Honda Homecoming Rally - 2005

Heading for Homecoming


Honda of America puts on a pretty good show every year and invites the public to inspect their motorcycle factory near Marysville, Ohio. The open house is only part of the event. The whole area puts out the welcome mat for thousands of pilgrims who come to see the birthplace of Gold Wing and VTX motorcycles.

The nearby town of Marysville closes off downtown streets and makes space available for vendors, bands, a light parade, and other events.

About 20 miles to the west, Bellefontaine hosts another large vendor area where you can find almost any accessory for a Honda and lots of stuff for other makes as well.

As usual, my attendance was a last minute decision. I had been following a bulletin board thread on the internet about a get-together on Friday and decided that was plenty of reason to run 150 miles down the road.

Luckily for me, the first hotel I called had a room available and the price was right. The Fairfield Inn was at exit 91 off I-70, just west of Columbus. That put me about 20 miles south of Marysville. A little off the beaten path, but considering there were 16,000 visitors at last year's Homecoming, finding a hotel anywhere in the area at the last minute is a little iffy.

Since Marysville is so close to home, I have managed to sneak down there for the last 3 years. I always head down I-75 to Findley where I take 15 east to 68. Route 68 runs almost straight the whole way to Bellefontaine. It is a quick route but boring. Along the way you encounter elevation changes of maybe 15 feet total. The highway is a tribute to the efforts of lumberjacks. There are few places on earth with a greater fondness for telephone poles. One redeeming feature of the road is the neat lawns that line the west side of the road. I passed lot after lot of freshly mowed lawn with the accompanying green aroma. Several scenes were repeated as I noticed thin old men wearing thin, sun-bleached shirts, atop lawn tractors, their backs slightly bent from decades of tending the land.

The east side of the road contains fewer houses but more corn fields. This section of road is so boring the non-domesticated animals run, leap, mosey, slither, and otherwise fling themselves in front of traffic to escape the monotony. The poor sad cattle watch in envy from their enclosures.

The upside is 68 leads directly south to civilization and a motorcycle rally. Like Elwood and Jake, I was on a mission. I hit 33 and headed straight to the factory. There were thousands of bikes in the lot and just as I pulled in, a space opened next to the demonstation pad. No, not protesters, riding demonstations. There was a guy doing donuts on a dirt bike and he was just finishing up his act. As I got my stuff put away, the "Ride Like a Pro" guy was starting his program. He was doing his confidence course and has added some pretty good dialogue through his mobile P.A. system if you listen closely. But I was on a mission.

I headed directly for the registration desk where I signed up to win a brand new Gold Wing. I was confident this year would be my year. My confidence was only equaled by the ten thousand or so other seekers of the holy grail. Still, the odds favored me since this is the third time I have entered to win. So I deposited my ticket in the drum, picked up a few freebies and confidently strode out into the sunshine to await the anouncement.

With a whole day to kill until they called my name, I headed to downtown Marysville. I had a secondary mission. I wanted a cradle for my GPS.

I dodged around a barricade and located an empty space on the street which was reserved for motorcycles only. After carefully shoehorning my 800 pound bike into a slot, I set out in search of the elusive E-Trex GPS holder.

I ran into Bill Morph who makes/sells mike-mutes. He and his family were enjoying the sunny weather and answering questions about the product line.

After surveying the vendor area and inspecting the ribs and chicken stand, I notice a few more displays on the next block. There I located the object of my search. After about 15 minutes of labor and $40.00 lighter, my GPS was installed. No more dangling from the strap wrapped around the clutch reservoir. It may be cheap, but it's nice to know how far the next town is when you're travelling and low on fuel.

While making the transaction, Polecat from the gl1800riders board wandered up. He too was in the market for some RAM mounts. When I was done with my install I found Polecat about a block away, poking at his clutch mounts with some odd tools. I dug around in my trunk and found the right size hex wrench and assisted with his install by giving helpful suggestions.
Partway through this exercise, RRIXX showed up and announced he was off to the same vendor, Cycle Gadgets, for some similar gear.

There was some talk of riding up to the Bellefontaine vendor area before the 4:00 dinner at Tumbleweeds. Time slipped away and we left Marysville with just enough time to make it to the restaurant on time. Along the way, I took the lead out of town and headed for the closest freeway access. Polecat and RRIXX turned off at a downtown intersection and headed for a different access. I caught them again on Route 33 but I'm still not sure if they thought I was lost or were just trying to shake me. Either way, we arrived at Tumbleweeds intact and were greeted by about twenty other riders from the gl1800riders board.

