In 2021, Steven Goode completed the Great American Deli Schlep, a 75‑day, 15,000‑mile motorcycle ride during which he visited the best Jewish deli in nearly every state and raised funds for MAZON, a Jewish nonprofit that fights hunger in America. You can read Goode’s feature about that ride here. –Ed. 

I haven’t been everywhere, but it’s on my list.” This is a quote by Susan Sontag and words I ride by.

After completing four major motorcycle trips around our wonderful country, each ranging from 11,000 to 17,000 miles, I told my wife I was done with long‑distance rides. Sort of the same way I’ve told her, many times over, that this was going to be my last motorcycle purchase. Of course, she didn’t believe me. 

So when a riding buddy said we should plan a big trip, I was all in. All I needed was a cause and a theme for the ride.

For a cause, I chose the Parkinson’s Foundation. In 2001, my mother passed away from Parkinson’s disease. A motorcycle trip supporting this cause would be a great way to not only honor her memory but raise money to support finding a cure and providing resources for those afflicted with this terrible disease.  

Although my mother most likely would not have approved of my 60‑day, 16,000‑mile motorcycle trip – she was still a mother after all – she would have been extremely proud of my commitment to this cause. She had a wild side, but she didn’t show it often for fear of encouraging her sons to follow in her path, which we did anyway.

For a theme, we decided to ride the top scenic byways in nearly every state. To help us plan the trip, National Geographic’s Guide to Scenic Highways and Byways (fifth edition) was an invaluable resource that provided descriptions, photos, maps, and interesting facts. 

When I told the Parkinson’s Foundation about my plan, they were immediately supportive and offered to help create public awareness for the trip. An important part of the publicity was social media. I’m in my late 60s, and I didn’t do Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, etc., so their team handled that for me. They also created logos and designed T‑shirts, banners, and a web page for my blog. Klim supported the ride by providing me with a Latitude Gore‑Tex suit, and Nelson‑Rigg provided some waterproof luggage.

Scan the QR code or click here to make a donation to the Parkinson’s Foundation.

We named the ride The Great American Scenic Byways Tour supporting Parkinson’s Foundation. After reviewing the route and the time necessary to complete the ride, my friend said the trip would require too much time away from work, so he bowed out. Since I had already committed to the Foundation and this was a personal ride on behalf of my mother, I decided to go alone. 

For those of you who are curious how someone plans a 16,000‑mile trip, here are a few guidelines. First, get a map of the United States and put markers next to the places you plan to travel to. Second, using the rough route map, create a spreadsheet with columns for the city in which you begin your day’s ride; the destination city for that day; miles you plan to ride each day; and notes about the route, landmarks, and things to see. Good planning is key for a successful ride, and being organized reduces stress. 

A key element to any trip of this magnitude is planning for unforeseen events. My mantra is “It’s all about Plan B.” On a two‑month trip, there will be at least one unexpected twist pop up. Mine came three days in when my dermatologist called to tell me I had a melanoma on my back and he wanted to surgically remove it as soon as possible. Plan B: I turned the bike around, made a beeline to Chicago, had the surgery, and was back on the road 17 days later. 

The beauty of this ride’s theme was that each scenic byway has its own personality. Like a thumbprint, every byway is unique. Almost everyone I met during the trip asked me, “What is the best scenic byway?” Just like when asked what the best motorcycle is, I answered, “The one I’m riding.” There are good reasons why National Geographic picked each of these byways to include in its guide. Each one gives the rider a special glimpse into the beauty of the region.

For example, the Red River Gorge Scenic Byway in Kentucky took me into forested backcountry, and I was able to get lost in my thoughts in the deep woods. One of the interesting features of this scenic byway is the Nada Tunnel, which is 900 feet long but only 12 feet wide and 13 feet high. There’s a single lane through the mountain, with no lights or painted lines. While pondering how to go through it, I asked some local Harley riders for advice. They said, “Look for a headlight at the end of the tunnel. If you see one, don’t go.” I felt like I was in a Road Runner cartoon.

In Newport, Rhode Island, the scenic 10‑mile Ocean Drive provided a glimpse of how the other half lived during the Gilded Age in the late 1800s. The Vanderbilt, Astors, and Morgans all had their summer homes along this rocky coast. 

Spanning two states, the Talimena National Scenic Byway follows Arkansas Highway 88 and Oklahoma State Highway 1. On the morning I planned to ride it, the forecast said it would be 105 degrees in Dallas, Texas, my next destination. I left at 5 a.m. to arrive in Dallas in time to beat the heat. This early start gave me an opportunity to watch the sunrise over the byway. 

After five days on the road, I could no longer remember where I was the day before, what I had for dinner the night before, or which hotel I stayed in. That’s one of the great things about a two‑month motorcycle trip – getting lost in the journey. Writing a blog forced me to recreate the trip daily so it didn’t become one huge blur, and it also allowed friends, family, and supporters to follow my progress. 

