcycle and with any luck at all Rich will be back out on the road, hangin' with his friends.

Time flies!

2005-07-30T11:41:00.000-07:00

Man alive ... it's been over 2 months since I updated the blog!

ol' John is alive and well. I made several trips into southwestern Florida to research my upcoming book on Southern Florida and on the way back came down with bronchitis. So that pretty well took the wind out of my sails for something like six weeks.

Then tragedy struck a friend of mine. One of our motorcycle club members was hit by a hit and run driver. This episode has been receiving quite a bit of attention here in Jacksonville and, frankly, has been a major time consumer for Yours Truly for the last few weeks since I'm the el President of the bike club, and chief communicator and organizer. The bottom line is that we have hired a private detective and have some good leads that may lead us to the driver that struck Rich, and we will be holding a charity ride for him on August 27th. More details at http://www.abvmc.com/RickBaron.htm

Y'all be good, y'all be safe, and I hope to get caught up on some writin' during the next several weeks.

--PirateJohn--

www.PirateJohn.com

www.ABVMC.com

www.BuccaneerPress.com

Catching up

2005-05-12T08:19:00.000-07:00

Blog report 5-10-2005

Wow, it’s been a hectic last several weeks around here!

On April 23rd and 24th the lovely Ms. Deborah and I saddled up the Phantom Cruiser, met up with a friend of ours and fellow BMW K1200LT rider Gary Williamson, and headed down to the Leesburg Bike Festival. With a quick stop into the Cheyenne Saloon in Palatka for lunch we had a great ride through the Ocala National Forest and on down to Leesburg, Florida. Alas, the skies opened up soon after our arrival and while it was great fun hanging out at various biker-friendly and book-worthy bars (this was, after all, supposedly a working trip) we eventually had to beat an early retreat from Leesburg. Sum total of the days activities: many miles ridden, one very expensive camera badly damaged, one other digital camera wounded, and not a lot of decent photos unless you like to see folks huddled underneath awnings. So this was a tough trip. I guess the one positive thing is that no one got electrocuted; at one point, as we were hiding from the rain, and someone pointed out that we were all standing in water beyond our ankles and there were power lines running along the ground and through the water. Ye-haw

The next weekend my first saleable copies of the 2005 edition of PirateJohn’s Most Unique Guide to Motorcycling In Northeastern Florida (www.BuccaneerPress.com) arrived. They finally showed up at 10AM the day before we were scheduled to do a book signing at the Riding Into History charity. Not like the printer was cutting things close or anything.

Riding Into History (www.RidingIntoHistory.org) went well, with Dennis Cage of the Speed Channel in attendance. Last year’s speaker Craig Vetter (of Vetter Fairings fame) flew in on his own dime since he enjoyed the event so much last year. RIH draw more people this year than in any previous year, and 250 motorcycles were on display, up from 150 last year. This event is doing well and I’m proud of my work on it in years past, although currently I’m more than happy to limit my attendance to signing books.

We did have some great moments with some Tallahassee motor officers who were attending the show who were kind enough to pose for some joke photos. I’m sure that the photos of Yours Truly being handcuffed and traffic stopped will turn up again and again.

Following a successful book signing ol’ John did what any other Pirate would do. Have a few drinks, go home, and head out on the road for a few days.

John found himself wandering for several days as far south as Marathon, Florida and basically checking out the (very congested) roads throughout Miami and that “Greater Miami” mess that extends for about 80 miles from Ft. Lauderdale down to the beginning of the Florida Keys. Yours Truly found himself hitting pubs, gentlemen’s clubs, and touristy sights as diverse as Edward Leedskalnin’s Coral Castle in Homestead. Like I always say, it’s a tough gig but someone has to do it.

Departing from my last haunt, a great place called the Nuthin’ Fancy in the southern part of West Palm Beach, ol’ John rode a hard and fast 175 or so miles through driving rain to Mims, Florida where I was really, really impressed that I was having trouble standing up as I refueled the bike. Christ, my foot hurt.

The next morning the experience in Mims was somewhat academic, since I was having some genuine problems walking around, and my right ankle was red, warm and swollen. This didn’t look right.

Moral of the story is that PirateJohn had a blood clot in his right leg. I guess that I should consider myself lucky, because my dad had the same condition – phlebitis – and I’m developing this 15 years later in life than Dad did. And there is no way that Dad abused his body as thoroughly as ol’ John does ;)

Lesson to the wise here: If you have similar symptoms (red, swollen, tender area that feels warm to the touch) then head to your closest MD or hospital emergency room. A large blood clot that gets loose and lodges in something vital can kill you. Dead. And as we get older more and more of us will be developing these conditions.

A week later I’m fine, even if my ankle is still a bit tender. I expect to be back on the road in another week or two.

Take care, y’all!

Random thoughts

2005-04-19T09:13:00.000-07:00

Random thoughts …

Worst line that I’ve ever heard in a movie: “"Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Grandma is still beating off the Indians."

I had a senior moment when writing my account of the third day of my Everglades trip and connected the northern end of Rt. 27 with I-95. Several people wrote in to point out that Rt. 27 actually connects with I-4 up there. It’s gratifying to see that folks are actually reading the details, even if this olde pharte oftentimes gets the details wrong ;)

I’m somewhat dyslexic (maybe just senile at an early age?) and it’s amazing the number of times that I’ve turned east into west, north into south, and one highway into another highway. And writing a web blog without a proofreader is the writer’s equivalent of doing a high wire act without a net.

As I said, pity my proofreader for my books, who actually does a very good job and who puts up with my wisecracks about my marital status. Because … drum roll here … despite my jokes about mean ex- spousal units and bad relationships, my proofreader is actually one of those ex- spousal units. As Paul Harvey would say, now that you know the rest of the story …

Scott Adams, the creator and artist who draws the Dilbert cartoon strip, also does an excellent newsletter that you can subscribe to at http://www.dilbert.com

Scott writes that he has developed a disorder that has caused him to not only begin to draw Dilbert with his left hand, but also to switch to some computer aided graphics methods in order to change the scale of his drawings and basically trick his body into thinking that it is doing something other than drawing.

I’ve always liked Scott. For one thing, he is his own critic, but in a pleasant way. There are too many folks out there that do a creative product that are wrapped up in angst, fear and loathing. Not Scott. He manages to muddle through like the rest of us pragmatic folks.

Another reason that I appreciate Scott’s work is that he is plugging away despite a handicap that would drive many folks to retirement, if not despair and perhaps round the clock sessions at the local pub. I really enjoy the Dilbert cartoon strip and it is my selfish hope that Scott keeps us all entertained for many years to come.

After several delays on the delivery of printed copies of my book I’ve had a Come To Jesus discussion with the printer. They promised me that I’ll have at least enough books by Monday to mail them out to folks that have already ordered and paid for copies. Monday rolled around, and the books showed up. That was the good news. The bad news was that the printer used the wrong file and so these will have to be returned. As I write this things are heating up pretty quickly, so stay tuned. And for those of you who have placed orders for my book I appreciate your patience.

This whole thing about POD (print on demand) printing and distribution and the business end of publishing is entertaining, to say the least. Many of us have a book idea or two. That’s the good news. Making a viable business case out of printing the sucker is another matter. I’m very happy to discuss my feelings about the business side of publishing your own book or books with friends and acquaintances – no secrets here as far as I’m concerned and I’m definitely still learning. As one buddy put it, however, his wife has been on his case for several years about writing a technical book and after he talked to me for 10 minutes he told me that he was going to tell the wife to forget it. The good news is that, today, it is much easier to get a book into print than in olden days (like maybe 5 years ago). The bad news is that it is still a helluva lot of hard work, a potentially serious commitment of capital, and the competition is much stiffer these days than a few years ago.

Times change, and one has to move with the times. I’m very excited about my series of travel books but I’m far from being out of the woods on this one.

And, if you are in northern Florida and want to meet PirateJohn, it looks like I’ll be doing book signings at the following dates and locations. If I get books in time:

n April 30th, Riding Into History, World Golf Village north of St. Augustine. Go to www.RidingIntoHistory.com for more details on the event.

n May 15th, the Gold Club Custom Bike Show at Wild Bill’s Saloon, 8th and Talleyrand, Jacksonville, FL.

Needless to say, ifyou are planning to look up ol’ John then please confirm before driving 500 miles because these plans always have a way of changing. You know how that works.

And, oh yeah. If you are either a process server or a stalker (and you know who I mean, Billy, Karen, and your host of other aliases) then disregard the above. I won’t be there. Really.

A friend and I were discussing, of all things, funeral plans for when That Time Comes. She was talking about the music that she wanted to have played at her service and the music that was played at her husband’s funeral. Well, I had never given any thought to the sort of funeral music that I want to have played, but I was reminded that at my second wedding we snuck in Buffett’s “Why Don’t We Get Drunk And Screw.” The instrumental version only, of course. Now that was a major sentimental event.

