Daytona Bike Week 2004
Prologue
Sometime in December I decided I was going to try and attend
the Iron Butt Association annual dinner in
I was going to be able to attend several group events. There was also some discussion of riding out
to
Eventually the plan boiled down to Jimmy riding to Stayton on Friday afternoon to spend Friday night at my place. The two of us would leave here for LA early Saturday and altogether we would head east early Sunday morning.
Day One – Saturday, February 28, 2004
Jimmy showed at my place on schedule on Friday evening. We were pretty jazzed to see each other again
and almost left right then for
Saturday morning we hit it right on schedule. I led Jimmy on local roads to catch I-5 at
the north end of
Minutes later Jimmy saunters out with a smile and a filter with a story about its purchase. Turns out they did not have any kind of auto related filter so Jimmy asked about the lawn department where, sure enough, he found a filter. Of course the filter was for a lawn mower. Nevertheless it flowed way more fuel than the plugged filter we removed. Once again we were on our way.
We cleared the Siskiyou pass with cold temps but clear
road. Next gas stop was
About halfway to LA from Sacramento Jimmy pulled off onto the shoulder once again. I thought perhaps the filter wasn't working so well after all. Jimmy was out of gas just 11 miles from our next gas stop. By his reckoning he should have plenty of gas but his reserve light (or equivalent on an ST) had been on for 20 miles or more. Using Jimmy's small hose we siphoned four water bottles of gas from my cell and headed for gas. At the gas station we discovered that Jimmy was unable to pull all the fuel from his cell or that it was not backfilling the tank quickly enough. Jimmy also discovered that he did not have an expensive folding knife he'd used to fashion a plug for the siphon.
Jimmy decided to go back up the interstate, cross the median, and hunt for his knife. I finished gassing up and headed out to the current exit to wait. Before long Jimmy was back sans knife. He'd found the whittled siphon plug but not his blade. We hit the road southbound, next stop LA.
We crossed the mountains into LA at just about dusk. Traffic was fierce but expected. Neither of us had been to Mike's although we knew the exit and address. Following my GPS we got right to where we needed to be and then blew the exit. By now it was full dark. Exiting quickly we stopped for Pig inflation and positioning and then followed the streetpilot as it routed us around on surface streets. Soon enough down the street we came to find Pete and Mike walking down the sidewalk in front of Mike's building. Mike opened the gate and we pulled in and parked to laugh about the pig and crack open Jimmy's Crown Royal. Food, BS, and crash space followed. Thanks Mike.
Day Two – Sunday, February 29, 2004
Sunday morning we woke early, around 4:00 am, and started
out by heading west to
Traffic was light this early on a Sunday morning and we made brisk time with Mike leading the way out of the city. The glare as the sun rose in front of us was harsh but soon we were climbing out of the valley and making our first gas stop.
Next stop was Buckeye, AZ where we took a bit more time to
use the facilities and "snack up".
By this time Jimmy was in the lead and had been since shortly before our
first stop. With Jimmy at point we headed
out again and wove our way through
The east side of
We finished crossing
The next few hours were uneventful. We ran into some construction for about 20
miles, but it was well marked, and we were herded off the highway for an
immigration checkpoint, but nothing kept us from making time. At one gas stop the pumps were not working
for the boys although the one I hit worked right off the bat. I took some time to re-aim my Hellas as I
warned the boys about the deer population at night in the
Traffic remained just heavy enough that effective use of my
driving lights was prohibited. As the
junction of I20 toward
Topping one slight rise we were met with screaming radar
detectors due mostly to our efforts to maintain Jimmy's brisk pace. We continued on but noticed that one of our
group, Jimmy and I thought it was Mike for a time, was stopped by the
In Ozona we made an extended stop and waited for Pete to
catch up which he soon did. Jimmy bet
Mike a drink that Pete would get away with a warning. Sure enough Pete talked his way out with a
warning and a promise to tell us to be more cautious. As we assessed our situation it was easy to
see that certain of us were tired.