Dinner at the Tumbleweeds

With the precise skills of surgeons, a dinner was sheduled at the Tumbleweed Restaurant by CJS, Polecat and RRIXX. A gregarious lot, the dinner was open to anybody who showed up. Someone had tipped off the waitstaff and an area was hollowed out in the middle of the dining room to accomodate our little group.

I took a seat accross from Tourit and Alabama Ironbutt and his wife who had recently experienced a flash of minor celebrity. To my right was Natalie and her beau from Milwaukee. Others in attendance included Iwing, Hedoman, Bash, Mrgl02, Toyo and his bride, and a bunch of others. I think I'm the only one without an AKA. Not an original thinker, I guess.

The dinner was a great success. Lots of old aquaintances renewed, new aquaintances made, war stories spun and re-spun, time/distance records remarked upon and the usual touring rider conversations. When it was all over, the entire readership of gl1800riders.com was invited to Natalie and Chuck's wedding next August. Details to follow. All in all the festivities resulted in a good time for everyone. I'm pretty sure there was no damage to any of the facilities and no other guests were harmed or insulted during our stay.

Outside in the parking lot there was time for more conversation and pictures before the riders headed off in different directions. Hedoman and CJS invited me to stop by the Drury for a pop but I didn't make it. Polecat and RRIXX were headed for Dayton for the night, I think. Being the "King and Princess of CatsCade" you never know.

In a matter of minutes the parking lot emptied of Gold Wings and another get-together was history. This is the third time I have made an effort to meet up with members of the bulletin board, and each time I am impressed with the cross section of Americana represented. At each event, more people show up whose names or nicknames I have seen on the internet. More often than not, the people look different than I had expected (in a good way, mostly). I hope more who follow the BBS posts will take the time to stop by future meetings.

See you on the road.