Another benefit of a trip of this scale is all the things I learned along the way. Like a school on wheels, I learned about our United States up close and personal, gaining a new appreciation for each region’s distinct personality and history. After the trip, I had a better understanding of our collective history. Whether it was exploring what life was like on plantations, following the Trail of Tears, or riding the path of Lewis and Clark, I was able to take a long look at our country and how we grew up as a nation, both the good and the bad. 

Every long motorcycle trip has unexpected moments, and one left me speechless and cleaning the mess off my bike for days. Leaving Elko, Nevada, to ride to Idaho, I took State Route 225, a two‑lane road with virtually no traffic. As I was riding north, I noticed something that looked like pinecones on the pavement up ahead. Once I got closer, the “pinecones” began to scurry. As I continued to ride north, they completely covered the road. Then I noticed that the road’s tire tracks were turning red, not asphalt gray. It was an infestation of Mormon crickets, which are about 2 inches long and don’t fly, and I was riding through an invasion of Biblical proportions that went on for 50‑plus miles! 

My original plan was to ride through California’s Death Valley National Park. Just before I left, I received a call from my son. “Dad, did you hear that a 65‑year‑old guy just died in Death Valley? He had two flat tires on his car, and nobody came to his rescue. Are you sure you want to go into Death Valley by yourself, on your motorcycle, with temperatures reaching 115 degrees?” Plan B: Due to the intense heat and time constraints after my unexpected surgery, I opted to bypass California, Oregon, and Washington. 

My favorite scenic byway changed from day to day. When I was on the East Coast, I loved the Rangeley Lakes National Scenic Byway in Maine. Riding the 17.6‑mile Chesapeake Bay Bridge‑Tunnel (U.S. Route 13) in Virginia, which includes a tunnel under the water, from Norfolk to Fisherman Island National Wildlife Refuge, was spectacular.

Out West, it was U.S. Route 191 (Coronado Trail) in Arizona and State Route 12 in Utah. Beartooth Highway in Wyoming and Montana is a must‑ride. It is hard to choose only one scenic byway because each is special, and every one of them gave me new perspectives on the areas I was traveling through.

People also asked, “How do you pack for such a big trip?” My only advice is to take less than you think you need but all that’s necessary for unforeseen conditions (rain, cold, heat, etc.). You must think through all the variables and prepare a Plan B. If traveling solo, use a satellite tracking device so family and friends know how to find you. 

Long motorcycle trips are not for everyone, but I love not knowing what is on the other side of the hill and feeling the thrill and power of the bike beneath me, experiences that keep me going day after day. I highly recommend checking out National Geographic’s Guide to Scenic Highways and Byways, picking a region, and planning your own adventure. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed. Take the time to enjoy the sights, sensations, and sinuous curves on America’s rich bounty of scenic byways.

During his Great American Scenic Byways tour, Steven Goode raised nearly $22,000 for the Parkinson’s Foundation. To make a donation, use the QR code above or click here. To read Goode’s blog, visit this page on Facebook. Below you’ll find a complete list of the scenic byways Goode rode on this tour.

See all of Rider‘s touring stories here.

Great American Scenic Byways Tour

• Alabama – Talladega Scenic Drive
• Arkansas – Arkansas Route 7 Scenic Byway
• Arizona – Coronado Trail
• Colorado – Pikes Peak Highway
• Connecticut – Lower Connecticut River Valley (State Route 9)
• Delaware – Delaware Bayshore Byway
• Florida – Panhandle Scenic Drive (State Route 399, U.S. Route 98)
• Georgia – Sea Island
• Idaho – Ponderosa Pine Scenic Byway
• Indiana – Ohio River Scenic Byway
• Kansas – Wetlands and Wildlife Scenic Byway
• Kentucky – Red River Gorge Scenic Byway
• Louisiana – Great River Road
• Maine – Rangeley Lakes Scenic Byway
• Maryland – Harriet Tubman Byway
• Massachusetts – Old King’s Highway (Cape Cod)
• Michigan – Copper Country Trail
• Minnesota – Great River Road
• Mississippi – Gulf Coast Scenic Byway/Hospitality Highway
• Missouri – Missouri Ozarks (State Route 19)
• Montana – Beartooth Highway
• Nevada – Lamoille Canyon Scenic Byway
• New Hampshire – Kancamagus Scenic Byway
• New Jersey – Delaware River Scenic Byway
• North Carolina – Outer Banks Scenic Byway & Blue Ridge Parkway
• New Mexico – High Road to Taos Scenic Byway
• New York – Catskill Mountains Scenic Byway
• North Dakota – Standing Rock Native American Scenic Byway
• Ohio – Ohio River Scenic Byway
• Oklahoma – Talimena National Scenic Byway
• Pennsylvania – PA Route 6
• Rhode Island – Ocean Drive
• South Carolina – Edisto Island National Scenic Byway
• South Dakota – Native American Scenic Byway
• Tennessee – Cherohala Skyway
• Texas – Canyon Sweep (State Route 207)
• Utah – Scenic Byway 12
• Vermont – Vermont Route 100
• Virginia – Back of the Dragon & Blue Ridge Parkway
• West Virginia – Midland Trail
• Wisconsin – Great River Road
• Wyoming – Beartooth Highway

The post Great American Scenic Byways Tour appeared first on Rider Magazine.