Before even leaving for this trip we discussed the differences in ranges
and the possibility of the four of us breaking up at some point due to any
number of circumstances. We touched on
the subject briefly again and ultimately decided to rest at the first available
rest area. Jimmy paid heed and 30 or so
miles farther down the road pulled off at a rest area. Jimmy and Pete lay right down, Mike shortly
himself. I just walked around not quite
ready or willing to rest. I laid down
once and got up and then lay down again and willed myself to relax. The next thing I knew Pete and Jimmy were
standing over me. Mike was also up as we
collected our wits and saddled up. We
still had an outside chance of making
Immediately out of the gate I could tell Mike was not quite ready to ride as his headlight grew smaller and smaller and smaller in my mirrors. The short sleep had left me cold and kinda groggy and I had to concentrate to get back to the level of attention I held before we stopped. It was quite some time with my ‘lectrics cranked high before I warmed up too. Jimmy was relentless and I had to choose between keeping Mike’s headlight in sight or Jimmy's tail light. Fortunately Pete was also aware that Mike was lagging and he elected to hang back. I stepped it up just a bit in an effort to rejoin Jimmy whose tail light was gone. As predicted, the forest rats were out in force and stained the highway in many places. I rode with all my lights blazing and my eyes constantly scanning the sides of the road. It didn’t take much of that at all before I was wide awake.
As Jimmy and I neared
Somewhere east of
Leading Jimmy off an available exit I told him, at the end of the ramp, I was going to find cover and put on my real rain gear or I was gonna get a room. The room won out and we headed off to the right in the wrong direction. A couple miles later we turned around, came back, and crossed to the north side of freeway and found gas and a motel. Not needing fuel we headed directly for the motel and checked in. As we left the office, much to our surprise, there were Pete and Mike filling up at the station. Jimmy walked quickly back in and got another room.
Day Three – Monday, March 1, 2004
By now it was early Monday morning with the new day dawning
just as we hit the racks. A few too
short hours later and we packed up to head out for
Soon a Stuckey's appeared with excellent off and on access so
Jimmy pulled up for gas and breakfast.
Since we had not stopped for real eats since Ozona, and that was really
only a snack, we stepped inside and ordered up.
I was hungry and had their breakfast special, two eggs, toast, and a
side of grits. I also had their BBQ
sandwich special with a coke, at the same time, for lunch. Jimmy did some souvenir shopping and we
futzed around with gear and fuel logs.
My receipt said this was
Refreshed and full of fuel, both human and bike, we
continued our eastward journey. Right
away we lost Mike. Running steady for
the next 30 to 60 minutes did not put Mike into our mirrors. Pete caught me and motioned that he was going
to hang back again and wait for Mike.
Jimmy of course continued plowing ahead, slicing and dicing our
eastbound company with alacrity. That was
the last we saw of Pete and Mike until we hit
Over the next few hours it became apparent that Jimmy's
well known riding "style" was taking over. At the same time it became clear that the
local deer population was enormous. I
became uneasy at our after dark pace in dear country. Every little while we would pass a few
scrawny head with one or more cautiously eyeing the median. Jimmy's tail light started to fade from
view. I would catch up through weigh
stations or rest areas or wherever civilization encroached heavily and no deer
were seen. At times we employed our
Our last stop was after mid-night local time and we found a
couple of iron butt types there gassing up on their last leg of an
east-west-east 100ccc. One was riding a
BMW LT and the other a big
We made it; 1:30 am pacific, 4:30 am local time! We were well within our 50 hour goal. Now where were Mike and Pete?
Day Four – Tuesday, March 2, 2004
It was now Tuesday morning the 2nd of March and we were tired. Where were Pete and Mike? Jimmy whipped out his phone and made a couple calls to Pete leaving voice mail. In the meantime Jimmy dug out his Seal-All and we removed part of my busted flashlight mount and worked on fixing my fuel cell leak. A few minutes later after removing some screws, a liberal application of Seal-All, and retightening to repair the leak, Jimmy’s phone rang and Pete was on the line and just a couple miles south of us. Jimmy parlayed directions to the Shell station and they pulled in minutes later. The four of us spent a few minutes trying to locate a police or fire station for Mike’s ending witness before we decided breakfast was more important. Back to the all night diner spotted previously as we rode up and down A1A. We went in, sat down and ordered, all the while in high spirits and tired at the same time.
After breakfast we parted company again as Jimmy and I
headed for our room at the Days Inn off I-95 in
Later that afternoon we woke up, cleaned up, and headed
toward Daytona to find Mike and Pete in their campground. We figured we could hook up for a good
dinner. All we knew was that it was
north of
Now Daytona is a mecca this time of year for all kinds of bikes and riders but on this particular stretch of US Rt. 1 it was strictly Harleys as far as the eye could see. The pavement practically vibrated from the exhaust rumble. Jimmy and I pointed the bikes south on US 1 looking for a likely restaurant. Every place was full to the brim with v-twins of every description and local constabulary was in evidence in force. After cruising for a bit more we decided we’d better get farther away from Daytona to find an uncrowded establishment and reversed course to point in the direction of I-95. Saddle Jacks hove into view and the parking lot, compared to everywhere else, still had some room. We’d found our dinner spot.
