Yes, It's Riding Time Again

Barstow was on the horizon, Sunday, May 14.  It was 440 miles away, and I was meeting Stef there.  I was having a nice ride although there was an issue with Highway 93 in Wickenburg.  It ends where I didn’t want it to end.  I finally got around heading north and the way I was supposed to go.  My GPS said to go south.  Can’t.  It ends.  Oh well.  A short detour.

I’d stopped for gas and as this couple drove by in their car the guy leaned out the window and said, “Have an extra special good day.”  How nice.  And I did.  It was great riding.  T-shirt, vest, no helmet until California.

The California border has an inspection station.  I pulled up and stopped.  The guy wanted me to pull up a bit further.  He asked if I’d like some cool air?  Sure.  There was a big fan there and he turned it on.  Wow.  It felt good.  And then I was on my way again.

Barstow is our usual meeting place, a Rodeaway Inn where they remember us and treat us very nicely.  Stef arrived about 4 p.m.  I arrived about 5:30 or so.  It was good to meet up again and be doing a motorcycle road trip.

The next day, Monday, May 15, we decided to head to Lee Vining, California.  There is a lake there with some cool things and we figured we’d maybe spend a day or two.  That wasn’t to happen although we sure didn’t know it at the time.

We rode merrily on our way, stopping to take a photo here and there.  One of the places we stopped was Pearsonville, California, the Hub Cap Capital of the World.  We found a few things of interest.  One was the Uniroyal Gal, who is also listed in Roadside America.  She’s a giant woman made of fiberglass with a blond flip hairdo.  What we didn’t know until later when we looked her up was that there’s a flower-adorned grave behind her next to a playground, of the Muffler Queen’s husband, whoever that is. 

The Uniroyal Gal, known locally as the Hubcap Lady, after a former resident, Lucy Pearson, who was rumored to have a hubcap collection in excess of 80,000.

We even found a load of garlic buds.  We could smell them before we got to them and knew what they were.

We could see snow-capped mountains around us when we stopped for gas.  It was beautiful.

We continued on our way, and the riding began to get bad.  We began running into a little shower here and there as we were riding through some high mountain passes.  By the time we reached Deadman Pass, at 8,036 feet, the showers had turned into a grand snowstorm.  Oh crap.  This wasn’t good. 

It just kept coming down, sometimes at a near whiteout … I couldn’t see and my windshield was covered.  I kept swiping at it with my glove.  I was cold, and apprehensive as I didn’t know how long this would go on or if it would be worse than what it already was.  Plus, I wasn’t dressed for this kind of weather.  I had planned on it being nice and warm.  I had put on more clothes at one of our stops, but they weren't enough.  Something white blew by me.  It turned out to be a sheet of ice sliding off the fairing.   We got through it and I was grateful that it hadn’t turned from Deadman to Deadwoman Pass.

By the time we stopped to take photos, this was all that was left.  The snow had slid down the windshield, and what had been on the fairing was mostly gone, too.

 

There was still a bit around the headlight. Ugh!!!

We got to our hotel and I was hypothermic, my teeth chattering and my body shaking.  A hot shower, the heat turned up to 77 degrees and hot water to drink helped.  Then I got into bed with my jammies, a fleece top and socks.  It made it all better.