I have left some simple instructions for my services:

n have a decent wake at a rider friendly bar

n bring my casket in at least 5 minutes after the posted time; that way people can honestly say that I was literally late for my own funeral

n put my cell phone in my pants pocket and have someone secretly call it. I just want to see if anyone has the guts to reach into the casket and get the phone

n scatter my ashes at Mallory Square in Key West. That way I can spend eternity in Paradise, and hopefully my ashes will spend as much time as possible getting into as many bikinis as possible

A quote that I enjoyed, because I thought that it put being slack into prospective:

I have come to the conclusion that my subjective account of my motivation is largely mythical on almost all occasions. I don't know why I do things.

J. B. S. Haldane

"Too much of the world runs on the premise that youdon't need road manners if you're driving a five-ton truck" – Anon

The passing of Misty the Wondercat

2005-04-14T09:42:00.000-07:00

4-14-2005

Misty the Wondercat, RIP

Misty the Wondercat passed away last night. Old age caught up with her, and following several days of weakness she appeared to have a heart attack and was gone in a few minutes.

During her prime years Misty was a fat, fluffy and loveable cat who brought new meanings to the concept of “feline energy conservation.” Her nickname of the Wondercat was a result of Misty's superfeline efforts to avoid exerting energy whenever possible.

The focus of two attempted catnapping plots by various old girlfriends of her servant (after all, no one owns a cat, if anything they own you), Misty came to the Pirate household as a stray kitten and remained in the household throughout the rest of her life.

In 1995 Romeo the Cat retired from show business in Key West to become part of the Pirate household. Upon meeting each other, Romeo and Misty were practically inseparable and would continue to be close friends throughout the rest of Misty’s life. Misty assumed the role of household CIC (Cat in Charge) upon the passing of the legendary Momma Cat the following year.

In her final year of life Misty’s daily routine included a long nap beneath her favorite tree. Misty was buried beneath that tree this morning, wrapped in her favorite blanket.

Rest in peace, old girl.

Day 3 of the Everglades Trip, continued

2005-04-12T15:17:00.000-07:00

( continued from the previous blog entry)

Continuing northbound I meet the same couple on the Reflex scooter that I saw earlier. She’s wearing a pink bikini, and while this isn’t my idea of the safest outfit to be wearing whilst motorcycling (‘sides, ol’ John simply wouldn’t look good wearing that little amount of clothing, no matter what, and that’s another reason for him to stay covered from head to toe), I’ve got to say that those folks looked like they were having a helluva lot of fun.

The big metropolis of La Belle and North La Belle (population 2,700) beckon. My intent is to turn eastbound on Rt. 80 and take a bit of a detour in order to see some more sights. Predictably I manage to miss my turn in a town that only has a few stoplights. Stop laughing now.

I’m back onto Rt. 80 going east to Clewiston (where I stayed the night before) and I need to refuel. The pump won’t cooperate and this is the first road that I’ve been on which is actually heavily traveled, so I’m getting to be in less than one of my better moods. I start riding and notice that I’ve got a bit of an itch on my chest.

A few miles later and that itch has moved across my chest and is working it’s way toward my right arm. Oh boy … there’s a bug inside my riding suit and I hope that it’s not a wasp or a bee.

Quickly pulling off the road, which has no shoulder, and onto the marshy grass I finally find a place firm enough to stop. I pull off my helmet, and then my jacket, and then start to unbutton my shirt. No doubt motorists coming by are shielding their kids’ eyes from the sight.

It’s a potato bug. Harmless, but irritating. I encourage him to take off and fly away.

Back on the road and I start riding northbound in Rt. 27, at this point retracing the roads where I was at yesterday. There is a rider friendly bar that I missed down here somewhere and I’m determined to find it.

I look and look for the pbar in the tiny little town of Moore Haven. The town’s only two cop cars are at the local Burger King and the officers are putting handcuffs on some poor schmuck so I ride over and say “Howdy … I hope that I’m not interrupting anything … but I’m looking for a bar ..."

The ossifers, bless their hearts, don’t seem to totally think that I’ve lost my mind and they point me in the right direction. The place they send me to is on a one-way street and under the approaches to the new bridge, so it’s no wonder why I cannot see it.

I cruise over there, have a beer, shoot the breeze with the bartendress and a few regulars, and actually have an interesting conversation with a lady who is on oxygen. She tells me that she’s pretty sure that her days are numbered, and cigarettes in her misspent youth didn’t do her any favors, but that she wants to spend her last days with her friends and her friends are all at this pub. Not a bad philosophy, actually.

Back on the road, and I find out later that although this was an interesting place and well worth visiting, it is not the place that other riders have suggested that I check out. So there is yet another reason to return to this area in the future. I have to find that missing bar.

From Moore Haven I wander back up Rt. 27. Rt. 27 is divided highway and gets to be increasingly congested the further north that you go. For now it’s not too bad. This is one of the Old Florida tourist routes before the Interstates were built and bypassed much of central Florida.

Gatorama is on the right so I turn around and have a look. Not bad, this is one of maybe a dozen or two dozen gator attractions around the state. It’s clean if small. I take a peek out the back to see the park and take a photo through the door. The ticket clerk, who must be in her 70’s and reminds me of a fighting chicken that has seen too manyrounds, cops an attitude and objects to my taking photos without buying a ticket. I point out to her that I’m writinga book that will help to promote the place and that, besides, it’s late and I don’t have the time to take a tour. She doesn’t care, she just wants her 10 bucks. I just laugh and walk outside and admire the sign out front that proudly proclaims that they have Florida crackers on display. I ask her about those crackers and she tells me that, yeah, they have a few that work there. I also notice that the sign that says there are deer on display has been crossed out. Wonder if the gators got loose or something?

Riding on I cannot find the semi-legendary Cypress Knee Museum that is supposed to be nearby. The word is that it has finally closed after the founder died a few years ago and many of his better cypress knees were stolen in a burglary. I’d like to confirm the closure, but like many old touristy things in Florida my suspicions are that it’s indeed gone, gone, gone. The owner used to do the talk shows – the story is that he turned down an appearance on Letterman because he thought that Letterman was too mean – so we are talking some serious American oddity here.

The town of Sebring comes up quickly. Sebring’s primary claim to fame is that the town is home to a legendary 12 hour sports car race. Sebring’s secondary claim to fame is that the area is a retirement village of the first order.

Ol’John detours a bit to find the race track, and they’ve got traffic to the race track routed through a small subdivision. No doubt the locals were just thrilled to death to have thousands of autos and hundreds of race car transporters driving down their tiny street the previous weekend when the 12 Hours of Sebring ran.

Sebring International Raceway turns out to be quite a place, and even though the big race was the previous weekend there are still quite a few race car transporters and other signs of an auto race intact. I ride around a bit, take some photos, and soak in a bit of the atmosphere and history.

Leaving the Sebring International Raceway property and heading back into the town of Sebring I am reminded that the legendary racing driver, Bob Wollek, was killed at Sebring in 2001. Not from an accident on the race track, but rather after being hit while riding his bicycle along Rt. 98. RIP Bob. I’ve had a poster of you driving the West Palm Grand Prix winning Porsche 962 (a race that ol’ John was fortunate enough to have seen in person) hanging in my office for years.

Rt. 27 is, as I mentioned earlier, one of the old tourist highways of Florida, in many ways forgotten now that the Interstates bring traffic closer to the coasts. The sunwas going down as I boogied swiftly through the towns of Avon Park, Haines, and Lake Wales. Retirees have now largely replaced the tourists in these towns. Riding by the signs for the now-reopened Cypress Gardens reminded meonce again how the attractions of old are fading fast in many parts of Florida.

Rt. 27 intersects with I-4 and a short ride into Orlando brought me to a fuel stop. It was now pretty late, and time to add some layers and get ready to face the chill of a late night on the road. A call home revealed that there was rain in the Jacksonville area but that it was moving away, and that my prospects for staying dry were pretty good.

I had a smoke, drank an energy drink, watched some of the more entertaining locals (it looked like I had managed to find an inner city Orlando oasis of late night partiers and drunks, so that’s always entertaining as long as they don’t drive into you).

Two Orlando fire department ambulances and a fire truck came roaring by, sirens blasting, only to turn around and to return meekly. What was that all about?

Back on the bike, and the further east I got the less congested the traffic is. And at that point my fatigue from riding had pretty well been equalized by the sheer magnificence of riding at night, with the open skies and the stars above. Beautiful.

Daytona Beach came and went, and then all of the familiar I-95 exits that I know so well passed by: Flagler Beach, Palm Coast, Crescent Beach, St. Augustine … all tempted me to stop but I knew that I had to keep rolling.

Finally my exit (yes, my very own exit; I walk there every so often just to watch I-95 traffic pass underneath and to contemplate the universe so I figure that I own a small part of it, no matter how insignificant) appears. And I’m home. The first ride of the season under my belt and I am comfortably tired, and home with some great tales and some good photos. I’ll sleep well tonight.

