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I woke up Saturday morning, sunny and warm; it appeared to be a glorious day for a ride--a great opportunity to check out the bike with its new tires and chain, still freshly polished from my showing her off during last week?s Harley celebration in Milwaukee. My wife was busy working most of the day and had plans with some friends for the evening, so I was solo. Don?t get me wrong, I love riding with my wife, but she gets a bit nervous on some of the twisties (?Not so fast on those curves,? with a punch to the shoulder), so I was really looking forward to the ride and being able to really lean into the curves I knew I would find.
I packed a back pack and strapped it to the bike, kissed my wife good bye and decided to just go where the road would take me. Heading North out of Milwaukee, I grabbed some lunch in Port Washington and considered the day?s journey. I thought Mackinac Island might be nice. I had no idea how far it was but knew my trusty GS 750 would get me there by sundown. To make some time, I got on the interstate and headed North toward Green Bay, the site of Sunday?s Packer disaster at the hands of the Minnesota Vikings. Congrats to all the Viking fans out there.
Just North of Green Bay, somewhere between Little Suamico and Peshtigo, an amazing thing happened. I looked down at my gauges just as a grasshopper landed on the bottom of my tachometer. Imagine that, I?m tooling down the road at 70+ mph and this little guy jumps on for a ride. Not that I minded, in fact, without my wife thumping me on the shoulder every so often, I was getting a bit lonely and welcomed the company. He (She? I didn?t have time to check) looked so cute there, but clearly was distressed, clinging on to the black plastic below my tach for dear life. About five miles after it landed, we passed a flock of Harley?s heading South and the uncivilized rumble of their roaring V-twins with modified exhausts nearly scared the life out of my little, hitchhiking friend. It lost its grip on the tach and thankfully a guardian angel was looking over this little guy this Saturday afternoon, it landed squarely on my left kneecap. Whew, that was close! An inch West and it would have been roadkill, an inch East-a ?Suzuki fried grasshopper.?
As we passed the Northpoint Exotic Dance Club, I slowed down a bit. After his recent traumatic experience, I thought my lil? friend may want to jump off there to relax and enjoy some of the fine NE Wisconsin live entertainment. He looked up at me with his big eyes saying to me, ?Yeah right!? He continued gripping on to my jeans, getting a bit more comfortable with the wind howling through his tiny body. As we entered Peshtigo and slowed down to about 30 mph, my buddy got the courage to jump off and fly off to the side of the road, clearly he had things to do in this small town. I wished him well with a wave and a smile and I continued on my way. He was a brave little guy, hanging on for about 10 miles.
I rolled in to the tourist trap, eh town, of St. Ignace, on the Michigan Upper Peninsula side of the Mackinac Bridge, about 7:30 p.m. (after the time change in Escanaba), 413 miles after leaving home. I grabbed a great sandwich on the deck of a local pub overlooking Lake Michigan, watching the sun set. I ordered a Grasshopper in honor of my earlier riding companion, but was informed that this pub didn?t make ice cream drinks. I settled for a cold beer. It was there on the deck that I thought I might as well finish the journey around Lake Michigan. I figure I could do it before I had to be at work on Monday morning. I finished my dinner and set off to find a room for the night
The highlight of the evening (excepting my grasshopper experience of course) was the excitement of the woman who checked me in at the Comfort Inn. She noticed I was from Milwaukee, saw I was on a motorcycle and asked me if I had seen Paul Teutul who had been in Milwaukee for the Harley celebration. (Who didn?t see Paul? There were only a half million people in town last weekend!) I had to admit, I had no idea who Mr. Teutul was, and before she gave me my key and let me get to my room she produced a chopper motorcycle magazine from behind the counter and gave me the 38 minute explanation of Paul, and his Orange County Chopper TV show with him, his son and his other son that just joined the family business (my wife and I don?t have cable and thus have been missing OCC) and described his ?awesome? Gasoline Alley shop. When I finally got to my room, I turn on the TV, and, get this, it?s tuned to the Discovery Channel, and, I kid you not, Orange County Choppers is on! What are the odds?
