Part 1 - The Ride Down
As usual the Hooligans firmed up the plans for a road trip just the night before. Why plan any
farther in advance than that? The plan was to leave my house at 6AM Saturday morning and head to
see the Captain in Hotlanta. We figured we'd be there some time that evening. DocGonzo, Inch, Jeffrey Hicken
and I were on the road after tanking up by 6:30. Not bad for us. It was a good ride that day. Not
a drop of rain during the 800 mile putt to the Captain's. Had a slight detour around Washington
DC. Seemed that we missed the exit on the beltway for I95 south, and looped north, almost all the
way around the city again, until we realized we were headed north. Never claimed to have a good
sense of direction. Although there was no rain, it was pretty cloudy a bit cool too. I've had Widder
gloves for a couple of years, but this was the first trip I had a chance to use my new Widder
vest. My wife and kids gave it to me for my birthday. I'm glad they did, because it works great.
I was nice and warm the whole ride down.
Somewhere along the ride south we were at a gas stop when Inch was complaining that he missed having a radio. He's used to riding his dresser with the radio blaring tunes while heading down the road. Since the dresser is still in the shop from the minivan incident, he had to make the trip on his CBR1000. Inch said he had to make up his own songs to sing because he had no radio. Immediately, I start thinking of what songs I sing to myself as I ride. I said to Jeffrey that I couln't get Guns N Roses "Welcome to the Jungle" out of my head as I was looking at the sun glare off of Gracie's chrome as we blasted down the superslab at 90. Jeffrey concurred with a similar sentiment but substituted some Steppenwolf instead. Inch chimes in with "I've been singing top 40 tunes with muppet voices." Then he starts to sing for us Madonna's "Like a Virgin" in a Kermit voice. I gets worse. He pointed out that Elmo always speaks in the third person, and started to sing "Elmo called to say Elmo loves you..." I almost pissed myself laughing. I stopped laughing when I couldn't get that fuckin' song out of my head for the next 300 miles.
Seemed a bit strange to us that we passed only 2 bikes on the road all the way to Hotlanta. Sure did pass a lot of trailers and bikes in the back of pickups though. To each is own. When we got to the town where the Captain lives, we stopped to get gas and called Captain to come get us. Jeffrey's bike, Gracie, did not want to start. We diagnosed the problem to be a wire that came out of a crimp terminal, and we were on our way. Picked up some refreshements on the way, and when we got there and unpacked, started telling all our stories and lies to the Captain and his wife Kelly. Can't help but wonder what they thought about this strange bunch of drunk Yankees sitting in thier living room. Speaking of drunk, that's what you'll be when you sample some of that clear fluid we were drinking out of a mason jar. Shit, I had to shave my chest whe I got home.
Got up the next day and the Captain made us some great grub for breakfast. He is not only a good cook, but one of the most knowlegable Harley collector/restorers I have met. He gave us a glimpse of his vast collection of memoribelia and bike projects. Very impressive stuff, and some project bikes I was most envious of. Before I start my next project, I will be sure to call the Captain first. Took some pics the morning we left of the Captain, head of the archrival Bullies, and DocGonzo, Hooligan Uno.
Captain's garage with Captain and DocGonzo
Choke hold with DocGonzo and Captain
DocGonzo and Captain making nice
The ride from Hotlanta to Daytona Beach was about 400 miles or so, and relatively uneventful. We did however institute a new Hooligan rule: While on a highway, if you see a billboard with 20 foot tall letters that reads "BUTT NAKED - EXIT NOW" -- do it!
Part 2 - Adventures in Daytona
Got off the highway at the Daytona Beach exit and my adrenaline started to flow. We were here!
Checked into the hotel with few problems, dropped off our stuff and headed straight to main
street. Guess we had to get that part of it out of our systems. Boy did we. Ate way too much
and drank even more. Hadn't had that many different shots in one night a long time. Got a couple
of the obligatory helmet stickers but was not about to wait in a 50 deep line at Boot Hill for
a friggin' sticker. We had beer instead. Saw a girl wearing an American Trash (a Hooligan
stomp in NYC) t-shirt. Yep, small world indeed. From main street we decided to head out to the
Iron Horse. Yet more beer. Checked out this vendor selling knives. The dude cannot be described
with words. Let's just say he knows a lot about how to use a knife. Saw a booth doing
tattoos. A light bulb goes off in our heads "Let's get those broken wing tats we always talked
about." We were on a mission. Turned out they did not have the flash we were looking for so
they sent us to thier HQ, Tropical Tattoo in Ormond Beach. Turned out they did not have broken
wings that we liked, so we decided to go find a broken wing sticker at the Daytona dealership
the next day.
Got up Monday morning and headed to Daytona H-D. They did not have any stickers. Go figure. We checked out all the vendors around the dealer and could not find one. Saw an interesting looking kit called the "Tiltster." Basically a trike where the whole front cockpit area tilts. Looked neat, in fact I would not mind trying to ride in it, but don't think I'd want to own one let alone build one. Finally got to see an Aerocharger first hand. Waaaay too much plumbing involved IMHO. The magnacharger looked quite simpler, but still kind of ugly. Jeffrey picked up a throttle lock shoe at the dealer. It cost him $1.32. He said to the cashier "This is the cheapest I've ever gotten out of a dealer." The guy said "You're not out yet." We headed back to main street and hit all the little shops in search of a broken wing sticker. Finally, after about 30 stores we found one! Inch, Jeffrey and I had planned to get our tats early afternoon and meet DocGonzo at Hooters by 4:00. It was getting late, and we knew we'd need at least a few hours at the tattoo shop, so we decided we'd go after Hooters. Met up with DocGonzo, had some lunch and downed a few buckets of soda. I was kind of dehydrated from the night before and being in the sun all day. Watched a bunch of people doing burn-outs in Hooter's parking lot while we ate. Kind of fun. Of course when we left, I could not resist and lit up my rear tire on the way out. The crowd cheered, which was cool, because most other times I do that, people look at me like I'm a real asshole. (Hey, if the shoe fits?)