Day 3: Into (and out) of the Everglades

2005-04-12T15:05:00.000-07:00

3/27/2005

Dawn breaks, the bike is still in the parking lot and unmolested (something that I never take for granted and why I always try to park it where it’s visible), and it’s time for me to do something that I seldom do: get rolling early. Boots are still wet (they were to remain wet for another full week – it had rained that incredibly hard on Friday) but there’s not much that I could do about ‘em.

Got my shower, got packed, and headed out the door looking for breakfast. Riding down Clewiston’s main drag I see three other BMW riders. We wave, I ride another block or two, and then see a gentleman outside a restaurant. He’s got another BMW R1150GS, looks the part of being a serious touring rider, so I head on over in his direction.

This gent’s name is Chico and he and I start chatting and we quickly discover that we’ve got quite a bit in common. He’s curious about my skull and crossbones stickers because he’s coming back from the Pirates of the Conch Republic campout over in Marathon in the Florida Keys and wonders if I’m affiliated with that group. “Nope” I reply,except that I did once spend a night sleeping on a picnic table during one of their campouts a few years ago. They are a fun, disorganized group that get together every year after Bike Week and hang out at Knight’s Key Campground in Marathon for a week or two.

Chatting with Chico a bit more it transpires that he has been reading some of my stuff that has been posted on some of the BMW bike sites. On top of that he’s a manager for the BMW Motorcycle Owners of America’s annual get together to be held in Lima, OH this year. Small world.

Chico likes my writing and he’s riding the same model of motorcycle that I’m riding. Obviously Chico is a man of excellent tastes.

Turns out that Chico is in front of Robbie’s Restaurant in Clewiston, and there are perhaps 20 bikes parked in the lot. The manager of Robbie’s would later apologize to me, explaining that on most Sundays there are usually 50 bikes present. Robbie’s is a simple, country-style restaurant with hearty portions of basic foods. And excellent breakfasts. Obviously there are quite a few folks from over on the coast who are riding the 70 or more miles to Robbie’s in order to have a relaxed weekend breakfast.

Chico heads out, I have breakfast, and after breakfast I start shooting the breeze with a bunch of guys on go fast bikes. These guys are all grayer and older than me, and I discuss tagging along, since we are all riding in the same general direction.

That doesn’t last long.

Leaving the fuel stop I head down the road and these guys are rolling pretty quickly. Then I miss a turn. I ride another half a mile of so, find another road on my GPS that will connect with where I am supposed to be going, and boogie at a respectable speed.

And these guys are still gone. As in “I think they lit up the afterburners.”

I get out into the farmland a bit and think that I can see them in the distance. Bear in mind that this part of the Everglades south of Clewiston is about as flat and open as Kansas, and there are long stretches of flat, narrow farm roads with the occasional 90 degree turn as the road meanders between drainage canals.

And these guys have basically ridden out of sight before I even got going. Wow!

To add insult to injury, here I am riding along at maybe 85 mph on a narrow road posted at 45, and I hear a buzz that sounds like a zillion angry bees behind me. And it’s another go fast bike rider passing me like I’m sitting still. Sheesh!

Now I really feel old. I think that if BMW ever offers a diesel-fueled variant of the good ol’ GS models I’m going to get one of those. Just so I can putt-putt-putt along the country roads and not pretend to be able to keep up with anyone.

I stop to take a few photos and keep cruising. The most memorable photo shot was when I ran across several buzzards having brunch at the side of the road and the roadkill of the day turns out to be a 5-6 ft. gator that lost a mating season standoff with a pickup truck. That’s that Law of Tonnage at work; no matter how big, bad and horny Mr. Gator was he still wasn’t going to win in a battle against an F-350. I take some photos but nothing that looks like I can use in my next book ‘cause those blasted buzzards wouldn’t pose the way that I wanted them to pose. Imagine that.

As I mentioned, this is farm country and it looks like Kansas gone psychedelic. Drainage channels crisscross the area. Someone out here is growing shrimp in ponds, but most of this area appears to be sugar cane production and beef cattle. I stop to take some photos of cattle on a ranch and, once again, the critters are wary of a crazy old Pirate wearing a bright red reflective jacket and pointing something at them. Imagine that.

Coming into the Big Cypress Seminole Reservation the speed limit drops and then drops again. I’m not sure what happens when you get a speeding ticket on an Indian reservation and am not anxious to find out, so I crawl along at the posted speed limit, trying to stay awake.

No older gents on sport bikes to be seen, by the way. Those guys were supposed to be heading down here too, and they are long gone. They certainly weren’t letting any cypress grow between their spokes, so to speak.

Big Cypress Reservation doesn’t look as prosperous as the Brighton reservation of yesterday. Not bad, but not that good either. The bingo hall here is closed and the old bingo building is dilapidated. I later learn that this operation was moved to the Hollywood (Florida) reservation, which is much flashier. This may be, but I’m not sure at the moment, the very same and first high stakes bingo hall that ushered in the entire industry of Indian gambling establishments in the USA.

Big Cypress has a motocross race track, the world renowned Ah-Tah-Thi-Ki Museum, an RV park, a private runway (the tribe of 4,500 people owns a corporate jet), the Billy Swamp Safari (maybe it’s a coincidence, but the Chairman of the Seminole Tribe in Florida is a gent by the name of James Billie, and it looks like Indian casinos have been berry, berry good to him from what I’ve read in the media), a rodeo complex, and souvenir shops. No general stores that I saw although it’s very possible that I missed them, but you would see Clewiston addresses pretty regularly on the reservation and Clewiston was miles and miles away from where I was standing, so I presume that it’s not out of the question that the locals on the reservation do most of their shopping in Clewiston. I also didn’t see any gasoline for sale here, and I presume that the closest gasoline station would be 20 or so miles away at the Miccosukee travel plaza off of I-75. Interesting. This community is pretty isolated.

I poke around a bit but it’s Easter Sunday and, duh … one of the very few holidays when the Ah-Tah-Thi-Ki Museum is closed. That’s too bad, and I’ll have to run back over here some other day to see the museum.

I ride down to the rodeo stadium and stop to take some photos. While I am there a youngster, of perhaps late grade school age, comes buzzing by on an ATV. He’s on a dirt track that parallels the small road but I have seen other ATVs buzzing along on the county highway that runs through the reservation. Unlike the Brighton Reservation, which had signs up warning against operating ATVs on the highways, the ATV seems to be an accepted means of transportation on the Big Cypress Reservation

Back on the road and the ride southbound to the Miccosukee Travel Plaza continues to be on pavement of good quality if a bit narrow, and the road meanders through farm country with a posted limit of 45 mph. The scrub brush is getting a little taller and the area is less cleared than north of the reservation. I later hear that there are plans to widen that road beginning … well, basically, any day now...

The Miccosukee Travel Plaza is just what it sounds like – your standard not-very-exceptional fuel stop. Out west or in the Mexican desert it wouldn’t be unusual to have a fuel stop that becomes a landmark in an isolated area, but here, east of the Mississippi River, it is odd to find an area so sparsely populated that a fuel stop becomes a bit of an oasis.

This is the modern Indian reservation money maker: few trinkets,and plenty of 92 octane gasoline. And compared to some parts of the country, and certainly the rest of the world, this location isn’t that isolated. But all of those cars on the side of I-75 that have run out of fuel tell the tale that being perhaps 40-50 miles from the nearest alternative for fuel has caught many people by surprise.

I chat a bit with some travelers and other riders. Most of the motorcyclists out here are from the Greater Miami area and are heading home.

A Miccosukee reservation police ossifer and I strike up a conversation and I take a few photos of his cruiser. On the way out of the travel plaza parking lot I spy the local police substation and figure that I’d drop in and take a few more photos. Imagine my surprise when I walk in and there’s no one home.

Hmmmm … now being alone in a police station – and uninvited at that – makes me a bit nervous. So I go back across the street to talk to the officer that I was just shooting the breeze with. He laughs, and tells me that, yup, they usually leave the station unlocked and that he’s the only one on duty.

I’m thinking that it’s commendable that things are this peaceful around here, but if I recall correctly even Andy and Barney locked the door to the Sheriff’s Office when they left.

OK, so we have that cleared up and it’s back to the police substation for some photos of their other patrol vehicles – swamp buggies. Now that’s something that you don’t see every day.

Back on the road and it’s time to head back home. It’s getting past noon and as much as I’d like to explore further in the Everglades I’ve got obligations on Monday and need to get home. There’s about 350 miles between where I’m at and my home in Jacksonville and I’ve got more places to check out today so it’s time to boogie.

Those gators and killer mosquitoes around Everglades City will just have to wait until another trip.

The old R1150GS motorcycle boogies westbound on I-75 through the edge of the densely forested and very beautiful Big Cypress National Preserve to Rt. 29, and then it heads north. As I pause to take some photos of a sign warning of the Florida panther I realize that not only are there zero services at this exit, but that the really tall fence next to the roadway isn’t designed to keep humans out of the nature preserve but rather to keep the critters from getting to us humans. Sweet.