While waiting for our orders, honkin’ steaks of course, with
sweet iced tea and buffalo shrimp to start, we called home and filled folks in
on our status. Jimmy just had to go to
Day Five – Wednesday, March 3, 2004
Wednesday morning we jumped out of bed ready to go. The night before Jimmy had inflated the Pig
to make the ride with us. The weather
was again clear and warm even at 3:00 am.
Off we went with me in the lead but, as usual, here came Jimmy to
stretch the rubber band just a little tighter.
We were making good time when, just north of
We took off again and headed south on I-95 to
Later on Jimmy missed a sign and a turn that would have kept
us on the turnpike headed for the Keys even though I was hanging way back
trying to get his attention. Bummer, we
were back on I-95 right in downtown
Up until now we had to concentrate on riding while forgoing the sight seeing. Once we hit Rt. 1 the speeds were reduced to 55 and lower to 45 through populated areas. The day was bright and breezy. Temps had not warmed up too much and we were enjoying the ride. The number of folks headed south was considerable but we just hung in and plugged along. Several times we attempted pictures while underway. The scenery was amazing and the water is as blue as the postcards lead you to believe. Even here 300 miles from Daytona HDs were everywhere.
Right on schedule we made
After a quick lunch we retraced our steps northward. Right off we came to an accident involving a motorcycle as they were loading someone onto an ambulance. Back on the mainland we passed another accident as a road crew was picking up mixed pieces of cage and bike.
This time we got on the turnpike and stayed there. In fact, too long! At the last possible place where we could
exit the turnpike to catch I-95 north I once again could not get Jimmy’s
attention to exit. Sometime earlier a
good looking woman driving a Chevy Blazer went by us with malice. Jimmy hooked on like he was umbilically
connected. In hind sight I probably
should have just exited. At that point I
was hot, tired, and hungry and just a little peeved not yet realizing that the
next possible exit was 60 miles up the road.
When that dawned on me I was just pissed! I sped up and came along side and gave him
the universal “you effed up” sign. At a
service plaza Jimmy pulled off for gas and I pulled up next to him and
proceeded to rip him a new one. Again,
in hindsight, that was probably a pretty funny spectacle as I was hot and Jimmy
was looking all shocked and contrite. I
cooled off rapidly after blowing off my little bit of steam. No big deal, we’d head back via
Northbound again we hit the last toll booth and I slipped through a lane with absolutely no traffic and was on the road before Jimmy was even up to the toll window in his lane. That was the last I saw of him for quite a while. Every moment I expected to see the ST’s headlight in my mirrors, but not so. Just about the time I was getting ready to exit to I4 and Orlando Jimmy’s headlight appeared and then was gone. No biggie, Jimmy’s a big boy and knows where we are staying. I cruised on back arriving at the motel around 10:00 pm.
Jimmy rode in about an hour later after making a quick stop
for souvenirs and a side trip to
Day Six – Thursday, March 4, 2004
Thursday was another in a string of beautiful days. Jimmy had an interest in FJRs as he said his
ST1100 had no soul so he was coming with me to the FJR lunch at the Down the
Hatch restaurant on Ponce Inlet south of Daytona. We got up relatively late and decided to take
the scenic route south and ride A1A all the way to Ponce Inlet stopping at the
local Radio Shack to check on some connectors Jimmy needed for his cell phone
to autocomm hookup. I was also looking
for a spare helmet speaker extension.
For once Jimmy let me lead the entire ride. Harley traffic was heavy and speeds matched
those in the keys on Wednesday. It took
us at least 40 minutes to ride from north
Once in Ponce Inlet the restaurant was fairly easy to find and when we arrived at close to noon there were already a couple dozen FJRs parked out front. Jimmy and I parked the ST and FJR respectively and introduced ourselves to several of the other FJR owners already there. Soon hunger overtook some of us and we headed in to eat. The food was good and the company congenial until we were back outside for more bike sniffing. There were several very nice FJRs in attendance but none were set up for LD riding. At least there were no fuel cells or hydration systems or extra lighting in evidence. Not very many radar detectors were seen either. Several bikes sported aftermarket exhaust but I still think my Holeshots are the most quiet and mellow sounding.
