How did you celebrate YOUR Freedom this year?

Friday 7/3/09
With the sun fully up and the sky finally blue after almost a solid week of overcast and rain, Jen and I loaded up the bike, double checked the straps on the luggage, and headed out on the bike for a much needed mini-vacation about 11:00 AM. Our first destination was lunch, but with only 58 miles on the trip odometer since the last time I filled the tank, we hit the expressway and headed toward Port Huron figuring we would get lunch and gas all in one stop. With the wind at our back and traffic a little light once we made it out of Flint on I-69, we managed to hit Imlay City around 1PM and filled our tummy’s with warm Big boy food while we watched the sky turn overcast through the windows. The sun was peaking through the cloud deck every so often, and it was clear that there was blue sky up there beyond those gray clouds, but it was also clear that we were riding into the remainder of the overcast cloud deck as we headed east.

After a quick lunch stop at Big Boys, a fuel stop across the road, and some time to put on the long sleeve t-shirts before climbing back onto the bike, we were ready for the next adventure. We made it to Port Huron and through the confusing interchanges of I-69, I-94, and M-25 before slamming into a line of cars stopped for what would be a long stretch of red lights. It was the Friday before a major holiday and M-25 is a major route from the metro Detroit area to the Thumb, we were in Holiday traffic at 1:30 PM.

We finally managed to make it out of Port Huron, north of Lakeport, where we toured a State Park neither Jen or I knew existed, and won’t be returning to, and realized that we had finally left the traffic behind us on our journey farther north. We stopped at a couple of roadside Parks along M-25 between Port Sanilac and White Rock and cruised along the country scenes while M-25 flirted with the shoreline of Lake Huron and the sun played peek-a-boo through the thick cloud deck above. Eventually we made it to Harbor Beach and turned inland on M-142 headed for a quick gas stop and our final destination for the night.

We arrived at the hotel in Bad Axe, checked in, and were unpacking the duffel in our room by 5:30PM, right on schedule. We checked out the accommodations, stretched our legs and backs for a bit, made a quick Walmart run for some items that had been left behind, and stopped into the Gathering Place, attached to the hotel, for some dinner. I managed to convince Jen to join me in a quick game of pool in the game room after our meal, which I barely won, and we each tried our hand at an old school Elvira pinball game, neither of us was very good at that either. The pool was crawling with loud children so Jen and I opted to forgo the evening dip and simply retire to our spacious room, it was by far the largest hotel room I have ever stayed in and could easily have accommodated an additional king size bed along with all the furnishings that were in there already.

Saturday 7/4/09
Jen dragged my butt out of a surprisingly comfortable bed around 8:30 AM, she had been up for at least a half hour before I even opened my eyes, and we managed to hit the road by 9:30. This time we were headed home, via the long route, and from Bad Axe drove north on M-53 to Port Austin, which looked like a neat little country town we would like to go back to, but we didn’t dare stop for all the people crawling every which way. Port Austin was the center of the Thumb’s 4th of July activities, including the parade that was to happen at 1pm, but at just before 10AM there were so many people every where you looked that Jen and I decided not to stop and instead headed west out of town along M-25 toward Port Crescent State Park. We made a short stop at a roadside park just outside of Port Austin and wandered down the sandy path for a photo opportunity of the shoreline and offered our assistance to another biker family who wanted their picture taken along the lake. While Jen and I were getting ready to climb back on the bike, the two bikers who asked us to take their picture wandered back up to their bike and eventually got up the nerve to ask if they could take my picture. He wasn't looking for a goofy pose next to my ride but rather, a shot of the back of my jacket, where my Dykes on Bikes Detroit patch is sewn. They LOVED the patch and he wanted to take the photo back to show off to the rest of his biker friends.