About this time a couple comes riding by. At first I think that it’s another set of young kids on a go fast bike. As I watch I realize that it’s a couple of at least my age, out here in the middle of nothing, riding a Honda Reflex scooter. And here I am, with my crashbar- and GPS- equipped adventure touring motorcycle, worried about whether or not I’m fixing to become puma bait.

Folks, it’s starting to get a bit weird in the woods out here.

This is a very rural area, with handfuls of people living out here. As you go back north you start to see more and more residences, but things are still pretty sparse. The little town of Immokalee is pretty interesting – the Mexican influence is so strong on the southern side of town that I’ve since told several friends who are curious about traveling in Mexico that we should ride down here and hang out; most of the lettering on the buildings here is in Spanish and I’m sure that Spanish language opportunities would abound.

Doing some research after I return home I discover that there is actually another Indian casino just a few blocks from where I was riding. Clearly, I need to return to Immokalee one of these days and check that place out.

Continuing north on Rt. 29 the strong Mexican influence continues. I stop outside a store to buy some drinks and take some photos and it’s locked up. However, the gentleman next door comes over with the keys and opens up for me. Nice folks, and not a word of English is spoken.

(continued in the next blog entry)

Into the Everglades, Day 2

2005-03-31T18:21:00.000-08:00

3/26/2005

Saturday morning dawns and there’s a knock at the door. My last clear memories of the bar the night before were of talking to the owner and saying that I would try to make it to breakfast by 9AM. So naturally I thought that it was awfully nice of the staff to give me a wakeup knock.

I opened the door and there was a gentleman there with a green uniform, a badge, and a gun on his hip. Hmmmm …

Well, the officer asked me if I had anyone in my room and my first reaction was “I don’t think so.”

Then his partner asked me if I owned the silver motorcycle parked outside my room and I said, “Not if you are serving papers or planning to give the rider a ticket.”

Man … I really need to drink my coffee before I talk to the cops.

Well, we had a long, friendly chat about motorcycles, riding and stuff. They were looking for someone but it clearly wasn’t me. Helluva way to wake up, however.

And to add insult to injury, as I got dressed I discovered that my boots hadn’t dried out from the day before. Those of you that ride know how *)#*!@% annoying it is, not to mention down-right bad for your feet, to wear soaking wet boots all day long.

I got a good omelet breakfast at the Desert Inn, packed my stuff, and headed down Rt. 441 towards Lake Okeechobee and the wilds of the Everglades.

Now remember that this is a working trip to gather some material for my next book, PirateJohn's Most Unique Guide To Motorcycling in Southern Florida. There’s a lot of looking, listening, and generally just checking places out when you are writing a travel book. Like I always say when hitting the bars, it’s a tough gig but someone has to do it

I’m cruising along, it’s morning, and I’ve made several quick stops to look at things that might be of interest to my readers. About halfway between the town of Okeechobee and Yeehaw Junction I come upon an SUV. Laying on its side

It’s obvious that the accident has just occurred. There is a small crowd, a parked tractor-trailer, and the truck driver is putting out his warning triangles. I do a U-turn and ask the driver if everyone is out of the SUV. Yup. Judging by the marks the SUV ran off the road, over corrected, and then went into a spin and rolled. They must have been either passing the truck or else the truck was behind the SUV.

You’ve got to pay attention when you are driving or riding. There is little margin for error on roads with no shoulders.

I take a few photos as a painful reminder of how NOT to travel, and leave as the first of the emergency vehicles arrive. Thankfully no one was injured, but wrecking your SUV is a helluva nasty way to start your morning.

The town of Ft. Drum has basically one place to stop for food. And just down the road is some sort of compound with an impressive gate, and a sign forbidding motorcycles. I take some notes and move on.

Coming into the town of Okeechobee their perpetual road construction is still there. It’s a bright, sunny day today and none of the construction equipment is moving, but rather it’s all parked in neat rows in the construction area. Today isn’t bad traffic-wise, but I have been through here at other times when the traffic was backed up. It amazes me that a tiny town, with a 4-lane road, in the middle of nothing, could have the kind of traffic jam that causes you to sit there in traffic and curse. And, of course, no progress is being made today towards getting the construction completed.

You know the old joke: What’s the official Florida state flower? The orange traffic cone, of course.

Somewhere in all of the excitement of the last two days my rear brake pads went south so when I stop for fuel I call my buddy Buddy, Jacksonville’s #1 ace motorcycle mechanic, and chat with him. Afterwards some locals and I start talking about riding, maintenance, and so forth and one of them suggests that I try to local Honda/Yamaha/Suzuki/KTM motorcycle dealer that I have just passed by. Fair enough. But when I ask the young guy behind the parts counter if, by chance, they have a set of Brembo brake pads for a BMW motorcycle he looks at me like I’ve flown in from another planet. Interesting. This is more of an ATV dealer than a motorcycle dealer I guess, but you’d think that in most universes that KTM parts would be at least as rare as BMW parts. Could luck if you break down in this area on your Ducati or Aprilia.

I hit a couple of bars in the area, some that I was curious about from previous visits and some that folks told me about when I asked around. Good Spirits and Iron Eagle are both fine places, the latter more of a rider-oriented pub but both clearly rider-friendly. There is a couple here that have business cards that depict their BMW cruiser, but today they are driving around in the cage ‘cause she’s got her arm in a sling. We crack a few jokes, they give me some leads on future places to check out, and I promise to look them up the next time that I’m riding around their neighborhood.

Checked out Jaycee Park right where Rt. 441 splits to Rt. 78 to go around Lake Okeechobee. Riding over the Hoover Dike afforded a great view of Lake Okeechobee, and if you hadn’t been paying attention it wouldn’t be difficult to think that you were looking out at the ocean rather than a lake. Seagulls, white beach sand, and sunbathers – this place ain’t bad.

Interesting history here. In 1928 a hurricane caused Lake Okeechobee to break across a levee, and 1,800 souls drowned. Today there is the massive Hoover Dike completely surrounding the lake. There is a hiking trail on top of the dike, and this trail is 120 miles long.

Agriculture reigns here, with tourism running a close 2nd. RV parks line the lake, and airboat tours and bass fishing are big business in the northern Everglades around Lake Okeechobee.

I cruised into Glades County, mindful of Mad Mary, a super-aggressive cop that another cop from another county warned me about. Didn’t see her, and almost missed my turn to go onto the Brighton Seminole Indian Reservation because I was admiring the gators sunning themselves in the waters below as I rode across a bridge.

The Brighton Seminole Indian Reservation looks quite prosperous, frankly. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but except for the occasional sign announcing something Seminole-related and thatched roof buildings every so often this looked like a rather prosperous farming community.

<P class='MsoNormalstyle="MARGIN:' 0pt? 0in>I stopped in at the Brighton Bingo Casino. Now personally, I don’t gamble at casinos (I ride motorcycles all the time, smoke, drink plenty of beer, eat high cholesterol foods galore, and have 3 ex-wives so I figure that’s about as much gambling as I need at this point in my life) but if I did enjoy the slots or bingo I’d consider coming here. The Brighton Bingo Casino is a large, modern steel building, not neon or flashy at all on the outside, with plenty of paved parking. Go inside, and you can either turn right to the high stakes bingo (there was a Chrysler 300 on display so I presume that is one of the prizes) or turn left and play the slots. The slot machine section looked just like a Vegas casino. There is a bar on the premises (don’t take that for granted, because not all Indian casinos have alcohol) and a fancy restaurant. Not bad.

Back on the road, and back towards the southern end of Lake Okeechobee, it looks like my old friend Crappy Weather is returning. The skies are getting cloudy.

I ride through the little town of Moore Haven, looking for a bar that I never find, and wind up riding through town and intersecting with Rt. 27. I’ve been on Rt. 78 going around the lake for most of the afternoon. Rt. 78 was fine two-lane road, except for that last 5 miles or so when it got fairly narrow (not bad on a motorcycle, but I’d hate to meet an oncoming mobile home).Now Rt. 27, the old tourist road through Florida before the Interstates were built, is a four lane divided highway and promises to be better road, even if more crowded.

I continue to cruise into the big city of Clewiston, FL. Normally I wouldn’t get too excited by a 5-stoplight town (6 if you count the new one on the side street) with a population of 5,000 but it looks like the rains are coming. And the sun’s going down anywho. And the thoughts of sleeping on a park bench, in the rain, in the Everglades somewhere, with alligators eyeing me isn’t appealing.

The Best Western motel in Clewiston had several billboards up advertising its presence so I drop in. The clerk hums and haws and gives me a “best” price that takes my breath away. When I recover I ask her where the other motels are at in town, and tell her that if I were going to spend that much money I’d ride to Key West for the night.

Thankfully, a few blocks away are several smaller no name motels. I look at one, go across the street to get the competitor’s rates, look at the room, and am satisfied. A nice sanitary room for about 1/3rd of the rate at the Best Western. Admittedly more than the Desert Inn the night before, but not by much.