A couple summers ago, I flew to Minneapolis for a CFMOTO press launch and to visit our parent company’s home office. When CFMOTO gave me the key to a 650 ADVentura and let me loose for a day, I made a beeline north to Duluth to pay a visit to my friend Andy Goldfine and tour the Aerostich factory and store.

Related: 2022 CFMOTO Motorcycle Lineup | First Ride Review

Scan QR code above or click here to view the route on REVER

It was a hot, muggy morning when I left the hotel in a northern suburb of Minneapolis and made my way to Interstate 35. The 160-mile ride to Duluth took a little over two hours, and along the way, being in the Land of 10,000 Lakes, I passed countless billboards for fishing boats, fishing lakes, fish camps, and marinas. I also caught the edges of two rainstorms, which cooled me off in my mesh jacket and riding jeans. But as I-35 descended a steep hill toward downtown Duluth, the temperature dropped into the mid‑50s due to the cooling effect of Lake Superior. By the time I pulled into Aerostich’s parking lot, my teeth were chattering.

Andy Goldfine has visited the Rider offices several times over the years, but I’d never been to the Aerostich factory before, so to get a personal tour by none other than Mr. Subjective himself was a real honor. After seeing the factory, Andy gave me the nickel tour of Duluth, and we had lunch at a cozy Italian eatery called Va Bene, where I warmed up with meatball soup and coffee.

Related: Aerostich: The Great American Motorcycle Suit

Before we parted, Andy took pity on me for being cold and gave me an Aerostich waterproof/windproof innershell to wear under my mesh jacket. He also suggested I check out Skyline Parkway, a scenic byway that runs several hundred feet above downtown Duluth and provides excellent views of the city and Lake Superior.

I rode north along the lakeshore to Lester Park, where the Parkway begins on Occidental Boulevard as it goes due north along Amity Creek, ascending 400 feet as it follows and crosses a long cascade of waterfalls. In less than half a mile, the road crosses the creek, and its name becomes Seven Bridges Road. (The Steve Young song “Seven Bridges Road,” which was later covered by the Eagles and Dolly Parton, is about a street in Montgomery, Alabama.) Incidentally, the first bridge on Seven Bridges Road isn’t one of the eponymous seven; it’s designated “Bridge 0.”

Construction of Skyline Parkway began in 1889 along a plateau that was once the gravel shoreline of an ancient glacial lake that predates Lake Superior. Ten years later, a local land developer named Samuel F. Snively began construction of Seven Bridges Road. The original bridges were built in the early 1900s, but nearly all have been rebuilt in the past few decades, and each of the stone arch bridges is a work of civil engineering art.

At the end of Seven Bridges Road, the Parkway takes a sharp left and turns to gravel as it enters the Hawk Ridge Nature Reserve. Several hiking trails branch off from the road, and the Hawk Ridge Bird Observatory is a popular place to watch raptor migrations.

See all of Rider‘s Midwest U.S. motorcycle rides here.

The Parkway turns to pavement again as it meanders through a residential area. Riders must stay vigilant for the Parkway signs since several turns are required to stay on course. After crossing Chester Creek, the Parkway continues to wind through neighborhoods. Soon the houses on the lakeside of the road disappear, and riders are treated to expansive views of Lake Superior, downtown Duluth, and just across Saint Louis Bay, the neighboring city of Superior, Wisconsin.

After passing Twin Ponds, Skyline Parkway runs along the edge of a golf course, goes over U.S. Route 53, and crosses several creeks before passing through wooded parkland. The scenery and views are pleasant the entire way. I jumped off the Parkway when it crossed
I-35 to get back to Minneapolis, but it continues on the south side of the freeway, winding through the Magney‑Snively Natural Area before ending at Becks Road.

If you plan to visit the Aerostich factory or will pass through Duluth during a Lake Superior Circle Tour or other Minnesota motorcycle ride, I highly recommend adding Skyline Parkway to your itinerary. Due to the icy winters in Duluth, parts of the Skyline Parkway are closed seasonally, so plan accordingly.

Duluth, Minnesota Resources

• Aerostich RiderWearhouse
• Minnesota
• Duluth
• Va Bene
• Hawk Ridge Bird Observatory

See all of Rider‘s Touring stories here.

