One of the worst trips you have ever taken on a motorcycle;

 

Back in 1970 I had just bought a brand new Honda CB450.

I had hard saddlebags added to it and a windscreen. It had about 200 miles on it.

Well, I had a friend that I used to pal around with, that moved to Sacramento, about 6 hours from here.  I figured a ride up there would break the bike in for the remaining 300 miles and I would get to see my friend.

 

There are a few things to remember here.

 

1.) I had never been away from home on my own, at least not very far.

2.) I was young, stupid and full of pi$$ and vinegar.

3.) Although I had owned a motorcycle previous to this one, I still did not have a lot of saddle time,
    so although not green, I was still not a very experienced rider either.

 

So, I loaded up the bags with goodies; put a roll on the back, and “head on down that long lonesome highway.”

 

One of the first things I remember was coming over a ridge on the highway that empties out into a large valley, I mean large, must be a couple of hundred miles in all directions.

It was such an awesome sight; it actually scared me for a while.

 

The remainder of the trip was pretty uneventful, except almost losing a saddlebag top and getting peed on by bossy in a cattle truck. Didn’t know what the green stuff was flying at my windscreen until I decided to get out from behind that 18 wheeler and as I passed, I could have sworn I saw a smile come across that cows face.  Hmm, didn’t know cows could smile.

 

The stay in Sacramento was great, got to see my old friend and stayed for about three days.  The sun was shining the whole time I was up there, what a perfect week.

 

That is until I decided to take the return trip home.

Getting up the next morning I heard the sound of raindrops.  Now it could not have been rain because I just got through with the most incredible 3 days of sunshine in the whole state of California.  But, looking out the window. Sure enough, there were raindrops as big as grapefruits bouncing off the ground. Arrgh. No rain suit, no wet weather gear at all.  Just me, my helmet, a pair of Levis and my black, thin I may add, leather jacket.

 

So I waited a few hours and the rain finally quit, the sun came out and I was happy again.

I waited another 30 minutes to be sure the rain had passed, packed up all my things, said my goodbyes and took off down interstate 80 on the way home.  Now back in 1970, interstate 99 was not completed all the way yet, but the section I needed to travel was and there was not very much traffic, so I decided on that route.

 

Well sir, I got about 50 miles down the road and what do you know.  Remember that rain that passed over?  Well it was hiding behind a mountain waiting for me to come along.  Its evil plan worked too.  As soon as I came close enough to not think about turning back, it hit me with everything it had. It came down in sheets.  Did it quit a few minutes later?  No, it rained and rained and then rained some more!

 

It rained almost the entire 8 hours it took me to get home.

Now you have to know that from Sacramento to my house is about a 6 hours drive or less.  So why did it take 8 hours?  Well for one thing, IT WAS RAINING SHEETS!!! Or haven’t you been reading this far?  For another I was not used to the roads and although there were faster ways to get home, I was sticking to the route I knew. Lastly, IT WAS RAINING SHEETS!!!!.

 

Now with that said, it rained so hard I could literally NOT see more than about 6 feet in front of the bike.  Fearful that I might be hit from behind by some insane and deranged motorist, I had my four way flashers on.  Still being nervous, I decided to draft an 18 wheeler.  I got about 10 feet from his bumper and stayed there for about 40 miles.

 

When intelligence finally entered my poor excuse for a brain and I backed off, I was soaked to the bone. I mean like a drenched cat. There was not a part of me that was not soaked.  That cheap thin leather jacket I told you about?  Well that sucker now weighed 600 pounds.

 

I finally decided to try and find some shelter and took the next exit, found a new gas station that was not open to the public yet.  Pulled the bike under the overhang and sat in the covey of the entrance, shivering like a wet mangy dog that has not eaten in weeks.  How do I know I looked like that?  Easy … three times people in cars came by and I could hear the kids in the back of the Oldsmobile Vista cruiser say, “Oh, daddy, daddy, please can we take him home.  I promise to feed him!”  One family actually thought about it for a second and then said something about getting me neutered, that’s when I growled and bit his hand.  Needless to say, they left me there, swearing to call the dog pound on me.

 

I sat there for the better part of an hour with no letup of the rain in sight.  So I figured, it was either stay and chance having to be all night in an unopened gas station or weather the storm and; like my high school wrestling coach used to say when someone would break a leg or someone else would tear off your arm, “JAWZ! Grit your teeth and get back on the mat!”  So with the words of my deranged wrestling coach still ringing in my ears, I decided to push on.

 

Now I had made Fresno or thereabouts and headed inland on the highway 41 planning to go across intestate five and then back over to the coast.

 

Between interstate 99 and interstate 5 it got dark and even colder, but just before it got completely dark the rain let up a little, enough so that I could see something besides the white lines of the road.