Clewiston looks like a pleasantly clean small town although one of the locals tells me that the place has been cleaned up dramatically in the last few years. I chat with the hotel manager a bit and head out to get dinner and to see some of the sites.

<SPANSTYLE="COLOR: black?>Clewiston is an interesting mix of folks here in the Everglades: lots of good ol’ boys, both here to live and farm and others here temporarily to fish (there are several bass boats in the motel parking lot and a couple of guys and I are cracking jokes as they grilled steaks in front of their rooms), plenty of Mexican folks drawn to the area as farm workers, plenty of black folks, a few American Indians wandering through, and the last two motels that I stopped in were run by Asian Indian folks. I feel like I’m at a UN convention.

There’s not a tremendous amount to see in Clewiston. What little industry there is is related to farming, and the big local crop is sugar cane. Clewiston’s town motto is that it’s “America’s Sweetest Town which is just, well … too damned cute. There are restaurants, there are bars (yippee!), and there’s a Caterpillar tractor dealer here that sells Challenger farm tractors and had a really gnarly ol’ D9 bulldozer on a trailer that looked like it had suffered an engine fire. I’ll bet that made someone pucker up a notch or two when it happened.

All roads in Clewiston lead towards Roland and Mary Ann Martin's Marina so I made my way there for dinner at the tiki bar.

Bass fishing has been very, very good to the Martins. The Roland and Mary Ann Martin's Marina and Resort covers several city blocks and includes a marina, boat sales, fishing guide services, condos, an RV campground, a nice restaurant, that tiki bar on the lake, and a motel.

The tiki bar is a fine place to kick back, watch the televisions, and to enjoy dinner and a few drinks. I was frankly a bit disappointed that the menu selection was limited to mostly burgers (someone had taken a marker and crossed about 5 items off the menu and, predictably, those were the 5 that sounded the best to me) but their burgers and appetizers are, indeed, quite fine. The prices are reasonable. You can smoke at the tiki bar, or you can go indoors to the non-smoking restaurant where they also serve a hearty breakfast in the morning.

By the way, here's a little secret that you won't see on the billboards anywhere. You aren't likely to run across Roland (winner of multiple fishing tournaments and host of popular television fishing shows) any time soon. Mary Ann divorced him several years ago and he reportedly moved out of town and over to the coast. Someone made a joke that poor Roland had to sell a lot of lures to earn anywhere near what he used to earn when he had this place, so I guess that I’ll just let that sleeping dog lie ...

Day 3 to follow ...

Into the Everglades, Part 1

2005-03-29T03:56:00.000-08:00

This was my anxiously awaited 3-day weekend where I was looking forward to exploring the Everglades. You know about the Everglades, don’t you? Where the population of ‘gators handily outnumbers the population of people?

Back at home, you have to laugh when the weather forecast calls for partly cloudy, and it is raining so hard against your bedroom window that the noise wakes you up early. And on top of that you can see lightning and hear thunder roar. Sheesh. Someone got that prediction wrong.

Not only that, but looking at today’s Yahoo weather forecast for Good Friday in Everglades City they were reporting the weather for today, tomorrow, Saturday and Sunday. True story.

If you don’t see the joke in the paragraph above then just ask yourself if Everglades City is literally behind the times. By at least a day, if nothing else. You have to wonder.

To add insult to injury, try as hard as I can ol’ John simply can never get on the road as early as he wants to. Today's Good Friday departure is no exception. A few last minute errands run and I’ve ridden 60 miles without ever leaving Jacksonville and I’m right back at my house, looking for my missing sunglasses, only to find them stuffed inside something else that was already packed on my bike. Arghh!

OK, so it’s going to be a lousy start to the trip. I figured that I’d at least treat myself to adecent lunch, so I headed towards the local upscale sushi restaurant. Just remember the motto: “When the going gets tough, the tough eat raw fish.”

When I do finally get on the road it is raining. And raining harder by the minute. Traffic crawls along I-95 down to Daytona. I am seldom out of 4th gear (of 6 gears) and am often stopped, sitting in traffic and in the rain. Rolling into Daytona and getting ready to take the I-4 turnoff to go towards Orlando there is enough standing water on the Interstate to unnerve drivers of small, easy-to-hydroplane cars. Traffic is cautiously crawling along, and smart drivers in cars are seeking shelter. And here I am, riding a motorcycle ...

Going into Sanford the winds pick up to near gale force intensity, lightning is striking nearby, visibility sucks, and I’ve pretty well decided that I need to stop for fuel anyway. I don’t mind being wet, but becoming either a lightning rod or winding under the wheels of some person who loses it in a driving rainstorm isn’t my idea of a productive day.

Standing around soaking wet at a convenience store, watching Orlando traffic crawl by, and hearing folks comment on how glad they are that they aren’t riding a motorcycle on a nasty day like today reminds me of two slogans that every aspiring writer should keep in mind:

#1: “Don’t give up the day job.”

And #2, the motto that I have printed on my business checks. “Pontius sero quam numquam.” Latin for “Better late than never.”

(That’s true by the way. I really do have that on my business checks. Be scared – you aren’t dealing with a normal mind here.)

But being on the road has its benefits. Clearly, things are never dull. Coming through the rain in Daytona I saw a large 45 ft. bus with a “Girls Gone Wild” mural covering the entire bus. I figure that had to be the film production crew. Man, what a gig that would be, but I could never work with a crew that was filming topless gals all the time because I’m sure that my cardiologist would object …

Interestingly, in shooting the breeze with the locals in Sanford, they were not expecting rain either, never mind a monsoon. They were also expecting a warm and sunny day. This was not a good day for modern weather prediction.

My first night's stop on this trip was scheduled to be the Desert Inn at the tiny little crossroads of Yeehaw Junction, FL, which at this point was perhaps 80-100 miles to the south. I called them at the Desert Inn and they reported that the weather was in the 80’s and sunny. Go figure.

So I got back on the bike and fought the traffic and nasty weather into Orlando.

Coming out of one of the tollbooths on the Florida’s Turnpike I could feel the temperature dramatically surge upwards. Instead of being cold and rainy the weather was now overcast but dry and much warmer. Thunderstorm clouds were trying to form south of me and it was clearly time to hold the throttle open and to try to outrun the rain.

Normally the Desert Inn at Yeehaw Junction doesn’t reserve rooms but I guess that the owner could tell that she was either dealing with a nut or a desperate man, because she agreed to hold the room as long as I called back by 6PM to at least give them my status. I did, and somewhere around 6:30 Yours Truly came riding into the Desert Inn just ahead of a storm front. I was wearing rain gear, a fleece jacket, and wearing an electrically heated vest. Everyone else in the place was wearing t-shirts and shorts. You could tell that it had been yet another weird day in the life of a Pirate.

There was quite a crowd of locals, and they were telling me that there had been three ladies on bikes that had left 30 minutes earlier. One of the old phartes that was there was bragging about how he tried to hit on one of the ladies. When he went to the restroom one of the other patrons told me that what the first guy didn’t know was that the ladies proudly told everyone else, when he wasn’t listening, that they were of a different sexual persuasion and that they were stringing this guy on.

Hmmmmm.

Poor old drunken dude. I doubt if he would have known what to do if the ladies had been more, uh, "cooperative." Hopefully this isn't a sign of things to look forward to as us old motorcyclists slip less and less gracefully into old age. 'specially since this guy was beginning to look more and more like the poster boy for Clueless Old Men.

The Desert Inn at Yeehaw Junction, FL:

If you want fancy dining thisain't the place. If you will die if you don't get prompt service then you might want to mosey on to somewhere else. If you want fancy lodging then you might want to drive the 25 miles over to I-95.

But if you want to experience just a taste of what the Everglades were like when cattle roamed free, the 'gators were dining on burgers instead of pets, and Indians and black folks worked the open range as cowboys, then drop by the Desert Inn.

This is the kind of place where the roosters still roam outside the buildings. Where the locals all know to slow down ‘lest they run over a chick crossing the road. And where the chicken on the menu may be unusually fresh. It’s a throwback to another age.

You have an interesting mix of folks dropping by the Desert Inn these days. This is a popular place for riders and many poker runs come through here. The Desert Inn is at a crossroads (Rt. 441 and Rt. 60, and within sight of Exit 193 of the Florida's Turnpike) and plenty of truckers and tourists also drop by. Quite a few of those tourists walk in, look around, decide that this isn't Disney and they keep heading on down the road. Which is too bad, because in addition to being a bar with quite a bit of history, the Desert Inn also has a restaurant with good sandwiches and hearty breakfasts.

The history: Yeehaw Junction was established as a water depot for steam trains in the late 1800's. By 1920 a trading post was in place to take care of cowboys that were moving cattle between the Seminole reservations further south and settled areas like Orlando.

Dad Wilson bought the property where the Desert Inn stands in the 1930's and began to fix it up some. Legend has it that Dad was a hobo who got kicked off the railroad here. He 'borrowed' lumber from a nearby sawmill and the rest is history.