The post Skyline Parkway Scenic Byway in Duluth, Minnesota | Favorite Ride appeared first on Rider Magazine.

Motorcyclists living in Minnesota experience long winters with plenty of time to think about roads we want to ride. It’s a sweet feeling when spring arrives and the bikes come out of hibernation.

My son, Chad, feels the same way. We kicked off the riding season with an overnight Minnesota motorcycle ride down the Great River Road (U.S. Route 61) on the western bank of the Mississippi River, through what is often referred to as Bluff Country. The area’s complex hilly terrain has been carved out over eons by the Mississippi and other waterways large and small.

Scan QR code above or click here to view the route on REVER

Minnesota’s Great River Road is a popular motorcycle route that offers epic beauty and a chance to visit towns along one of America’s most vital corridors of commerce. Starting in April with the annual “Flood Run” charity ride, thousands of riders thunder up and down these roads and frequent the many small-town bars and restaurants along the way. I’ve been on many of these roads before, and I love riding old favorites and exploring new side routes.

Related: Exploring the Far North: A Northern Minnesota Motorcycle Ride

We left the Twin Cities early on a Saturday morning to beat traffic, and our first stop on this Minnesota motorcycle ride was the town of Hastings, which serves as a gateway to Bluff Country. The Hastings Riverwalk is a relatively new paved trail that connects to a 10-mile walking and biking loop along the Mississippi and Vermillion rivers. You can’t miss the towering Hastings Bridge, various sculptures along the waterfront, and the original footings of the Spiral Bridge, which was built in 1895 and dismantled in 1951.

East of Hastings, we continued south on the Ravenna Trail, one of the great lesser-traveled roads that tracks closely to the Mississippi River. We took the trail to the Prairie Island Indian Reservation and Treasure Island Casino, which boasts a 788-room hotel and Vegas-style casino attracting top entertainers. Resisting the temptation for easy money, we pushed on to rejoin U.S. 61.

Our next stop was Red Wing, a town established in the 1850s to support steamboats moving up the Mississippi River toward vast available farmland. By 1873, Red Wing was a leading wheat producer, but it was eventually surpassed by Minneapolis where larger flour mills were built. Today the town is perhaps best known as the home of legendary boot maker Red Wing Shoes. The downtown St. James Hotel was founded in 1875 and has hosted U.S. presidents, Mark Twain, and other luminaries. Downhill from the hotel is the historic train station, which has old wooden benches and period signage on the walls. I could sit there all day watching the river roll by.

Continuing south, we visited Lake City, which sits on a wide stretch of the Mississippi called Lake Pepin, the birthplace of waterskiing. The lake was once a water highway used by Native Americans, and there are burial mounds and settlement ruins located nearby. Today, you’ll see raw materials being moved in barges and recreationists enjoying themselves in sailboats and ski boats.

Towering above both sides of Lake Pepin are distinctive limestone bluffs and tree-covered rock formations. With such unique scenery, it’s a challenge to keep your eyes on the road ahead. One minute you are feeling the heat from the tarmac and gazing up at high bluffs, and the next you’re ripping through dense maple forests enjoying the cool air and earthy smells. For golf lovers, the Lake Pepin Golf Course has 12 holes laid out atop the bluffs overlooking the Mississippi River Valley.

We arrived at the next small town on our route, Reads Landing, just in time for lunch. This was once considered as a potential capital city for Minnesota due to its booming lumber trade and strategic location on the Mississippi and Chippewa rivers. Reads Landing Brewing Company occupies an old red-brick building with an outdoor patio overlooking the river. It has a full menu and was a great place to cool off and relax.

Adding to the Great River Road’s natural beauty is an abundance of birds soaring overhead. The National Eagle Center in Wabasha houses permanently injured bald eagles and provides an opportunity for people to see these majestic creatures up close.

As we continued south, we approached Winona, a vibrant college town that’s home to the Minnesota Marine Art Museum, which is located right on the river and exhibits artwork inspired by water. With a variety of dining and lodging options, recreational opportunities, live music, festivals, and shopping, Winona is a great destination for an overnight stay or weekend getaway.

Southeast of Winona, on County Road 7, is Pickwick Mill, one of the oldest flour mills in Minnesota, built in the mid-1850s. The mill was named by the area’s first postmaster, who was a fan of Charles Dickens and his novel The Pickwick Papers. During the Civil War, it produced 100 barrels of flour per day for the Union army.

See all of Rider‘s Minnesota motorcycle rides here.

After returning to U.S. 61 and riding along the Mississippi to La Crescent, we turned west on the Historic Bluff Country National Scenic Byway (State Route 16). Even away from the river, bluff topography continues with hills and cliffs creating the winding roads we all live for. Through the towns of Hokah, Houston, and Rushford, we paralleled the Root River and the Root River State Trail, a rails-to-trails bike path linking the towns of Houston and Fountain. 