Norris Dam, TN

When it comes to hobbies, motorcycle touring is hard to beat. The only down sides that comes to mind are initial cost, and arranging for time away from the normal routine.
My last adventure was a two day event which started on a Friday morning and ended late the following night. In between was about 1200 miles of good times.
Never a long-term planner, I waited until the annual week long Honda Hoot was half over before deciding to attend. My real goal was a side event hosted by Honda Direct Line, an online Honda dealer. Several vendors had set up a breakfast get-together for GL1800 riders at the Days Inn just north of Knoxville.
Part of the draw was a much publicized showdown between two riders who had taunted each other for months about their respective skills on a road course. The rest of the Bulletin Board community followed the postings, even encouraging a match that was finally scheduled to follow the breakfast.
The time was chosen to coincide with the Hoot and at first the route seemed to be leaning toward the infamous “Dragon.” At some point the location was changed to Route 116, a lesser known twisty road that snaked between Lake City and Brushy Mountain Penitentiary about 20 miles north of Knoxville. The selected road starts with a yellow sign and posting that says curves next 25 miles.
I’ll come back to the actual road course. With all the hype preceding and surrounding the breakfast ride, I really wanted to attend. Even if only to meet in person Rodehard and Yellow Wolf, the two antagonists who got this whole thing started.
Scheduling conflicts kept me from signing up for the actual breakfast gathering. The organizers had posted a cutoff date that I could not meet. On Thursday I got clearance to attend and posted my intent on the gl1800riders.com BBS. A short time later I got a private message from Polecat saying he would ride down with me if I wanted to meet him in Dayton. Some brief messages were exchanged and the following morning we met at the Waffle house on Dayton’s south side.
There is something about the anticipation of a long ride that keeps me awake the night before. This one was no exception. I got to bed promptly at midnight and soon after 0400 I fell soundly asleep. At 0500 the alarm went off. By 0530 I had gathered some clean socks, my E-Trex GPS, a camera and was ready to hit the road. I said goodbye to my beautiful wife and the chipmunk who lives under my front porch and was in the wind.
The bike was gassed up the night before and the 200 miles to Dayton was no problem on one tank. Polecat was to meet me at 0930 unless I contacted him with an updated time. At about 0730 I called to warn Polecat I would arrive closer to 0830. The trip between Ann Arbor and Dayton was uneventful. I lit up my blue LED lights a few times as I passed some of the big rigs which had their own fancy running lights. That got a few flashes of headlights in response. The air was amazingly still, the bugs were few, and there was not a drop of rain. In other words, everything was the exact opposite of the conditions I had expected.
At exactly 0830 I pulled into the Waffle House lot and looked for a parked Gold Wing. By roughly 0900 it started to dawn on me that Polecat was not a morning person. In the meantime I had time to fill the gas tank and gag down a few cups of weak coffee. Polecat arrived and after breakfast and topping off his gas tank we headed for Knoxville. We chose different degrees of riding attire. I had on my leather chaps and gloves, leather boots, and a Joe Rocket armored mesh jacket. My riding buddy on the other hand suited up in his tennis shoes, bare hands, and cotton pants and shirt.
Operating on one hour’s sleep, I sort of lost rack of much of the trip down. I remember traffic was light in Cincinnati, and I remember the weather was hot and getting hotter. We somehow managed to be going at an inconspicuous speed every time we went by the occasional police car. The only real scare came as I noticed a Crown Vic coming up behind Polecat somewhere in Tennessee. We were both in the fast lane and were easing past the other traffic. I pulled into the middle lane and watched Polecat follow, expecting the Vic to join us. Now slowing to the posted speed, we watched the officer continue south, obviously on a mission more important than traffic enforcement.
By 2:30 we had covered the 300 miles from Dayton and were looking for a hotel near exit 108. The Clarion was full but the staff directed us to a nearby Econo-Lodge. I am just guessing here but I think the staff took a look at us and figured a less expensive venue might suit us better. We got Polecat a room and then he and I headed downtown to investigate the HOOT.
We found our way to the rally with only one slight “shortcut” inserted into the trip. Once in the parking lot, I headed straight for the Dunlop booth for my semi-annual tire pressure check. Front 38, back 41. Right on the money.
In the meantime, Polecat had parked in the shade and was patiently waiting by the entrance. We got to the registration desk and were informed it would cost us $15.00 each to attend the remaining two hours of the exhibits. We headed north. Polecat dropped off at his hotel and I continued back to exit 129 where I had a room reserved at the inexpensive but partially clean Lamb’s Inn.
After checking in I headed out one last time to look over an interesting road I had noticed one exit south of me. It turned out to be the road to Norris Dam and some scenic back roads. I was tired but started to get a second wind as I slalomed back up into the hills above Lake City. It was peaceful and relatively cool on the narrow tree lined roads. I stopped for photos here and there and found a State Park with paved trails through the woods. I circled back out to Route 441 and found my way down to the base of Norris Dam. A few more snapshots and back on my way.
A little farther down the road I found an old grist mill. It had been preserved for tourists and was an interesting stop. The mill had a little stream between it and the dirt road. It was a short walk to a nearby barn where I found a huge scalding tub used for rendering hogs in days long past. Inside the barn there was a section of log which was on edge against one wall. The marker said it was taken from the world’s largest Ash tree which was lost when the TVA flooded its home back in the ‘30s. The section stood at least 7 feet high. It must have been a magnificent old man in its day.