We stayed at the restaurant for a good 3-4 hours before leaving. There was an outside bar component and live
music but we didn’t hang around leaving instead for a run up to
On our way back to the motel from
By the time we returned to the motel Rick Martin, another
FJR rider, had pulled in from
Day Seven – Friday, March 5, 2004
Friday was another really glorious
In the meantime the last piece of my flashlight mount had broken off and I had another leak. Rick needed to go to the Radio Shack and since Jimmy and I had already been there we went together. At the same time I was scouting for washers and Seal-All to fix my new leak. Two hardware stores, two Radio Shacks, and one marine store later we had everything we needed and returned to the motel. I made quick work of my small leak and we prepared to find the King’s Head an old English pub where the MTF lunch bunch was to gather.
Rick and I found the pub easily as it was in
Returning to the motel after lunch we tried to nap a little
before gearing up for
Before long it was time ride south to Palm Coast as I geared up and ran down to Rick’s room where he appeared in the doorway putting on the last of his gear. Rick fired up his FJR and we headed for the highway.
At the Knights of Columbus Hall we had to check into the
secured parking lot by name. There were
already hundreds of bikes in the lot and large groups of people talking and
walking around looking at motorcycles. A
short line at the door had formed as people picked up their pre-printed name
tags or made their own if they were guests of an IBA member. I ran into Roger and Karen Van Santen on my
way to the door. Roger is a local
dentist here in Stayton, and experienced long distance rider, and owner of an
FJR. He has taught me quite a bit about
riding distance in a safe, sane, and fun manner. Tom Melchild had also ridden in from
The hall was large and filled with tables and chairs. The line at the buffet table moved slowly but it wasn’t too long before everyone was seated. Rick and I sat with Roger and Karen Van Santen. Roger was also a participant and finisher in Blister. Bob Higdon soon took the podium to introduce Mike Kneebone. Keep in mind that the IBA in tone is a serious but very lighthearted organization. Both Bob’s and Mike’s remarks were quite humorous and those present laughed as if on cue. One highlight was the presentation of a GPS to the newest member in attendance with the caveat that when it was upgraded it would be returned to award at a future dinner to the newest member present. The presenter was the previous user who had upgraded. Neat idea!
One of the “awards” that night was a plaque to the person
who’d ridden the farthest to attend this dinner. I thought I was a sure winner as I didn’t see
any
Toward ten o’clock things began to break up. In my efforts to be drawn for the 2005 Iron Butt Rally I made sure to speak with Lisa Landry before leaving to remind her that her entry confirmation email to me bounced. I asked that she send me another to be sure I could receive her mail. I also talked with Mike Kneebone for a couple of minutes and said goodbye and thanks. I would really like to ride in the big rally but question my own ability at the same time.
I considered running over to Norm’s but figured I was at least an hour away. Now, generally speaking, some splinter group at any sabmag event will be up ‘til all hours. With Jimmy sporting his CR but not knowing who else would be there I couldn’t guarantee I wouldn’t be rousting folks. So I rode back to the Days Inn with Rick Martin.
Back in the room Rick and I finished off the rest of the
beer and hashed out activities for Saturday.
Rick was interested in riding with me to meet up with maggots at the
races. He also was interested in hitting
the road as he had to work Monday and didn’t want to have to unwind from a long
Sunday ride. Rick lives in
Day Eight – Saturday, March 6, 2004
I don’t know how the weather could have been any better as Saturday was another warm and sunny offering. According to others on the scene Rick had waffled about leaving but in the end had made for home.
Jimmy called mid-morning to say maggots were meeting in the
Honda tent at the Daytona show prior to heading for the track. I asked who had been at Norm’s on Friday and
Jimmy ran down a partial list. I was
hoping most would head for Daytona. He
also said they were headed to
Hitting I-95 south it became immediately apparent that everyone else was also driving to Daytona. All southbound lanes were jammed and stop and go in places. I ran up on several accidents involving bikes and not all were of the v-twin variety. One group of sporties was on the inside shoulder with a cage displaying a large dent in the rear bumper. I’d wondered if the bike rider had landed on the roof or sailed clear over it. No ambulance or emergency workers were visible. The off-ramp at the Daytona exit was backed up quite a ways down I-95 also. Being on two wheels I made several shortcuts around the backups as were most other riders.