After nearly 50 miles on the byway, we arrived in Lanesboro, an art, entertainment, and recreational hub where we spent the night. We stayed at the historic Hotel Lanesboro, which was built in 1872 from local limestone and is on the National Registry of Historic Places. Formerly a boarding house called Mrs. B’s, it once hosted Buffalo Bill and Doc Powell. The hotel is right on the main street with many good restaurants nearby. We had a tasty dinner at the Pedal Pushers Cafe, a nod to the many bicyclists who ride the state trail. 

My Harley is much louder than Chad’s Royal Enfield, and I felt guilty breaking the morning silence as we headed to the towns of Preston and Harmony. This area is Amish country, and it wasn’t long before we saw our first horse and buggy. Friendly and always good for a wave, the Amish are an interesting subculture. There are about 1,000 Amish in Harmony, and you can take tours to learn more about their way of life and visit shops with baked goods, furniture, and more. 

Seeing a horse with buggy tied up at a local convenience store, I pulled a quick turn to stop and take a picture. Soon two young ladies with bonnets saw me as I attempted to pocket my phone, not wanting to look like a gawking tourist. They wished me a good morning as they untied their horse and climbed aboard to clip-clop down the road. 

See all of Rider‘s Midwest U.S. touring stories here.

Harmony is also home to Niagara Cave, where you can take a tour 200 feet below the surface. It’s well worth it for this mile-long underground hike to see the various rock formations and even a subterranean wedding chapel.

We continued south on U.S. Route 52 to Prosper, a stone’s throw from Iowa, where we headed east and then north on State Route 44 to Caledonia, picking up State Route 76, which has twisties so enjoyable that we rode some sections twice. SR-76 took us north most of the way back to Winona, where we backtracked north on U.S. 61 to Wabasha. We then turned west on State Route 60 and joined a pack of bikers thundering in the same direction. Alongside the road is a lone sentinel, a skeleton biker that’s a reminder to keep the rubber side down.

As we left the river and Bluff Country behind, the terrain flattened out as we made our way to Zumbrota, home of Minnesota’s last remaining functional covered bridge. Spanning the Zumbro River, the 116-feet-long, 15-feet-wide bridge was built in 1869 and looks like a long, red barn. 

We rode northwest to Northfield, where in 1876, Jesse James and the James-Younger gang rode into town to rob the First National Bank. Facing pistols, the bank clerk refused to open the safe and was shot to death. Townsfolk retaliated, resulting in a shootout that killed another resident and a couple of gang members. The gang was pursued for 400 miles over the following weeks, eventually being captured in Madelia, Minnesota. Jesse James escaped, but his luck ran out when he was killed in 1882 by one of his own men hoping to collect a $10,000 reward.

We rode west to Henderson, which sits along the Minnesota River Valley National Scenic Byway, another favorite road. Henderson is an old river town with a historic downtown district that’s a fun place to visit.

Our Minnesota motorcycle ride through Bluff Country and along the Great River Road and other scenic byways gave us a taste of the history, beauty, and variety of southern Minnesota. The roads showcase some of the best riding, relaxing, and motorcycle-friendly places the state has to offer.

See all of Rider‘s touring stories here.

Southern Minnesota Motorcycle Ride Resources

• Minnesota
• Great River Road
• Hastings
• Lake Pepin Golf Course
• Reads Landing Brewing Company
• National Eagle Center
• Winona
• Minnesota Marine Art Museum
• Pickwick Mill
• Lanesboro
• Hotel Lanesboro
• Harmony
• Northfield
• Minnesota River National Scenic Byway

The post Beauty in Bluff Country: A Southern Minnesota Motorcycle Ride appeared first on Rider Magazine.

Dubbed the “Mother Road” by John Steinbeck in The Grapes of Wrath and known as “Main Street USA,” U.S. Route 66 will celebrate its 100th anniversary in 2026. No other road in America had such an impact on growth, migration, transportation, and popular culture. During the Great Depression and the horrific Dust Bowl of the 1930s, Route 66 was a paved pathway to a better life, transporting tens of thousands of people from the heartland to the West.

Right after WWII, my Uncle Don traveled from California to his hometown of Springfield, Illinois, using much of Route 66 and riding a kickstart, air-cooled, single-cylinder AJS. As I pondered my own journey on the Mother Road, it seemed fitting to attempt it on my 1978 Yamaha SR500, which is also an air-cooled, kickstart Single. Over the years, I have owned several Yamahas, but the SR500 has been my preferred ride for its light weight, effortless cornering ability, competent disc brakes, and simple but elegant design. I like it so much, I own two.

