2012 Rolling Over the 100K - Part 8 of 10

2012 Rolling Over the 100K

Part 8 of 10

Ashland Motel, WI

Man with No Name

Down Under Lake Superior

Ashland Motel, WI

It was getting late and I was cruising happily along Route 28 East. I could see Lake Superior on my left which felt strange because I usually view this lake from the other side. I can understand why its regarded as the largest lake in the world in terms of surface area. To me – its a sea. To my right I was treated to a very warm and welcoming sight. It was Wyoming's Ashland motel with a parking lot full of Harley Davidson motorcycles. Even more endearing was the sight of Harley guys and gals sitting in lawn chairs outside their rooms leaving their front doors wide-open and drinking beer. Oh!... “My brother's and sisters are here”, I said to myself as I pulled into the parking lot and booked a room for the night. There were bikers to my left and bikers to my right so I did what Harley guys do and I went over to say “Nice bikes”. The group to my left didn't believe that I'd ridden all the way from Vancouver so the biggest guy, the one with the most gold chains and the biggest tattoos, walked over to check my licence plate. “Holy S---!” he yelled to the rest of them. “The Vancouver guy's not kidding. He's got BC plates!” That's when they offered me a beer and a hot dog. The guys to my right were an older and younger brother also from Wyoming. The older brother had gone to bed. The younger brother was looking forward to his driver's test so I told him the story I wrote of the infamous Mr. Green on February 19, 2010. (Scroll way-down and click “Older Posts”. Go to second last story under John's Motorcycle Stories).

Man with No Name

It was still early the next day and I'd just finished breakfast at a McDonald's restaurant. There was no rain and the sky was turning blue indicating that it was going to be a nice

day. I knew from earlier trips that the further east I got on Route 28, the less the frequency of gas stations, so I pulled into a small gas station to fill-up my tank. The

highway was clear and I was surprised to see very little traffic. Frankly, I was trying hard to decided if it was a Monday or a Sunday without looking at my pocket notebook. The exit from the gas station met the entrance to the roadway at an exceptionally acute angle meaning that I had to rubber-neck my head around my left shoulder to see if any vehicles were approaching from my left-rear side. All was clear. What I didn't see was a red fast-moving Dodge Ram SUV coming from the opposite direction; screeching his tires while turning into the gas station exit where I was leaving; and aiming his SUV directly at me! All I could see were those chrome-plated high-rise front-mounted crash-bars and a Michigan plate gunning for me. Yes!....Gunning for me! I don't know what the guy's problem was. Maybe he was on drugs; maybe he was drunk; maybe he just didn't like motorcycles; or maybe he stomped on the gas-pedal instead of the brake. Thank God my reflex reaction was instant. I snapped the throttle on the Harley and I managed to get out of harm's way in the nick of time. He missed my back bumper by about three feet. I dismissed thoughts of reporting him to a police cruiser coming my way. That would have meant going back to get his licence plate number. By the time I'd put some real distance between us I preferred to think of him as simply a man with no name.

Down Under Lake Superior

US Route 28 from Ashland WI to the Canadian border at Sault St. Marie MI is over 700 Kms, roughly the same distance as Winnipeg Thunder Bay. Down under Lake Superior its ruggedly beautiful and the lake-shore is visible for most of the way but there isn't much there in terms of services – especially gas stations. I wasn't too worried because I remember several small gas stations from years ago spaced at reasonable intervals throughout the route. I then discovered that these service stations had since closed but I made it to Newberry MI without having to switch to reserve. After a refreshing McDonald's dinner I filled-up with gas and I asked the attendant a carefully worded question. I was going to ask him whether or not there were any more gas stations before the Canadian border at Sault St. Marie but I didn't want to be blown-off by a dismissive yes or no. I changed my question to say “How many gas stations are there between here and Sault St. Marie?” My plan didn't work. He blew me off by saying bluntly, “None Sir! This is the last gas station!” I didn't believe him for a moment. I took the photos of the stunning wooden elephants for my daughter just before I left Newberry. Ever since she was a little girl she has always like elephants and she always will. I rode hard and fast the rest of the way. I turned North at Interstate 75 towards the Canadian border. There had been four large gas stations since Newberry - all open.