The Desert Inn then went through several owners. In 1946 there was still no electricity or running water, but a well was dug and a generator installed that produced electricity which was shared with other locals. During this period rooms were built upstairs and were rented. Sometimes by the hour, and with the option of female company, if'n you get my drift. More mainstream business ventures included dining rooms (with separate rooms for white folks with Indians and black folks eating in another room) and pumping gasoline.

Another thriving business venture that was started up was jackass farming. The story goes that when the Turnpike was built in the 50's and Greyhound bus service needed a name for a stop, the name Yeehaw Junction stuck. No doubt that sounded better than the other suggestions: Jackass Crossing and Working Girl Trail.

In 1994 the Desert Inn was placed on the National Register of Historic Places. The Desert Inn claims to be the only (former) brothel on the Register.

The bar and restaurant: There is a decent selection of cold beer, and some good sandwiches. I ordered a steak and thought that it was OK even if Waffle House does a similar one for less money. They sandwiches are much better and I overheard some tourists talking about how the gatorburger tasted well ... almost like chicken. But good chicken at that!

The orginal inn was upstairs of the bar, where the brothel museum (temporarily closed because of the 2004 hurricanes and open to visitors only by special invitation) is at now. Today's lodging is a ramshackle series of 11 rooms out back behind the bar.

This is your basic working class low-budget (usually $35/night) motel that caters to a lot of blue collar folks passing through, some locals that are frankly down on their luck, and the occasional sportsman or drinker stopping by the bar. Once again, we aren't talking anything fancy here. My room was clean even if the bed linens showed some signs of previous hard usage, there was tape on the door to keep the water and wind of heavy storms out, and one blind over the window consisted of an old green blanket that had been taped to the wall. However, there was television (this is rural Florida and the religious stations come in REAL good), air conditioning that worked, and a lock on the door that was secure. The Desert Inn doesn't take reservations and there are no other motels for miles around, so factor that into your equation --the rooms lookpretty darned good late at night after you've had a few drinks, especially since your only other alternative might be to curl up underneath a trailer at the truckstops a quarter of a mile away. All-in-all I’d say that the rooms here aren’t the place to bring a new date if you want to impress her with your good taste, but as an alternative to riding 30 miles to fnd another motel or camping out they are fine.

For a little more info on the Desert Inn check out their website at http://www.desertinnrestaurant.com/index.html

More to come later …

Random thoughts

2005-03-22T08:56:00.000-08:00

Man, does time fly. Someone on one of the Buffett mailing lists asked what a blog was and I mentioned mine. Then I noticed that it had been over 10 days since I last updated mine. Ouch!

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The photo that I'm showing at the top of the blog is a gentleman that I met at the Iron Butt Association dinner in Daytona during Bike Week. He's riding around the world, which is impressive enough to begin with. Even better, it's not his first trip around the world, and he's not riding an on/off road bike like a lot of us would us, he's riding a Yamaha R1 go fast bike. He's from the Netherlands, and if you look at his website you will notice that he was visiting Indianapolis in late February, at which time I can assure you it was cold. Wow. Check out his web site at http://www.sjaaklucassen.nl/

===

John DeLorean passed away a few days ago. Everyone remembers him from the downfall of the DeLorean automobile and John’s subsequent arrest for trying to raise money with a suitcase of cocaine. Which is too bad. The attempted cocaine bust was thrown out by the courts, and the DeLorean auto was actually pretty good even if both DeLorean and the Northern Irish government (which financed the venture) all got the numbers wrong. It takes courage to start up an auto manufacturing enterprise these days. And DeLorean was, indeed, one of the fathers of Pontiac’s original GTO which increased Pontiac sales dramatically at a time when General Motors decreed that sports cars were bad and that only bland autos should be produced. DeLorean was a maverick in the gray corporate world, and this universe needs more men like him. Let’s just hope that the next ones to come along don’t lose money quite as badly as John Z. did.

===

Poor Terry Schiavo, her parents, and her husband. No matter where you stand politically on this mess, what happened to her was a tragedy, which has now been compounded even more so by the controversy. And I have to assume that her husband and her parents are all sincere in their beliefs. Now the rest of the nation has gotten involved, spinning what was a personal tragedy to suit everyone else’s political purposes. After the protestors are long gone their mean-spirited comments will have been forgotten but this drama will linger with Terry’s loved ones for the rest of their lives. This was one episode where the busy bodies really should have left well enough alone.

===

My first book is selling well, especially considering that it hasn’t been printed yet (grrrrrrr …) Hopefully the first printed copies will be available in about 10 days. I have sent out preliminary Adobe .PDF files of the book to several motorcycle groups and the reception from the folks that downloaded it has been very, very positive. The printer sent me a pre-production copy that was missing about 15 pages, the index, and page numbers but you know what? It looks great! The cover designer did a really good job. So I’m quite optimistic. On the other hand I’m putting together the notes for 3 other books right now and will be traveling this weekend in order to gain material for the Southern Florida book. At some point riding a motorcycle, hanging out at bars, and shooting the breeze genuinely starts to look like work! So let’s hope for the best.

And if you want your very own copy of PirateJohn's Most Unique Guide To Motorcycling in Northeastern Florida you can find it at www.BuccaneerPress.com

Most Unique is intended to be a series of travel guides. I can’t die anytime soon because I need to put together about 10 of these things over the next several years

===

Spring has just arrived, and that means that the riding season in Florida should be getting into full swing at any time, with the rest of the country only a few weeks behind. It’s time for us all to get out, get some exercise, and commune with nature. Sniff those flowers, or, if you are from Florida, get out and pet those alligators. As I told a friend recently, as long as Florida has ‘gators and tourists (and the occasional UFO sighting) things will never be dull down here.

===

As I mentioned in a previous blog, BMW has some really interesting bikes coming out. I’ll get ‘round to detailing some of them in another blog in due time. In the meantime the bike announcements are coming out faster than they can be digested. Which is interesting, but to be honest, for the time being I’m pretty happy with my previous-generation bikes with new-fangled electronics. I’ve just ordered a satellite tracking system so that my heirs and creditors can find me when I’m riding in Appalachia, the Everglades, or the Sierra Madres. Or down to that nasty local pub where the bartendresses are barely dressed, for that matter. Now where is that on/off switch ;)

Seriously, with motorcycles with GPS navigation and satellite radio, it’s becoming easy to roll off 500-mile days and still have the time to sightsee and hang out with your pals at the local pub. I especially enjoy riding some distance to catch musicians perform in out of the way places, and if I can do those kinds of trips everyone should be able to do ‘em. You just have to practice and plan a bit.

===

If you get a chance to see The Aviator starring Leonardo DiCaprio my advice is to go. The Aviator is quite a film experience. Just like John DeLorean deserves to be remembered for much more than his failures, The Aviator is the story of Howard Hughes the legendary businessman, aircraft pioneer, movie producer and just all around visionary as he begins his descent into madness and before madness totally consumes him. Some critics contend that the movie is a tragedy; I contend that The Aviator is a celebration of a man who overcame tremendous odds for as long as he could and a warning for all of us. Not only should we maintain a vigil over our own mental well being, but it pays to remember that Hughes would eventually become a major player in the Nixon government as well as the Cold War, and at that time Hughes was paranoid and as loony as they come. Sometimes the Emperor wears no clothing, and for Hughes in his last decade that was more than merely a metaphor.

===

Best quote that I’ve seen recently:

“Whoever said that money cannot buy happiness doesn’t know where to shop.”

Of course, that legend is on the site for a BMW motorcycle dealer (http://www.bmw-ok.com/) so there’s clearly some element of temptation for ol’ John ;)

Tools for travel - BMW's replacement for the F-650 motorcycle

2005-03-10T11:19:00.000-08:00

Tools. Guys gotta have their tools, right?

OK, we're talkin' travel tools here, folks. What were you gals smirking at?

Those of you who follow ol' John's motorcycling exploits know that John is a big believer in traveling whenever possible, and the undoubted #1 preferred method of travel is by motorcycle.

But you can't just hop on any old motorcycle and expect to ride 500 miles in a day and have enough energy left to tell tales at rider friendly bars that night. It takes a special bike, and even then that special bike has to be "just right."

And that's not to diss folks that ride but who don't see things the same way that ol' John sees things. Riders need to stick together. We are all out here trying to have some fun. If someone's idea of a good time is to ride to the beach, then that's fine with me. But for what I do, the requirements are simply different. Not better or not worse. Just different.

John is partial to, but not wed to, BMW motorcycles. At the moment I've got five of the buggers sitting around the homestead in one stage of repair or the other. BMW has been good to me but I confess to having a roving eye, and I get tempted by other manufacturers' bikes every so often. Still, the siren song of BMW motorcycles always reminds me that I need to go home and keep things in the family, as it were.

Right now BMW is completely revamping their entire lineup. A lot of us old timers who remember when the K-bikes and airheads were produced for 20 years with only minor changes and we are currently asking ourselves "what the fawk?"