Well I figure luck must be on my side, so after being glued to the TV watching the competition between Paul in NY (Why is it called Orange County Choppers if they are in NY?) and some guy in Arizona, I collect my free $10 in slot tokens and head down the road to the local casino. It just keeps getting better . . . I turned that free $10 into $12! I couldn?t take any more excitement for the night and hopped the shuttle bus back to my hotel, for a good nights rest before conquering the rest of Lake Michigan on Sunday.
I packed a back pack and strapped it to the bike, kissed my wife good bye and decided to just go where the road would take me. Heading North out of Milwaukee, I grabbed some lunch in Port Washington and considered the day?s journey. I thought Mackinac Island might be nice. I had no idea how far it was but knew my trusty GS 750 would get me there by sundown. To make some time, I got on the interstate and headed North toward Green Bay, the site of Sunday?s Packer disaster at the hands of the Minnesota Vikings. Congrats to all the Viking fans out there.
Just North of Green Bay, somewhere between Little Suamico and Peshtigo, an amazing thing happened. I looked down at my gauges just as a grasshopper landed on the bottom of my tachometer. Imagine that, I?m tooling down the road at 70+ mph and this little guy jumps on for a ride. Not that I minded, in fact, without my wife thumping me on the shoulder every so often, I was getting a bit lonely and welcomed the company. He (She? I didn?t have time to check) looked so cute there, but clearly was distressed, clinging on to the black plastic below my tach for dear life. About five miles after it landed, we passed a flock of Harley?s heading South and the uncivilized rumble of their roaring V-twins with modified exhausts nearly scared the life out of my little, hitchhiking friend. It lost its grip on the tach and thankfully a guardian angel was looking over this little guy this Saturday afternoon, it landed squarely on my left kneecap. Whew, that was close! An inch West and it would have been roadkill, an inch East-a ?Suzuki fried grasshopper.?
As we passed the Northpoint Exotic Dance Club, I slowed down a bit. After his recent traumatic experience, I thought my lil? friend may want to jump off there to relax and enjoy some of the fine NE Wisconsin live entertainment. He looked up at me with his big eyes saying to me, ?Yeah right!? He continued gripping on to my jeans, getting a bit more comfortable with the wind howling through his tiny body. As we entered Peshtigo and slowed down to about 30 mph, my buddy got the courage to jump off and fly off to the side of the road, clearly he had things to do in this small town. I wished him well with a wave and a smile and I continued on my way. He was a brave little guy, hanging on for about 10 miles.
I rolled in to the tourist trap, eh town, of St. Ignace, on the Michigan Upper Peninsula side of the Mackinac Bridge, about 7:30 p.m. (after the time change in Escanaba), 413 miles after leaving home. I grabbed a great sandwich on the deck of a local pub overlooking Lake Michigan, watching the sun set. I ordered a Grasshopper in honor of my earlier riding companion, but was informed that this pub didn?t make ice cream drinks. I settled for a cold beer. It was there on the deck that I thought I might as well finish the journey around Lake Michigan. I figure I could do it before I had to be at work on Monday morning. I finished my dinner and set off to find a room for the night
The highlight of the evening (excepting my grasshopper experience of course) was the excitement of the woman who checked me in at the Comfort Inn. She noticed I was from Milwaukee, saw I was on a motorcycle and asked me if I had seen Paul Teutul who had been in Milwaukee for the Harley celebration. (Who didn?t see Paul? There were only a half million people in town last weekend!) I had to admit, I had no idea who Mr. Teutul was, and before she gave me my key and let me get to my room she produced a chopper motorcycle magazine from behind the counter and gave me the 38 minute explanation of Paul, and his Orange County Chopper TV show with him, his son and his other son that just joined the family business (my wife and I don?t have cable and thus have been missing OCC) and described his ?awesome? Gasoline Alley shop. When I finally got to my room, I turn on the TV, and, get this, it?s tuned to the Discovery Channel, and, I kid you not, Orange County Choppers is on! What are the odds?
Well I figure luck must be on my side, so after being glued to the TV watching the competition between Paul in NY (Why is it called Orange County Choppers if they are in NY?) and some guy in Arizona, I collect my free $10 in slot tokens and head down the road to the local casino. It just keeps getting better . . . I turned that free $10 into $12! I couldn?t take any more excitement for the night and hopped the shuttle bus back to my hotel, for a good nights rest before conquering the rest of Lake Michigan on Sunday.
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