For my trip, I chose the one with 30,000 miles on the odometer. Except for upgraded brake hoses, it was bone stock. To get it ready for my Route 66 adventure, I gave it a complete engine and chassis overhaul, as well as a 535cc big bore kit, an oil cooler, and a SuperTrapp exhaust. I retained the stock air box and K&N air filter but re-jetted it as required. The new chain and sprockets were one tooth larger on the countershaft, which lowered cruising rpms and resulted in a mostly vibration-free ride.

Related: 2015 Yamaha SR400 Review | First Ride

The SR500 also has a no-frills CDI ignition system with a strong charging system, allowing me to keep my cellphone and Bluetooth full of juice, and a centerstand, a must-have for daily chain lubrication and fixing flat tires (I had one).

Find out more about the First 100 Miles of Route 66

Since Route 66 starts in Chicago, I transported my bike from my hometown of Merritt Island, Florida, in my Chevy van. The first day of riding started in Chicago rush-hour traffic on the Kennedy Expressway, which was undergoing road construction, but after stop-and-go for two hours in record heat, I was rewarded with the U.S. 66 “Begin” sign at the corner of Adams Street and Michigan Avenue across from The Art Institute of Chicago. Just a few blocks away is the Willis Tower (formerly the Sears Tower), and a few blocks farther is the famous Lou Mitchell’s restaurant, which is over 100 years old and served a great breakfast to start my trip.

Aside from the sweltering temperatures and humidity of August, Chicago’s beautiful residential areas and parks made the short trip to the suburbs quite pleasant. The first 100 miles of Route 66 is known as the Heritage Corridor, which also includes towns along the Illinois & Michigan Canal, which connected Lake Michigan to the Illinois River, and Starved Rock State Park. In Cicero, I stopped to see one of Al Capone’s houses. In Berwyn, I checked out the world’s largest laundromat, which is over 13,000 square feet and even has a bird aviary, and I also passed by one of the oldest-operating White Castle restaurants.

Traveling south, I found a neat roadside display in the town of Joliet called Dick’s on 66, an old towing shop decorated with several vintage vehicles and a patch of bricks purportedly from the original Route 66. Across the street is a restored gas pump and ice-cream shop. Joliet is also the home of the state prison and was featured in the 1980 movie The Blues Brothers.

In Wilmington, Illinois, I cooled down with a sundae at the Route 66 Creamery and spotted the first of five “giants” I would see on my trip: a Sinclair dinosaur on the roof of G&D Tire Company.

For this trip, I tried to take the oldest sections possible of Route 66, and Illinois had them clearly marked. Some sections of road looked more like abandoned driveways, with weeds growing through cracks in the concrete. My little SR500 was perfect for this kind of duty.

In Towanda is Dead Man’s Curve, a sharp curve that caught many drivers unaware and was the site of numerous accidents from the 1920s to the 1950s. There’s even a preserved series of Burma Shave signs that say: Around the curve / lickety-split / beautiful car / wasn’t it? I had a 25-plus mph headwind for most of that first day, and it felt as if I was riding into a blow drier. My first night was spent at the Ghost Hollow Lodge in Chandlerville, Illinois, where I fortified myself with a dinner of venison and fresh veggies.

On the second day, I stopped in Springfield to cool down with an iced tea at Route 66 Motorheads Bar & Grill, which also has a museum and gaming room. Just south of Springfield in Carlinville, my fun was interrupted by a flat tire. I had packed tools, tire irons, a portable compressor, and a tube patch kit, but my tube was too badly mangled by the nail. Scott McDaniels of S&S ATV came to the rescue by delivering a new tube (at no charge), a local resident across the street brought me ice water, and the local city hall allowed me to do the work on the north side of their office in the shade on the concrete. It just goes to show how kind strangers can be when you are in a bind.

The repair set me back almost four hours, and I had to bypass many of the Route 66 sights from Carlinville to St. Charles, Missouri, where I stayed with friends. The following day, I unloaded my luggage and backtracked to Granite City, Illinois, to see the Old Chain of Rocks Bridge. The mile-long bridge was part of the original Route 66 from 1936 to 1965 and allowed motor vehicles to cross the Mississippi River from Illinois to Missouri. It features a 30-degree turn partway through. I had gone over this bridge in a car as a kid before it was decommissioned in 1968. It is now only open to foot traffic and bicycles.

While in St. Louis, I also went up into the 630-foot Gateway Arch, which was completed in 1965. It is now part of the National Park Service, and with recent remodeling and upgrades, it’s a not-to-miss experience. I also visited the National Museum of Transportation on the west side of St. Louis. This may be one of the best transportation museums in the country and has the only remaining GM Aerotrains. It also has a running Chrysler Turbine Car like the one at the Henry Ford Museum in Michigan.