First of all, a quick bit of history on modern BMW bikes. There are three distinct lines being made during the last few years: The F-series, which are pretty much marketed as the entry level bikes (and that is unfortunate because, in many ways, the F-series are more functional than the larger and heavier bikes), and the R-series which are the traditional boxer, or horizontally opposed engined models (and the R-series includes John's beloved R1100GS and R1150GS on/off-road bikes). Finally we have the K-series, which are water cooled inline motors and while more than competent these bikes have never gelled with many traditionalists.

Today, if you notice the photo at the top of this blog, we've got an intertaining spy photo of what sure looks like new F-series bikes on test somewhere in Europe. These suckers have old-style F-650 fenders on them, bags for luggage from the new and not even released yet K-series, and a completely different motor from the old F-650 that sure looks like an inline twin cylinder powerplant (the F-650's have had a complex, fuel injected, multi-valve engine that was, nevertheless, a single-cyclinder motor just like your lawn mower). Also of interest is that one bike clearly has a belt drive rather than a chain or a driveshaft. It's worth noting as well that one bike has two front disk brakes while the other one only has one disk - perhaps there are two models on test here?

F-650's have been fine bikes. Yours Truly owned one briefly when, in those glorious days WIHM (When I Had Money), I bought one for a spousal unit (actually girlfriend at the time). She promptly dropped it, breaking her leg, but thankfully without damaging the bike a bit (yes, one has to have the proper priorities). It was a great, nimble bike with adequate power for highway touring but Yours Truly simply prefers the larger R-series "GS" bikes. After all, an R1100GS or R1150GS has more power and can carry more weight. Some people believe in traveling light; ol' John just prefers to get a larger bike and carry more stuff when he travels.

But seriously, the F-series has proven to be an excellent touring bike with good highway manners yet better off-road abilities than the big GS's, mostly by virtue of being lighter and more maneuverable. A twin-cylinder F-series, presumably with a bit more power and displacement (the speculation is that this twin engine is half of the four-cylinder engine that will be in the new K-series bikes) would seem to clearly be a step in the right direction towards creating an even better tool for motorcycle touring.

Watch the blog if you are interested in the new BMW bikes. Photos of the new R-series and the new K-series will be posted here in a few days.

It pays to have a backup plan.

2005-03-08T11:58:00.000-08:00

Whether folks are trailering ‘em down, putting ‘em the backs of pick-‘em-up up trucks, or <gasp!> actually riding them down, Bike Week is in full swing at Daytona Beach.

Bike “Week” is a bit of a misnomer. The event is actually 10 days long and this year’s Daytona Beach Bike Week officially started on Friday the 4th of March.

Ms. Deborah, my long-suffering personal assistant, and I were planning to ride down to Daytona Beach on Saturday. Saturday dawned, the weather was beautiful, and she couldn’t make the trip because a client of hers was flying in from out of town. Unexpectedly. With little notice. Sigh.

So ol’ John spent a glorious Saturday tinkering with his motorcycles, rather than riding one of them. The legendary Robomantis, my venerable R1100GS BMW is getting its mid-life makeover, and that project is falling behind schedule. By months. So the day wasn’t totally lost, and I love working on the bikes, but still …

It pays to have a backup plan.

Monday rolled around. The skies are bright and beautiful, and the weather is the warmest that it has been since last Fall. And it’s time for us to ride to the annual picnic with our vintage motorcycle club in the infield of the amazing Daytona International Speedway.

There’s only one problem. Ms. Deborah still can’t go because that pesky client of hers is still in town.

So ol’ John tinkers a little bit more with the Robomantis. Just remember folks, when playing around with mechanical devices that shake and rattle that Loctite (an adhesive that causes bolts to bind together firmly, but we hope not permanently) is your friend.

Finally, there is no getting around the obvious. Deborah’s not going to be able to make the trip and if I want any food I’d better boogie. So it’s on the spare GS and off down I-95.

There are a ton of folks riding southbound, and even more trailers and trucks hauling bikes. There is a little bit of something for everyone here. Kids on go fast bikes, old phartes like Yours Truly on touring bikes, and zillions of unique individuals with more or less identical cruisers. There is some really flashy stuff and some really old and nasty stuff that is still running strong despite the age and appearance. And you see an amazing number of grizzled riders who look like they have been living on the road for years and Daytona Beach is just another stop along the way. Bike Week draws ‘em all.

You know what my #1 pet peeve is while riding? Trucks and cars that block traffic by being completely oblivious to the other vehicles backing up behind them. Thankfully I-95 is now a 3-lane Interstate from Jacksonville until well past St. Augustine, but at some point it reverts back to being a 2-land highway. And that’s where the underpowered diesel trucks get into that all too common slow-speed drag race with housewives in minivans. You know the type. The ones who are distracted by the 5 screaming children they are hauling around and their only salvation is to chat on the cell phone. Let me give both parties a hint: Someone needs to slow down in order to let the other one pass. A lot of trucks only go so fast. And then everyone, truck and minivan alike, needs to get into the right lane and not impede the rest of traffic. It really isn’t that tiring to take your car out of cruise control for just a few seconds.

Anywho, ol’ John buzzed on down to Speedway Blvd. in Daytona Beach where he ran across a few friends who were also heading for the picnic. Keep this in mind just to demonstrate that your author wasn’t the only one who misjudged this gig.

The Speedway is beyond being just an impressive facility. It’s huge. Old man France had quite a vision and his vision put Daytona Beach on the map. And during Bike Week scores of vendors and motorcycle manufacturers set up displays and tents outside the entrance to the Speedway. In addition, this year is the first time that the Buffalo Chip Campground (a fixture at the Sturgis Bike Events) was set up in the infield at the Speedway and the Buffalo Chip (a/k/a Kickstand City) has been promising some great music (Travis Tritt, Steppenwolf, Twisted Sister, and Dave Mason are all scheduled to play this year). Let’s hope that the Buffalo Chip does well and returns, but no matter how you slice things this is one busy place during Bike Week.

During the winter the Speedway made millions of dollars worth of improvements, and one improvement that they made was to build a new tunnel underneath the track. The old tunnel dropped dramatically as you went underneath the racetrack and then forcedyou to ride or drive back uphill in a equally dramatic fashion as you exited the tunnel. RV’s and trucks could not use the old tunnel and used to be required to wait until the track closed when they were then allowed to drive across the track. Not this year. Some day you youngsters will forget the hardships that us olde phartes used to have just to be spectators at the International Speedway ;)

Being contrary, I took the old tunnel rather than the modern news tunnel and quickly found my group in the infield. That was the good news. The bad news was that I was starved to death, and the food was all gone.

Now, last year we had plenty of great burgers and hotdogs left over. And we requested that everyone RSVP this year so that we could get a head count. I know, because I was the contact person for the head count! So what happened? Well … it seems that a lot of folks showed up without giving any notice, and they ate all of the food. Sacré bleu!

It pays to have a backup plan.

OK. So there were a few handfuls of leftover peanuts, and I figured that I could last for an hour or so before I absolutely have to find chow. No problemo.

Needless to say, I ran into a lot of old friends. There were a lot of jokes and a lot of wisecracks, and smiles all around. And this year the vintage races were pretty entertaining. Last year most of the excitement seemed to occur when race bikes broke down. This year there were a few spills (no injuries, thankfully), and one unlucky rider managed to have his bike catch on fire pretty much in front of us. Maybe it wasn’t as entertaining for the rider as it was for us spectators - after all, how often do you get to witness a Ducati flambé? – but admittedly that’s not a sight that you see every day.

Your author was walking around taking some great crowd shots when his fancy Sony 8- megapixel camera died. Died dead. As in “the battery was flat.” Which was a bummer because I had had that sucker sitting on the charger at home before I left. Oh well … time to whip out my old but faithful Olympus. I’ve done this for too long not to pack an extra camera <crossing my fingers>.

It pays to have a backup plan.

Your Humble Servant left the Speedway and thought that I’d see if my pal Bill was at the Tir na nog. Tir na nog is Gaelic for “Land of the Young” or, literally, the afterlife. And while this place is merely an Irish pub in Daytona Beach it was once the home of the raunchiest wet t-shirt contest that I’ve ever seen, and that is pretty close to Heaven in my book. Alas, that was years ago and well before Bill bought the place ;)

(For the tale of that particular illustrious event check out http://members.aol.com/Warp12Sys/Jsolton.html )

Bill doesn’t usually open the Tir na nog until 5PM or so but he’s often working about the place and always lets me in. There’s no food at the bar, thanks to Florida’s no smoking in a dining establishment laws, but the pizza place next door delivers and they do some killer strombolis. So this has potential.

The good news was that Bill was there and happy to see me.

The bad news is that Bill had a doctor’s appointment and couldn’t leave the place open. Drat.

Time to get back on the road, and to find some lunch. And it dawned on me that it was almost 3PM and that means happy hour at the Matanzas Innlet.