I stood still, smiling the whole time, for the photo and eventually Jen and I did manage to climb back on the bike and ride off toward Port Crescent State Park. After a short cruise through the campground, which both Jen and I agree we would NEVER stay in due to site size and absolute lack of privacy, we headed over to the day use area for a little time off the bike and in the sun and sand. Yes, sand. We didn’t hike all the way down to the beach, but we didn’t have to because the wind has blown layers of sand over the boardwalks. So much so that it looked like Mother Nature had installed the worn handrails and fence posts in the dune paths herself. It was a beautiful day to build a sand castle along the beach and stand knee deep in Lake Huron as the waves splashed up to your waist, but Jen and I opted to view it from a platform above the beach and snap a few shore photos instead.

After a potty break and a slow cruise through the rest of the day use area, we headed back to the main road and westward on M-25. Not long after leaving Port Crescent State Park, we came to a screeching halt on the highway and waited patiently for the white tail deer to decide which direction she wanted to cross the road in. The car in front of us spooked her mid crossing and she was clearly confused about the safest direction to go. Once the path cleared I rolled forward slowly, keeping a careful eye for any movement on the roadside while we slowly passed the area the deer had just entered, and where I suspect she came from as well. I was not about to tangle my motorcycle with a 150+lb deer, that would not have ended well for either Jen or me.

Not too far up the road, we pulled into the Sleeper State Park campground and, though the ranger told us she couldn’t allow us to drive through the campground, I made a somewhat intentional wrong turn and managed to cover one of the loops to the campground. We were once again checking out layout and campsite size, for future reference. As much as I was tempted to, I didn’t dare cross the path of the ranger again and venture to the other side of the campground. Instead, Jen and I headed across the road for a stretch/snack break in the day use area along the shores of Lake Huron.

We parked, grabbed the packable cooler, and headed up the boardwalk to a nice platform that overlooked both the beech and the forested hillside and dunes. It was a beautiful spot for a picnic lunch, or snack in our case. My watch said it was just about noon when we stopped but since we had to forgo the planned breakfast stop in Port Austin due to the crowds, my tummy thought it was much later than that. We snacked, stretched, and watched the flocks of Cedar Waxwings and robins fight off the large family of chipmunks from the berry bushes along the hill side. We even snapped a few pictures of a chipmunk munching down on a cracker that I dropped on the ground and decided to toss his way. It was too cute to pass up.

With our energy partially restored and knees in full working order, Jen and I climbed back onto the bike and headed out to M-25 once again. This time we were in search of a lunch spot hopefully not too far down the road. That’s where the trip got a little scary and I was reminded just how quickly things can get dangerous while riding a motorcycle. Traffic was clearing on M-25 and I was preparing for a right hand, up-hill turn out onto the roadway when my finger slipped from the clutch lever and I popped the clutch, with the forks already turned to the right, Jen on the back seat, and the 50+ lb duffel on the rear luggage rack.

I immediately put my right foot down, stood up off the seat, and did my best to straighten the forks while applying the front brake to keep the bike from rolling in any direction. I’ve done this before, even with Jen on the back, and we saved the bike. This time, the combination of the pavement angle, the weight of the duffel, and me never explaining to Jen that she should try to counter balance the bike by sliding her weight to the high side of the bike, were too much. We didn’t manage to save it. It was like a bad dream, helplessly watching in slow motion as the bike laid itself muffler side down. It was propped up in the rear by the packed saddle bags, which saved the mufflers from damage, and the passenger peg which folded itself up nicely under the weight of the bike. As I lay on the ground under the bike, it took at least a full second for my brain to remember what I should do. I slid out from under the bike, thankfully not pinned under it’s weight, and killed the engine before looking back to check on Jen. She was okay, not visibly uninjured and sliding herself away from the bike. We survived our first crash!

