Tennessee Lunch Run 2005

Tennessee Route 116

As a motorcyclist living in Michigan, I look forward to the first clear roads of every spring. This winter has been lingering far too long. To pass the time, I have been following the adventures and plans of riders to the south.

see: http://gl1800riders.com

Among the many posts was one promising a meeting with other riders, a fantastic buffet lunch, beautiful scenery, and best of all it would be in Tennessee...far from the frozen north. A perfect way to break out of the winter doldrums.

If you follow the saga of the GL1800 GoldWing you may have heard of a recall to check the aluminum frames for weakness and possible re-welding. I got the dreaded letter of recall and dropped the bike off in mid-March. Time dragged and I finally got the call. The welds passed inspection and the 2nd annual Tennessee Lunch run was meeting in two days. It was Providence. I had to go!

That afternoon I posted on the BB I was in. A quick glance at the map indicated I could make it down near the event in about 10 hours. The weather report said rain, clearing by Friday afternoon. Giddyup.

Friday morning arrived with a couple of items that needed attention (unrelated to riding). Then it was time to pack a bag and hit the road. Since it was a bit cool and the sky looked pretty overcast, I put on an extra layer of clothes, leathers, chaps and went to the garage. I flipped the key to "on" and nothing appeared on the dash. Bad news. The battery was completely dead. I hooked up the battery charger, waited about 5 minutes, and click, click, click. News getting worse.

About that time, I retreated to the house and noticed my lower trim on the back of the right saddlebag was dangling about an inch below its intended location. Now I'm starting to become a little anxious about making it to Tennessee. I'm also having bad thoughts about the dealer.
Back in the house, a call to the dealer. I asked if he had thoughts about my dead battery and what may have caused the trim to be flapping in the breeze. He had no idea. Imagine my suprise.

Well, I told the guys onthe board I'd be there so I figured "what the hay," a push start might get me on the road. Luckily, the charger had worked its magic and the three year old battery had just enough oomph left to fire up the Honda. Things were looking up. I disconnected the charger and tossed it in the corner. I stuck the side cover back on and backed out into the driveway, being careful not to kill the engine. I figured the flapping trim issue could be remedied by some well placed duct tape until I could find a Honda dealer along the route and buy the needed hardware. "Improvise and overcome."

It was about 11:00 a.m. when I pulled into a honda shop in Maumee, Ohio. It's a miracle! They had the fasteners I needed in stock! A few minutes of laying on the parking lot and it looks almost like new. The only permanent damage was the scuff marks on the bag itself where something scraped down the back and took the trim loose to begin with. Oh well, its not even lunch time and I'm almost 50 miles closer the buffet. Plus the battery was holding a charge and was stronger than ever.

By the time I stopped for the first tank of gas, it was time to put on a sweatshirt. The next tank, it was time for another layer but I already was wearing everything I'd brought except my back up undies and spare socks. Onward and southward!

Cincinatti came and went, along with the last of the dry weather. Time for the Frogg Toggs. No more looking cool. The rain was light at first but gradually increased until it started getting interesting.

Even in the steady downpour, my raingear kept me dry and it was great to be on the first long ride of the year. It was great right up until both lanes of I-75 came to a halt. Now the rain that had been blowing over and around the fairing and windshield came straight down, and occasionally from one side or the other as the wind shifted.

Thanks to a late start and some on-the-road maintenance it was getting late and dark. With my less than perfect night vision, rain and darkness are a bad combination. On the upside, when I hit the traffic jam my gas tank was almost full and my bladder was almost empty. It was a good thing (as Martha would say) since it took about two hours to travel the next 10 miles.

The traffic crawled, when it moved at all, at less than idle speed. This is always awkward on a big touring bike but I made a good show as I passed and was passed by the same cars a few dozen times. I started to become familiar with several families who looked at me with pity as they sat with their heaters on and munched snacks. Every time we would creep to the crest of a hill, you could sense the disappointment as everyone saw the brake lights marking the route ahead until they dissappeared over the next crest or into the fog.

Well, I was still fairly dry except for my face and hands. My ski gloves had absorbed all the water they cold hold and were providing a wet barricade against the weather. I decided this was about as bad as it was going to get, barring a drastic drop in temperature. After all, I have been through worse...boot camp comes to mind. Shoot, I could stand on my head in peanut butter til the next exit!

Then the fog rolled in. Thick. You could watch it coming closer, from the depths of the cuts and hollows. The fog was cold on my face and now I knew Mother Nature had thrown everything she had at me and I hadn't cracked. She heard me thinking! Lightning. Not just a little lightning - spectacular flashes. Some were close enough that I could feel the jarring effect. My mind started wandering to thoughts of a direct helmet strike. I wondered if there was any chance of survival. I wondered if the little boys in the mini van would laugh or cry if I were to be suddenly transformed into a cinder.

About the time I started looking for a place to cross to the northbound lanes there was a sign. It said "Begin Merging - Right lane closed 4 miles ahead." I calculated at 1 mph we should reach the bottleneck in about 4 hours. I underestimated our speed. We reached the one lane point in slightly less than 1 hour. I was making much better speed than I thought! In the interest of good car/motorcycle relations, I resisted the urge to split lanes or ride down the shoulder to the front. Not everyone was so disciplined. Several drivers sped past the merging vehicles to a chorus of honking horns and I'm sure many unheard expletives.

Finally we arrived at the construction area that held back several thousand Florida-bound spring breakers for so long. At last sitting in the downpour would be over. At least I'd be moving forward. After each driver slowly examined the road improvements they sped off into the monsoons. It was raining so hard I could only occasionally see the lines on the road. I assumed everyone else could see better so I estimated where I should be and it seemed to work. I'm just glad I didn't encounter any road kill or tire parts along the way.

Finally an exit and just in time. I could see traffic ahead backing up from yet another construction site, accident, whatever. I had had it. I headed for motel row along with half the population of Wisconsin. There was no room at the inn. There were no covered areas. There were no hollow logs in sight. There was no recourse but to get back on the freeway. The next exit I came to was Lake City. Again motel row was full. No more freeway. I headed away from I-75 and stumbled across a Mom and Pop motel with a vacancy! Salvation. I must have looked (and smelled) like a big wet gorilla. The proprietor, sensing my desperation, charged 3 1/2 star prices for a room with two beds and pubic hair in the sink. Home at last.

The adventure wasn't over. My XM Commander model radio had absorbed enough water to wash out the digital display. Thats okay, I just left it on the '60s channel and boogied into the night. A bigger concern was some cool LED lights I had put on last year. When I turned the bike off, they didn't. I pulled the machine under the narrow eave outside my room. This kept most of the rain from falling directly on the bike. The runoff, however, was perfectly centered on the back of my neck as I looked for the short. I took a shortcut and disconnected the lights and turned in for the night.

The next day was the Tennessee lunch run and I was finally going to meet the famous Closet Chef in person. Only about 100 miles to go. I could hardly sleep! NOT!