Out onto
I spent time looking at the bikes and was especially interested in the WCC edition of the VTX powered red custom. The Honda dude staffing the exhibit said he’d ridden it slowly, that it was loud, and actually quite fragile. He also said people were expressing a good deal of interest in it but that should Honda produce something similar they would be disappointed in the differences between a production model and a $200,000 custom.
Eventually the noon hour approached and Physics Dan appeared with his girlfriend, whose name I neglected to get although she seemed familiar, and introduced himself. Shortly I spied Tom Blum and we reacquainted and then Jimmy, Pete, and Mike showed up. We waited and waited for more but no one else met us there. While we waited the boyz test sat the pretty blue ST1300 and amazingly Jimmy and Pete were color coordinated. Looked real spiffy boys.
As it was race day we headed for the track. Before heading up to the grandstand to park it under the overhang and stay in the shade we made for the concession stand. For me it was again a breakfast/lunch deal. I had a hot dog for breakfast and a burger with Gatorade for lunch, of course at the same time. We watched the Boxer Cup, won by an American and waited for the main event, the Daytona 200.
Pete’s friends from
The races over we all parted and headed out, me to walk the
two miles back to my FJR. By now it was
damn hot! Traffic was just as bad headed
out at the race conclusion but I made short work of it and hit northbound I-95,
where the breeze cooled me down some, for the short ride back to
Back at the motel I began packing and performed minor
maintenance to head out in the morning for home. In the parking lot I ran into Verne Hauck
who introduced me to his wife. Last year
Verne rode a Harley over 100,000 miles and I met him while we both worked in
After a bit I took off to get some take out KFC. When I returned Jimmy was back after making
another souvenir run to downtown Daytona.
We ate and chatted about the day’s events and the whole trip in general
agreeing that it had been a fun time and was well worth the effort. We made plans to head out early in the
morning so we finished eating, cleaned up, finished packing, and lay down for
some shut-eye. Jimmy was going to head
north on I-75 to
Day Nine – Sunday, March 7, 2004
Jimmy and I got up before daylight to mist and slight drizzle, kind of like extreme humidity hanging in the air although the air temperature was cool. I rode down SR16 to get gas; I only needed a little for the receipt as I had filled up last night. Jimmy also filled up. We proceeded north on I-95 to take the I-295 cut-off to I-10. Almost immediately the drizzle stopped but as soon as we joined I-10 westbound we were in foggy conditions. Its only about 60 miles from the junction of I-295 and I-10 to the junction of I-10 and I-75 so Jimmy and I were honking and waving inside an hour as he headed north toward Atlanta and I continued west.
The fog was heavy in spots allowing only the use of my low beams and requiring more cautious speeds. It only began to lift after it had been daylight for some time. The ever present traffic was really quite light for a Sunday morning and I made good progress in spite of the fog.
I knew I needed to make big miles today so I didn’t waste
much time at gas stops and took long pulls from my freshly iced jug to slake my
thirst and stay hydrated instead of taking the time to buy something. My first stop in
In
After Alabama Mississippi came and went,
Gas in Orange, TX, a quick stop, real soon after passing the
“El Paso 867 miles” sign, and then on through the traffic of Houston to San
Antonia. It’s amazing how many miles you
can make staying on the bike and riding tank to tank, in my case 6.6 gallons in
the main tank and a usable 4 gallons in the fuel cell. I usually made somewhere between 250 and 350
miles between stops with fuel to spare.
Just northwest of
By now it was dusk and getting darker. I got ready to run into the night in dear country and took off. I ran off a hundred miles or so and started to feel like I would be tired soon. Another hundred miles ticked off and the first exit to Ozona was signed up ahead. So was a well lit Super 8 sign and I decided to head for the barn and call it a night. I checked in quickly, and out, to save time in the morning and tried Jimmy again. Oddly, his phone rang a few times and then went busy. I’d never had that happen with a cell phone; either the party answers or you get shunted to voice mail. I phoned home again and told Linda I was done for the night but planned to hit it again early Monday morning and that I had heard from Jimmy and he was well on his way. Right at 1300 miles for the day, just over half way to LA. I had watched the sun come up in my mirrors and watched it go down ahead of me.