After walking around the grist mill area I decided to follow the stream farther back away from the paved road. The trusty Gold Wing was steady on the dirt road but I paused when I came to a place where the stream crossed the road. I knew depth wouldn’t be a problem. It looked like maybe 6 inches deep at the worst. My concern was with the coefficient of friction beneath the water. I briefly considered speeding up and coasting across but opted to park and check the traction on foot. Another photo op and it seemed safe enough. Off I went and nary a slip. On the other side the road narrowed even more and rose quickly up the next grade. Along the way there was a number of challenging blind corners, most of which had a good line where a biker could avoid most of the loose gravel. After a while I came to wider road, then pavement, then houses and figured a main road must lie somewhere ahead. As the sun started to go down, along with my gas gauge I started to wonder if I should retrace my route. I stopped and consulted my handy E-Trex and discovered even though I was not on a listed road, my heading was indeed pointed toward a secondary road. A few more miles and I was back on 441.
On the way back to Lake City I stopped at one of the Norris Dam overlooks and rode up to within 20 feet of a deer which was grazing on the lawn. We looked at each other for a while and I made a U-turn and headed back toward my hotel.
The road between Norris Dam and Lake City is perfect for a heavy touring bike. Smooth road and long fast sweepers where you can set a foot peg down and see how long you can keep a perfect turn going.
Back the Lamb’s Inn via the local grocery for some fresh fruit and some diet Coke. (I had TV dinners in my pack). Nothing quite like dining solo on a microwave meal in a cheap hotel. Well, I wasn’t completely alone as it turns out. Tennessee grows some peculiar large bugs, one of which was attached to the wall over my headboard. I snuck an occasional look as I dined but could never quite be sure if the critter was interested in my food. He hadn’t moved far by morning (or had cleverly returned to the same spot to throw me off). I had seen enough bug guts on the windshield and there was always the chance he might elude me if I attacked and return the favor while I slept. At any rate he was quiet or I was tired and we got along fine.
The next morning was the big day. The Breakfast Get-Together was scheduled for 8:00 am with the big ride following. Earlier in the week, one of our heroes, Rodehard, had wiggled out of the big race by crashing his motorcycle in Memphis. He showed up at the breakfast anyway, complete with a fresh set of scrapes and bruises.
This didn’t dampen the spirits of the diehards who had come from around the country to meet the dynamic duo and ride the twisties with whoever was still standing. Following the required roasting of Rodehard, the 300 or so attendees broke up and headed out leaving about 15 riders to tackle the 116.
Since pretty much everybody was lost, it was decided Bob and Tom from Virginia would get us far as Brushy Mountain Prison. I didn’t get the whole story but it had to do with them either scoping out the route the night before, or (more likely) they heard from somebody, who heard from an in-law who knew somebody who said we could find the road by going “this way.” Lo and behold, we went almost directly to Prison where we stopped for what might be the last opportunity for a whole group photo.
The ground rules were simple. Yellow Wolf would lead and everybody else would ride their own ride which is GoldWingspeak for try to keep up.
Route 116 begs to be traveled by motorcycle. It’s a shame it can’t be roped off and turned into a full time road race venue. We made due without the ropes.
We pulled out in random order except for Yellow Wolf who took the lead. Robeth was next, followed by Gale, a friend of Galute’s, then me, then Polecat, then everybody else. I think the last 1800 in line might have been a yellow bike, two up pulling a trailer.
The road starts out with tight ess turns that take you uphill on what would be a scenic drive if you went slow enough to look around. On this trip, the meadows and woods could have been filled with neon glowing yetis and none of us would have noticed. The road was the reason we were there and it didn’t disappoint.
Yellow Wolf and Robeth disappeared almost immediately leaving the rest of us to flog the corners without our fearless leader. Gale set a pretty good pace and never gave me an opportunity to pass. As it turned out, this was probably for the best because I had left my suspension on a soft setting and was tripodding my way through a lot of the corners. When we stopped, Polecat mentioned he could see sparks coming off my undercarriage even in the bright sunlight. I love the smell of burning metal in the morning.
I don’t know how many corners there are between Brushy Mountain and Lake City but they never stop. Even the short stretches of dotted lines toward the end are not on straight or level road. Luckily for us there was no traffic going our direction until we overtook a group of other riders about a mile outside of town.
Stopped traffic was another matter. Coming out of sharp, uphill left hander a pickup was parked facing us, taking up the entire lane. That got my attention. Up until then the only variables were the occasional oncoming motorcycle and once in a while watching the bike ahead come close to the edge coming out of the corners. The pickup wasn’t a real challenge because at our speed, the only option was to slingshot past (across the double line) and hope nobody was coming. It worked.
For the first half of the run we were much faster than the oncoming bikes. Then a yellow blur went by followed by a red one. I knew they were GL1800s but they were going as fast as us… or faster. Then it started to sink in. YW and Robeth had turned around and headed back. We all pulled over at a wide spot and waited for a few minutes. Pretty soon our heroes returned and we were off again. This time a young fellow on a ST1100 came up and passed our string as we were motoring along at the speed limit for a few minutes. When he got around YW we picked up the pace and once again it wasn’t long before YW and the sport bike were gone. The next time I saw them was at the end of the ride. It turns out a Gold Wing can stay with an ST1100 through the mountain roads of East Tennessee.
The official ride ended as it had started, with a tire kicking session in a parking lot. As is typical of the free spirits who inhabit the GL1800 world, several riders said quick goodbyes and were on their way to various destinations. The remaining group headed out once more. This time through town to Route 441 and then a few miles up into the hills to a lookout over the Norris Dam. A few more pictures were taken, a few more tires kicked, and a few more riders peeled off for their own destinations.
The consensus was Route 116 was the highlight of the Honda Hoot. Every person in attendance was worth meeting and getting to know. I am looking forward to next year’s Yellow Wolf Ride. This one should have been videotaped from the air. What a show! See everybody next year.