 

In the failing light of dusk, I passed a farm house and along the fence was a cow, now I could be wrong, but it was the same cow as in the truck on the way up!  I would recognize that smile anywhere.  If I did not have the mission of surviving the trip I would have found a baseball bat, gone up to that fence and hit that bovine right between the eyes.  But, alas, I had to get home.  As the echo of cow laughter faded into the distance the rain finally let up completely, but now it was dark, really dark … no … really, really dark.  My poor little headlight could barley make out the road because it probably had about 3 inches of mud attached to the front of it AND it was cold, really, really cold.  Being soaked to the skin did not help matters either.

 

So I had a decision to make that I would again make a few times in my life while riding the bike.  “Drive fast and freeze my ass off but get there sooner, drive slower and not freeze as much but freeze longer.  I chose to go fast, freeze more but get it over with sooner.

 

To say I was freezing is an understatement.  I was shivering, probably bordering on hypothermia.  I was shaking so bad, the handlebars were actually moving, but, I had to press on.  Now at this point I had been driving without rain for about an hour and a half.  I was freezing but I was also beginning to dry out a little.  Even though I was still cold, I noticed some feeling coming back to my feet and fingers, a little … a very little, but there it was.  I was about 2 hours from home and all I could think about was getting out of these clothes into a nice hot shower or bath or just sit in front of a heater for a couple of weeks to warm up again.

 

As I was reveling in my thoughts of home I noticed a yellow blinking light in the total darkness up ahead, so I slowed down from 75 to about 40 just in case.  Again, you have to realize it was a very rural area.  Alien space craft that have landed here have never been heard from again on their home world that’s how desolate it was.

Oh did I mention it was DARK???

 

As I approached that single yellow blinking light I was suddenly jarred awake by being thrown almost completely over the handlebars!

 

It seems that the road followed the terrain into a gully and it was washed out with a bout 2 feet of rainwater.  I hit it at about 40 miles an hour and water has the effect of stopping whatever comes in contact with it.  That would be me.  Slow down I did.  Have you ever accidentally belly flopped off of a diving board?  Well that is how I felt.  Man that just up and hurt.

 

So now not only was I cold, shivering and it was dark, but I was again soaked to the skin as the water I displaced just shot up in the air, and drenched me all over again.

 

I need to pause here and mention something.  Through all of this, that little 1970 Honda CB450 just would not die, it kept running and moving despite whatever I or Mother Nature could throw at it.  I thought for sure after getting dowsed with water that little engine would cough and sputter and quit on me, but it kept going and going and going… not unlike a certain bunny.  Nice job Honda!  My respect level for the company went up infinitely that night.

 

I finally made it to Paso Robles and the little ARCO station they had there.  The store itself was closed but outside they had vending machines. One of them had hot coffee and hot chocolate.  As I took my gloves off, well peeled them off I should say, I looked at my fingers for the fist time the whole day and they were a gorgeous irridesant purple from being cold.  I was shaking so bad, I could hardly get the coins in the coffee machine and when I finally did I was shaking so bad I spilled half of it all over my hands.  At this point I really didn’t care as the hot chocolate felt good over my cold dead fingers.

 

I thought about staying but was only about an hour from home so I figured what the hell! Got on the bike and took off down the road once again.  The hot warm chocolate only lasted about five minutes and I was back to shivering once again and low and behold, God must have really liked me because … IT STARTED RAINING AGAIN!!!!.

 

At this point I thought about becoming a satin worshiper, mainly so I could feel the fire of hell, any warmth would feel good right about now and I was open to selling my soul for some burning embers.

But alas, I came to my senses, what was left of them, and carried on through the cold dead raining night.

 

I made another uneventful stop, but finally made it home. I drove the bike into the garage and stripped off my leather jacket, which was no easy feat seeing that it had rained so much the jacket was actually transmutating into my skin.

 

My mother took one look at me when I walked in almost fainted and then said the words that will ring throughout my mind for as long as I live. “Oh, sweetie, I just drew a hot bath for myself, but you need it worse, get in there now.”

 

It took me forever to inch my way down into the hot water and bubbles.  Yes my mother had added some womanly smelling bubble bath to the water, but at this point I would have bathed in sewer water if it had been warmed up.

 

As I finally covered my body with hot warm water I felt myself start to tingle all over as the blood started to come back to my cold naked limbs.  I tingled so bad, it actually hurt.

 

I sat in that tub of water for almost an hour and thought; this is what heaven must feel like!

I went straight to bed that night, tucked under five layers of blankets. As I dozed off, I could hear the rain hitting the windows, safe and secure in my bed the only other sound was off in the far distance … somewhere a cow was gently laughing.