Friday morning, the 10th of February came and I had my kickstand up and wheels rolling by 8:20 in the morning and hit the 210 West moments later. As the Verdugo Hills Golf Course slid by on my right I felt the tug of leaving home and being on the road alone but once I was heading down the grade to the Hansen Dam basin I was into it. With no traffic to speak of west bound and the heavy work traffic east bound I was tempted to shout out “SUCKERS!”. Who but me would hear it and then I’d have to live with the echoes of it in my helmet. Next up was the wonderful 210/ 5/14 interchange where I could choose LA, Bakersfield, or Palmdale; not a very romantic sounding trio of destinations. I took the 14 northbound and quickly left the heavy development behind through the Newhall Pass. My Victory Cross Country paid little attention to the upgrade and I was passing folks who delayed putting their foot down to maintain speed and I reminded myself to remain vigilant even when I found a nice bubble in the traffic. Shortly after the interchange and as the truck lane merges again with the freeway is when the less astute drivers remember to depress their gas pedal to maintain uphill speed and jump on it to make up for slowing to 60; they seem to find their aggression about then and you have to be wary of them running up your backside.
On my way up to the Pearblossom Highway (138) I noted some of my landmarks; Sand Canyon Road just because it sounds interesting, the Red Rover Mine Road that would lead me to Hauser Mountain up above where I had built my first, and only, microwave radio site from the ground up, then Acton, known as Yuckton by less enthusiastic residents I’ve known where there is an interesting business with western wagons and life sized or larger plastic animals for sale that I’ve always meant to go to and bring Cindy back a six foot rooster. Perhaps it would be better to drop in on a ride some time so I’d be less likely to let my humor stray and lay an egg of a joke. I passed by the off ramp to the Angeles National Forest Highway that would have beautiful, chilly, and only ended me back at home until I found the exit to the 138. This route took me along the western side of Palmdale with the speed limit of 60, residences along the east side, and stop lights every half mile. I’m never comfortable about this speed limit here; it just seems unnatural going so fast in a neighborhood.
Once I got out of the town and heading along the 2 lane highway toward Littlerock the Angeles Forest was on my right and should’ve been shrouded in snow this time of year only now there were just patches on this north facing slope, still pretty but it left me with worries about a possible new drought. Going the route I’d chosen allowed me to avoid the 210 East to the 15 and only cost me about 10 miles of travel. It was worth it since this route is free of the urban surroundings and let me feel like I was away much earlier than the shorter, faster route. I kept an eye out for other riders making their way along to Laughlin but found none. I kept some hopes of finding some at Barstow, just up Highway 15 from Victorville where I made the change from the 138 to 15. It was good to be on the 15 for only 40 minutes or so with the Vegas crazies hitting 85-90 MPH; not that I couldn’t run with them on this bike but it’s just out of my comfort zone and the sooner I was off of the 15 the better it would be.
I gassed up at Barstow and checked my mileage which was a respectable 50 MP/G for the highway ride then paused for lunch and to take a few notes for this post and then looked around quite a bit for other Victory riders heading my way. No luck there. The group from Santa Clarita and the San Gabriel Valley all left Thursday making it a four day ride weekend and I was planning to meet up with them at the ride sign-in at the Aquarius in Laughlin. No luck there either as it turned out. I headed out of Barstow and jumped on the 40 east toward the 95 where I took the 163 toward Laughlin and where I gassed up to be ready for Saturday’s ride. The 40 was nice, quite a few trucks but they were orderly and professional. The Joshua-tree groves here and there were nice and for some reason made me think of my grandson Jeremiah; sometimes strange dots are connected on a long ride and you take your pleasant thoughts when they come and where they take you.
I didn’t see another Victory rider all day until I pulled into the parking structure and our “designated” area where I found about 30 bikes and more groups of 2 or 3 bikes at a time pulling in as I made the acquaintance of Rob, a rider older than me who rode a 1999 Kingpin, the first year Polaris started making motorcycles. He was a proud owner and technically much more savvy than I about the bikes and their equipment. His was equipped with loud and hot pipes, neither of which is a favorite thing to do with a bike for me. Rob is a Veteran, proud of it, and passionate about honoring the Armed services and he had patches on his vest to prove it. This would be a fairly common theme amongst the riders many of whom ride honor guards for fallen soldiers and others returning home to their communities.
I stuck around the sign-in area hoping to meet some folks and snag an invite to dinner but none was forthcoming. I wasn’t feeling very outgoing as my heart and mind where with the CVHS students and community with the tragic suicide at my old high school; I know several students there and considered going home once I found out what had happened while I was on the way out. Instead, I prayed in my room and on my walks for them but it was hard to shake the feeling that I wasn’t where I was needed or where I should be.
As I wondered around the casino scoping out the bars and other gathering places I saw many of the other club members who were easily identified by their club gear mostly in the form of vests festooned with club patches, Victory caps, tee shirts, and mechanic’s style Victory shirts. I only have the cap for when I’m not on the bike; maybe I’ll have to add a vest or something so that I can be more easily identified at club events. I saw Kevin, my L.A. area contact but he was heading out with a group; he wouldn’t know me by sight and I’m not one to intrude. After dinner by myself I walked along the river and listed to a flock of Canada Geese up stream, played a few bucks worth of video poker, and then went to my room to read and catch up with Facebook news of the tragedy. It was a sad day indeed for our little town.
I ended up getting to sleep a little later than my regular time which is early. With over 300 miles ridden that day and a 200 mile day full of the unknown starting in the morning it was a good choice.
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