After getting my luggage loaded back on the SR500, my next stop was Times Beach, Missouri. Route 66 used to cross the Meramec River there, and the remnants of the bridge are still there, along with a Route 66 State Park. I met some folks from Europe riding Route 66 on rented Harleys, and they were aghast that I was attempting to make the same trip on my antique bike with no GPS navigation and only an EZ66 guide in my tankbag.

Times Beach was the site of the second largest EPA Superfund site due to a local contractor spraying dioxin on the dirt roads for dust control. All the buildings were bought by the EPA and leveled, and it’s currently considered a ghost town. West of Times Beach is the Meramec Caverns, where I ran into my new European friends again. My bike would do roughly 100 miles per tank of fuel, which coincided with my body’s need to stand up and stretch out a bit and suck down a cold beverage.

I stayed at the KOA in Springfield, Missouri, that night and rented a cabin. I had planned on renting a primitive campsite, but for only about $40 more, I got an air-conditioned cabin, lights, electricity, a mattress, a table, and a TV. It was a bargain!

Along the way in Missouri are a few museums and stops such as a replica 1930s Sinclair station called Gary’s Gay Parita in Ash Grove, Missouri, where the sign reads “Gas Wars” and advertises fuel at 15 cents per gallon. Another sign reads “Kendal, your 2,000 mile oil!” We have certainly come a long way!

Shortly after the Sinclair station on the Old Route 66 trail, I crossed an old truss bridge that crossed over Johnson Creek in Spencer, Missouri. Like the old sections of Route 66 in Illinois, this section looked like an abandoned road going into the backwoods. It was beautiful.

Kansas only has a very short 13-mile section of the Old Route 66 path, and if you take that, you are blessed with crossing one of the few remaining Marsh Arch bridges left in the country – and the only remaining one on Route 66, this one having been built in the early 1900s.

Oklahoma likely has the most Route 66 sites of any state. After the road was decommissioned by the federal government for use as a federal highway, Oklahoma named it State Road 66. It’s easy to follow, although I did manage to miss a sign and ride maybe 50 miles off course. The best Route 66 Museum is in Clinton, Oklahoma. It covers the initial planning and construction of the route, along with different scenes of Americana, a video of the Dust Bowl, and more.

There are more giant statues to be seen as you pass through Oklahoma, including Buck Atom, the 21-foot-tall space cowboy in Tulsa holding a rocket. Tulsa also has a cool park downtown called the Cyrus Avery Centennial Plaza that has three tall old neon motel signs relocated there from the early days of Route 66. Further south is a Route 66 village with an old train, a gas station, and an oil derrick.

The last section of Route 66 I rode in Oklahoma was a mostly abandoned concrete road that paralleled Interstate 40, but you could tell it was part of the original route. How many mostly abandoned four-lane concrete highways going into nowhere with no traffic do you see? At one point, I thought I was off-track, but then I saw the Texas state sign and the familiar white outlined Route 66 logo painted on the road.

In Texas, much of Route 66 is access highways on either side of the interstate, which worked just fine for my trusty mule since I could travel at more relaxed speeds in the intense heat. Along the way, you pass by the Leaning (water) Tower of Britten in Groom, Texas, and Amarillo gives you the Cadillac Ranch.

After visiting the Cadillac Ranch, I stopped at a KOA, and when I tried to start my bike again, it didn’t fire up. It turned out to be an issue with the ignition system, and despite having the parts from my other SR500 shipped to me to attempt a repair, it didn’t take. I cut my trip short and loaded the bike in the back of a Penske truck and headed back east.

In spite of a flat tire, intense heat and humidity, and an ignition failure, this was the most fun I can recall in most of my life. In retrospect, I should have tried making this trip on a newer bike, but part of the fun was riding a kickstart antique.

If you are considering riding this road, I would suggest waiting until 2026 for the 100-year anniversary since I heard plans in various towns along the way for some centennial events, so it should be even better.

ROUTE 66 RESOURCES:

• National Park Service: Route 66
• Chicago Tourism
• Illinois Tourism
• Heritage Corridor (First 100 Miles of Route 66)
• Missouri Tourism
• Gateway Arch
• Oklahoma Tourism
• Texas Tourism

The post Get Your Kickstart on Route 66 appeared first on Rider Magazine.

As a resident of Minnesota with incurable wanderlust, I’ve visited Michigan’s Upper Peninsula a few times, including doing the 1,300‑mile Lake Superior Circle Tour twice. But one area of the Upper Peninsula – known locally as the “U.P.” – I had yet to explore is the Keweenaw Peninsula, a 150‑mile‑long wedge of land that looks like a long dorsal fin jutting into Lake Superior. Before Old Man Winter brought an end to the riding season, my friend Craig and I squeezed in a mid‑October ride, making a big loop around the U.P. where we enjoyed the area’s rich history, unparalleled scenery, and excellent motorcycling roads.