Once again, it pays to have that backup plan.

So I went riding through the V-twin crazed congestion of Daytona Beach and northbound on A1A. Admittedly there were plenty of places that I could have stopped at to have food, but the list narrows tremendously when you want to find a nice place that is just off the beaten path enough to have a relaxed meal, shoot the breeze with strangers, and just in general have a good time.

And that ride along A1A is enjoyable in and of itself. A1A runs along the coast as it winds northward through Flagler Beach, Palm Coast, Hammock (which is one of the very few “old Florida” areas left along the coast), by the old and hopefully soon-to-be-renovated Marineland park and finally to the Matanzas Innlet at the base of the Matanzas Inlet bridge.

The Innlet restaurant (http://www.oldcity.com/sites/innlet/ ) is always a comfortable place for me. Good food and a great view (the cover of my book on Northeastern Florida was shot there) make this one of my favorite stops. The mussels in garlic are to die for. I also got a plate of fried oysters. I know, I can hear you oyster connoisseurs bitchin’ now about how a fried oyster should be illegal unless it is an ingredient in a po’ boy sandwich, but I was hungry and didn’t have the energy to order a bucket of steamed oysters and sit there and shuck those suckers. At this point I needed food, and I needed it now!

The only riders in the Innlet were locals; a Harley rider and a Gold Wing rider. Even some of the non-riding ladies in the place were kidding the Gold Winger about “how big that thing is” (normally something that every guy likes to hear but in this case a reference to the size of the bike) and I was stringing him on by pointing out that Gold Wings are so big that Honda has to install a reverse gear. Of course, at the same time that I’m giving him some good-natured grief I’m mumbling in my beer about how Ms. Deborah and I also have a monster bike, the BMW competitor to a Gold Wing, that also has a reverse gear. Ahhhhh, yes … it’s sad, but when you get older and have to carry a passenger around those Winnebago-sized motorcycles with all the electronics start to look better.

The Harley guy leaves and in walk 4 guys from Vermont who <cough, cough> trailered their BMW’s down. OK … it was snowing in Vermont when they left and one of the guys has ridden in Alaska several times, so I guess that I can let him slide. Even if he has chrome crash bars and chrome protective bars over his driving lights. Bleech. There’s no accounting for taste even though he assures me that the chrome crash bars were actually supplied by the factory in a final run as the R100GS Paris-Dakar bikes went outof production. Could have happened, I guess, and if I had ordered chrome crash bars for my bike when God intended for them to be black I doubt if I’d admit it either.

‘sides … these guys are buying my beer so I figure that they cannot be all bad ;)

We have a typical guy’s BS session, shooting the breeze about riding in Alaska vs. Mexico, Vermont vs. Florida, the perils of moose vs. ‘gator, that sort of thing. We agree that St. Augustine and the Matanzas Inlet area have tremendous history and are fascinating to visit. And wimmen. Lord, does everyone in this group have an opinion on wimmen, or what?

We conclude our business, swap business cards and promise to look out for each other on down the road, and they ride south while I ride north. For a few miles.

I run down to a place on the beach in the heart of the one-stoplight town of Crescent Beach and look up my pal Jimmy. Jimmy used to be the lead bartender at the Matanzas Innlet and is now the evening manager at an upscale place called the South Beach Grill. No, this isn’t South Beach as in Miami, this is South Beach as in ‘south of St. Augustine.’

http://www.southbeachgrill.net/index.html

Ordered an excellent steak with béarnaise sauce. Yum. No doubt my cholesterol-counting MD would have a heart attack if she could read this, but the steak was great. The view was great. The beer was great. And seeing Jimmy again was great.

So all in all a nice, warm and sunny day of Bike Week went completely different from the way it had been planned, which was originally to take Ms. Deborah down to some of the restaurants to the south of Daytona Beach. But y’know what? Monday was still a great day, and despite seemingly nothin’ going according to plan it’s hard to argue with success when you get in some great riding, hang with old friends and meet new friends, and just marvel at times that the World can be as much fun as it is.

Adventures seldom come to you when you are at home, watching the television, or sitting at the computer. The weather’s getting warmer, and it’s time to get outside!

My first book goes to press

2005-02-24T07:38:00.000-08:00

I can't die any time soon. I've got 5 more books over the next 2 years in the planning stages, and I really need to have a minimum of 10 titles to be taken seriously as a small publisher. So stay tuned.

PirateJohn's™ Most Unique™ Guide To Motorcycling in Northeastern Florida, 2005 edition, went to the printer a few days ago and we seem to have worked out the last technical details on the cover as of yesterday. So now I can relax. Sort of. I've been joking about going on a 2-week drunk in celebration but what I'm actually going to do, weather permitting, is to go riding down in the Everglades this weekend and start gathering material for another book. So if you are around Yeehaw Junction, FL this weekend and see a red-eyed old motorcyclist, that may well be me.

Which could be interesting, because it's supposed to rain cats and dogs all weekend. And in the Everglades there is a serious lack of shelter. I don't mind getting wet, but playing lightning rod is another matter. And down there, one missed corner and about 30 seconds of bubbling water later you become a weekly episode on CSI Miami. They really do have 'gators on the hoof down there, and the little bit of fencing that you see isn't to keep the 'gators inside a compound, it's to separate the 'gators from the tourists, who the 'gators view as a food source.

And the Indians ... let's just say that not everyone living down there welcomes the round eyes. I've seen the signs. And I really don't blame them. At one time the Seminoles controlled all of Florida and Georgia, and now they are isolated in the Everglades.

Anyhow, folks have told me for years that I should write. My 2nd ex- talked constantly about being a writer but in the eight years that we were together I never saw her put one word on paper for commercial purposes. It ain't that easy. Even in this exciting day and age of POD (print on demand) technology you still have to have a commercial model for getting your books developed, produced, and marketed. I've known more starving authors than I have known authors who did this on a full-time basis. And I've known a few who have lost their asses financially, to be blunt about it.

So here I am, not only writing my first highly opinionated book, but also setting myself up as a fledgling publishing company and planning to market my series of books myself. Whew! Wish me luck. As the expression goes, I'm going to need it.

Whether there will be printed copies of the Northeastern Florida available in time for Bike Week is a matter of speculation right now. I would like to have them -- Daytona Bike Week is the primo event in this part of the USA -- but if we miss that goal by a week or two it's not the end of the world. At least I have a helluva head start on the 2006 edition ;)

I you are interested in purchasing a copy of my book please watch my website at www.BuccaneerPress.com. They aren't on sale yet because I didn't want to promise delivery in time for Bike Week and then not be able to deliver. If it should become obvious that the book will not be available in time for Bike Week I will likely offer a *FREE* downloadable .PDF version for a week or two, just so that we get the word out there.

Everyone that has seen the book seems to get a laugh out of it. It's a tour guide, in PirateJohn's somewhat unique style. I discuss the good, the bad, the mainstream, and the weird. Old brothels, where serial killers hang out, where notorious outlaws and rock stars met their demise, etc. And some other really neat places, some obscure and some so well known that everyone needs to make a pilgrimage to see 'em. There is a lot of history down here in Northern Florida, but there is also a lot of history in other parts of this country.

And then there's the subject of riding in Mexico. Damn ... I cannot wait to start to put my stories together on that book ;)

This weekend being a possible exception, we have started to have some really nice weather here in Jacksonville. Whereas the rest of the country seems to have snow everywhere, we have had balmy temps and bright, sunny skies. The next few weeks and Bike Week look promising, although traditionally Bike Week always gets some chilly weather and some rain (last year it rained constantly for 10 days, and that too is unusual).

Y'all have fun, and get out of the house this weekend if you can!

The Beginning

2005-02-15T09:50:00.000-08:00

Greetings!

Frankly, I am curious about this blog-thang and thought that I would explore and experiment a bit. Yours Truly has managed a joke list for years (there should be a link to the HumourList on the left there somewhere) and has been a bit of a presence on the 'net for what seems like forever. I've been around long enough to see the technologies and environment change and we appear to be at another crossroads today as blogs take over and newsgroups are dying off rapidly as a form of sharing meaningful discussion.

Welcome! Hopefully we can share some tales of motorcycling, travel, and just all around positive living here during the next several months.

Once again, discussing links on this site, there is a link to my current website at PirateJohn.com where you can see several of my travel tales and other rants from over the years.

At BuccaneerPress.com you can watch as I struggle to get a publishing company off of the ground. That effort is also going to be a multiple beer discussion. My last several months have been dedicated to getting my first book into print. At this point it is looking very, very good (I was at a bike club meeting last night, was showing some of the guys a photo of them that I was going to use, and everyone wanted a copy -- so that sounds like a positive sign) but I am right on the border of having sample copies available for Bike Week. Exposure at Daytona Bike Week isn't critical to the sales effort, but it sure would have been nice to have that put together a month ago so that I could be out there promoting the book. Oh well ... ;)

Y'all take it easy. I'll be back to post later.