I jumped to my feet, asked her once again if she was okay and quickly realized that two cars had stopped on the road to be sure that we were alright. From seemingly out of nowhere two gentlemen arrived at my side to heft the bike from its pathetic side down position and help me place it in its much more majestic side stand down with forks turned and parked position. I could have done it myself, by using the laws of physics and a little technique they taught me in my motorcycle safety class, but I was thankful for their help none the less. While Jen and I collected ourselves and I adjusted the mirror that had been badly knocked out of position in the fall, I checked for obvious damage. We were on the side of the driveway and out of harms way, I took my time getting back on that bike. My nerves were shaken; I didn’t know what I had done wrong, why I had popped the clutch in the first place. I was concerned that I would do it again and the next time Jen and I wouldn’t be so lucky. I was well over 100 miles from home, the bike was barely scratched, both Jen and I walked away, though not entirely uninjured we would later discover, and I had no choice but to confront the fear and climb back on the bike.

Jen, trusting in me more than she probably should have at the time, took a deep breath and climbed back onto her seat. I waited for her thumbs up to let me know she was settled, started the bike, and slowly pulled out on to the road. I was driving far more careful than I had in months, listening to every sound the bike made, watching for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. It was then that I realized what had caused me to pop the clutch starting the catastrophic chain of events pulling out from the state park. My clutch lever was sloppy! Had I ever checked that before? The bike was still almost brand new, but with close to 8,000 miles on it the clutch cable had stretched and a simple adjustment would have prevented that fall.

Not far up the road, I’m not certain it was even 5 miles to be honest, I pulled into a lakeside resort that offered lodging and a restaurant that looked open for business on the national holiday. As Jen and I climbed off the bike I again walked around looking for damage. What I found was a little bit of fluid that had spilled out of the engine and onto the chrome of the air cleaner cover, I presumes oil but suppose it could have been gas as well. I explained to Jen that it was normal and did not mean that the bike was damaged. Motorcycle engines are designed to remain in the upright position and when laid on their side, it’s common for them to leak a bit of fluid. There was no puddle, there was barely any fluid at all to be perfectly honest, but it was just enough to washed off some of the filth from the chrome and make it almost shiny again. That's the only reason I even noticed it.

I also discovered that I had scraped up the end of the brake lever, the bottom of my driver peg, and the tip of the passenger peg when the bike went down, but that was it. No dents, no dings, no serious damage at all. In fact, all the damage I did do could easily be explained as simple flying debris on the highway, they really are that superficial! Lady luck was certainly watching out for us on that trip as it could have been so much worse. Even the injuries Jen and I sustained, a twisted ankle for Jen, a bruised knee and pulled right arm for me, could have been so much worse. My bike has a dry weight of just less than 700lbs. It was not dry, and it had an additional weight load of close to 100lbs with the duffle and saddle bags. Add in hot engine and exhaust parts, there could have been so many more common injuries, but we were lucky.

We collected our nerves over lunch while we watched the children playing in the pool and the waves roll in on the distant shore of Saginaw Bay, then paid the bill and headed out to the bike for the final stretch toward home. We were in Caseville, still a good hundred miles from home, but it was time to make tracks, trade the scenic shoreline vistas for farmland and open prairies, and once we hit Sebewaing, to eventually head south toward home once again. With an emergency stop to watch a mother mallard duck parade her ducklings across the road, then turn back to the shoulder where they came from and hide in the weeds, and gas stop just north of Frankenmuth where we stretched, refueled with a bit to eat, and quenched our thirst with some cold drinks, Our trip was rapidly coming to a close. We decided to head home the quickest route that did not involve the expressway. Just north of Flint, I changed my mind, made a quick right turn, and hopped on I-475 to complete our journey home. After two solid days on the bike and close to 350 miles logged, I was ready to be home and park the bike for a day or two while my tail bone and my now aching right arm healed.

All in all, we logged roughly 350 miles and a total of 10 hours on the bike over a two day period. We enjoyed the scenery, the wildlife, and the hospitality of rural Michigan. It was a welcomed break from daily life and an excellent way to celebrate our freedom on Independence Day weekend. We’ve even talked about a modified version of the trip this fall when the color begins to pop. It should be a beautiful ride along the shore of Lake Huron and Saginaw Bay with the trees in full fall colors.