Day Ten – Monday, March 8, 2004
I was able to park the bike right outside the door on Sunday night and only unpacked what I needed to clean up and change. Monday I was up fairly early, 5:00 am local time. I just threw everything back in and on the motorcycle and took off into the dark.
I had purposefully not stopped for gas here although I might
have saved some time. It gave me a
chance to stop fairly quickly to fill up and munch down some breakfast. Again, at my first stop,
As I left I thought about how freakin’ long
Traffic continued to be light this early Monday morning, no
major metropolises or even medium sized cities nearby. Finally I made it to
I made quick work of the long straight stretches in
Leaving the Chevron station in Tonopah I got in with a section of fast moving cars. Each was taking turns leading the pack and passing most of the other cages. I moved with them but hung mostly in the right lane, passing slower traffic when able, while they all camped out in the left lane. The miles to LA went quickly. Did I mention it was hot? By now my shirt was soaked and the air envelope I was in wasn’t doing much to cool me or dry me. I lowered my screen as far as possible and it helped, but I was still hot. Several times I stood on my pegs to stretch and pull clammy clothes away from my skin and just enjoy the air flow.
Together this band of cars and I cleared the mountains and
headed down into the valley to
I have decided that LA actually starts in Palm Springs. It was just past the rush hour but I couldn’t
tell. I-10 had turned into a sea of
lanes all with occupants. I tried my
best to stay safe and make time, kinda of like an oxymoron to say the
least. As I crept closer to the core I
knew I would have to stop for gas and a likely prospect, with relatively easy
access, came into sight in
I called home here, it was my first call of the day, and I took some flak. My phone had showed two messages and one hang-up. Linda was peeved that she had not heard from me all day.
I have a habit, it would seem, of stopping in the last of the daylight to leave in the dark. It happened here too. I’d told Linda on the phone that I would probably ride until I was out of the city and over the grapevine headed north on I-5. To that end I hopped onto I-210 and stayed there until the junction with I-5 north before climbing the grade and descending into the valley on the other side. A few miles farther on Buttonwillow had another Super 8. Having had good luck with the motel in Ozona, by far the best room at any price of the entire trip, I thought to try another. I stopped, got a room, of course this was a dump, and went to find some grub. Subway was close by but closed. That left Mickey D’s again, but oh well, I like Big Macs. Real close to another 1300 miles for the day. I was only 800 miles from home.
Day Eleven – Tuesday, March 9, 2004
As on both the previous days I was up before dawn and on the
road. Like yesterday I did not fill up
here but went on down the road before stopping for gas in Los Banos. If you’ve driven or ridden I-5 you’ve seen
it. It’s the only thing at the exit, a
big shiny Shell station perched on a hill on the west side of I-5 overlooking
the
Freshly fueled I trekked north once again. As the sun came up I noticed I had this great shadow with abnormal detail on my left so I decided to try and fish out my camera for a shot. After several aborted attempts tangling with my camera and traffic I got a clear enough spot to snap off a couple of quick ones. Couldn’t really focus so I didn’t think they’d be worth much.
I’d heard on the news at the motel last night that CHP would
be out in force to slow down speeders.
They were not joking! North of
Sacramento every bridge abutment was hiding a patrol officer with his radar
blazing. My V1 paid for itself in just
this one section of the whole trip.
It’s really kind of amusing to see the normally speedy
On the road again I was itching to get home and I was tired
of interstate traveling. Fortunately,
north of
Once again I’d made no calls home. I knew Linda expected me later in the day but
I did not expect to clean up
Epilogue
While I was riding my way home my friend, fellow rider, and
sabmaggot, Jimmy Bolin was also headed toward his home in Forks,
Unknown to me at the time, Jimmy was involved in a chain
reaction collision at around 10:00 pm central time on Sunday evening just west
of the I-435/I-70 interchange in
After I arrived home Tuesday evening I spent time with my wife unwinding and with my son who came over anxious to enlist my help to work on his V65 Honda Magna which he acquired before I left on this adventure. I did not learn of Jimmy’s tragic death until Wednesday morning when, still somewhat on Eastern Time, I got up early and started catching up on email and sabmag list traffic, among others.
I was shocked, dismayed, saddened, tearful, and without words for some time after learning of the news. I offer my sincerest and deepest condolences to Jimmy’s family and friends. The world has lost a good hearted soul and I mourn his passing.
This trip report is dedicated to Jimmy Bolin’s memory.
dougc Tuesday, March 16, 2004
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