We get to tropical tattoo, broken wing sticker in hand. Clay, one of the artists, used it to make a nice clean stencil, with crisp lettering in the shield. Inch had a good idea earlier to call Dana, who used to live down there, and find out if this place was any good. Turned out she knew several of the artists personally, and spoke very hightly of the place. They had enough artists available to do the three of us at the same time. So we got the stencils put on, layed down on the belly boards and got to it. We each had the wings put on our lower backs. Inch added a little extra twist by getting the sillouhette of a few cars and a minivan under his wings. Sort of like a South Pacific fighter pilot with zeroes for each kill painted by the cockpit. The tats all came all out great. Took a little over two hours each. The guy that did mine is named Pete. Here is his card if you are ever in the Daytona area. Here is a pic of my broken wings tat about a week later. DocGonzo met us back at the shop later and then gave us directions to a bar where we could meet him later. Once we got done, we hooked up with Doc at the Bar. Inch felt like shit and DocGonzo was getting up early to ride home the next day, so they headed back to the hotel. Jeffrey and I took a nice ride down along the islands even though it was getting kind of cold. It's still fun to just go ride.
Tuesday we decide to go to the convention center and check out the H-D exhibit and I really wanted to see the Excelsior-Henderson exhibit next door. H-D had the usual stuff, and Jeffrey fell in love with a dark green Classic. He had recently ordered a Classic in black, but after seeing this green beauty, he wanted to change his order. The factory reps explained what steps he needed to take to get it changed. In the H-D area was an official H-D 95th anniveriary Dodge RAM pickup and Dodge Dakota -- just when I thought I've seen it all. Met a few engineers from Milwaukee who were interesting to talk with. Also met a guy named Dave Barr who rode his bike 83,000 miles around the world in 3-1/2 years. He is also a double amputee. To me, this guy was just fascinating. Here is a copy of his card if you are interested in getting one of his books or video.
Later in the day we went to the beach itself to go for a little ride along the ocean. We stopped to take some pics of our bikes against the backdrop of the Atlantic at sunset. We pretty much had the beach to ourselves. There was almost no one around for a mile in each direction. The experience there felt kind of serene and surreal to me. I could have stayed there for hours soaking inthe tranquility. Took a bunch of vanity shots of my trusty 97 FXSTS. I think they came out great.
Daytona Beach - right side of bike looking towards land
Daytona Beach - right front of bike
Daytona Beach - left front of bike looking towards ocean
Daytona Beach - left side of bike looking towards ocean
Daytona Beach - right front looking towards ocean
Daytona Beach - right side looking towards ocean
Saw several interesting bikes parked around the area. Took a few shots of some that caught my eye. Check out this guy's seat. A real cool paint scheme can be seen on this ride. It may not be real clear in the picture, but it's a Mt. Rushmore scene with the 3 stooges. More like Mt. Stoogemore. I think the fourth person in the mountain must eb the guy who owns the bike. There was an interesting trailer behind a Shriner's 125th anniversiary edition. If I ever get a bike trailer, that's the kind I want. Also saw a Gold Wing ridden by a guy with a sense of humor. We took a look at the Excelsior-Henderson Super X. They had t-shirts and all. Got my picture taken on a Super X.
Got a few pics of the bike while riding along the river up to Ormond Beach. (You got to remember it's a big deal for us northerners to have your bike in a warm climate in March!)
Inch and Jeffrey by a palm tree
Gracie (Jeffrey's bike), my bike and Inch's bike by palm trees
Part 3 - The Ride Home
Jeffrey had a great idea. Since our ride home would be 1000+ miles, and we planned to do it in one
day, Jeffrey got the info for the SaddleSore 1000 from the Iron Butt Association. We read the rules,
which are available at The Iron Butt Association Web Page,
and decided to do it. 1000 miles in 24 hours was what we needed to get a SaddleSore 1000 certificate.
No problem, it only took us about 18 hours. The rules say that you need to have a law enforcement
officer, or some other official person, witness your odometer reading at the start and finish. We
went to the county jail just outside of Daytona Beach to see if we could make arrangments to meet
someone at 6AM the next morning to sign our witness forms. After a little explaining Jeffrey was
able to convince them to do it. We were sitting at the hotel the next morning eating breakfast
when in pulled a couple of cop cars. Turns out they were there on some unrelated incident. We
got one of them to sign our forms and saved the trip to the jail. It's 5:30 AM, we're tired,
hung over, got new ink and a 1000 mile ride home. Let's roll!
The ride home was long and cold, but keeping track of our gas stops and milage for the SaddleSore help pass the miles a little quicker. I stopped for gas about 10 miles from home and realized that I would be short of 1000 miles if I went straight home. I decided to keep riding with Inch into New Jersey, get more gas and then head back home to make sure I reached 1000. It was a real bitch passing my exit on the interstate knowing I needed 30 more miles. I kept going and got the miles I needed. After that last gas stop I felt like I could ride all night. I was in the zone. Went to a local police station and found a cop to witness my form. Turned out his boss rides and was still at bike week. A few more miles and I was home by 11:30PM. Damn good ride.
Copyright 1998 - Jack Houriet - All Rights Reserved