Scan QR code above or click here to view the route on REVER

We met up just east of Minneapolis in Hudson, Wisconsin, on a cool, clear autumn day. Craig was on his KTM 890 Adventure, and I was on my Harley‑Davidson Pan American, which I call “Dirt Glide.” With no rain in the forecast, we were excited to hit the road.

We crossed into Michigan on U.S. Route 2 and continued northeast on M‑28 to Lake Gogebic, the state’s largest inland lake. The long, finger‑shaped lake is a popular spot for outdoor activities year‑round. It has 13,380 acres of good fishing water, and there are plenty of opportunities for hiking, mountain biking, hunting, camping, and winter sports. Surrounded by vast hardwood forests, it’s a great place to see fall colors. It also gets an annual snowfall of nearly 300 inches and has an excellent snowmobile trail system.

For motorcyclists, a loop around Lake Gogebic is an enjoyable scenic ride. M‑64 hugs the western shore, and East Shore Road hugs the other side, and there are parks, lodges, and dining options dotted along the nearly 40‑mile route. At the lake’s northern end at the junction of M‑28 and M‑64 is Bergland, which has places to eat, drink, and stay, as well as a museum highlighting the local history of mining, logging, and sports.

After enjoying the scenery of the lake, we continued up M‑64 to the Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park, Michigan’s largest state park and home of the Lake of the Clouds. Covering 60,000 acres with 35,000 acres of old‑growth forest, the park has waterfalls, rivers and streams, hiking trails, a campground, and miles of scenic Lake Superior shoreline.

Our ride up to the Lake of the Clouds scenic overlook was rewarded with a kaleidoscope of fall colors and scenery that lives up to the lake’s name. After a few photos, we were back on the bikes and followed M‑64 along the southern shore of Lake Superior to Ontonagon, where we turned inland on M‑38 to M‑26, which runs up the center of the Keweenaw Peninsula, also known as the Copper Country region.

At Houghton, we crossed the Portage Lake Lift Bridge and continued north on U.S. Route 41. With the sun fading, we rode to our overnight destination at the AmericInn in Calumet. The hotel is within walking distance of restaurants, stores, and the Keweenaw National Historic Park, which showcases the area’s 7,000‑year history of copper mining.

See all of Rider‘s Midwest U.S. motorcycle rides here.

We wandered through Calumet, a small town that was in the heart of Michigan’s copper mining industry. Its historic downtown has gift shops, galleries, coffee houses, saloons, and restaurants. We made our way to the Michigan House Cafe & Red Jacket Brewing Co., which is in the former Hotel Michigan that was opened by Bosch Brewing in 1905. Today, it’s a restaurant and brewpub, and the Oatmeal Express stout was the perfect choice for a fall evening.

The next morning, we availed ourselves of the AmericInn’s complimentary breakfast and trudged out to our frost‑covered bikes. We continued riding on U.S. 41 in a northeasterly direction to Phoenix, where we turned due north on M‑26, which curves its way along the Lake Superior shore, offering amazing views and passing through nature and wildlife sanctuaries.

Before the town of Copper Harbor, we turned on to Brockway Mountain Drive, which gradually climbs up and over an eroded volcanic prominence that rises 720 feet above Lake Superior’s waterline. At West Bluff, we stopped to admire an unbelievable vista of the big lake to the north and the fall‑colored forest to the south. 

We cruised back downhill to Copper Harbor, Michigan’s northernmost town, which overlooks its namesake port near the outer tip of the Keweenaw Peninsula. Surrounded by Lake Superior, its microclimate is cool in the summer and relatively mild in the winter. Copper Harbor has a fascinating history, and the town is a great base camp for exploring the peninsula or a launching point for trips to Grand Isle National Park.

After gassing up, we headed south on U.S. 41 and then Gay Lac La Belle Road to the Bete Grise Wetlands Preserve and the southern shore of the Keweenaw Peninsula. We stopped for lunch in Houghton, which is located on the Keweenaw Waterway that cuts across the peninsula and was once at the epicenter of the region’s copper industry.

We rode south on U.S. 41, which runs along the western shore of Portage Lake and then Keweenaw Bay to L’Anse, where we returned to the mainland of the U.P. We followed U.S. 41 east to Marquette, a Lake Superior port city known for shipping iron ore from the Marquette Iron Range. With a population of 20,000 and home to Northern Michigan University, Marquette is the largest city on the U.P. We pulled into the Hampton Inn Marquette/Waterfront, which lives up to its name with an amazing view of sailboats and other vessels carving up the bay. Being a lively college town, Marquette has numerous bars and restaurants to choose from. We had dinner at the historic Vierling Restaurant & Marquette Harbor Brewery, named after Martin Vierling, who built the building in 1883 and ran a “gentlemen’s saloon” at the location until Prohibition. Renovated and reopened in the 1980s, the establishment has a historic wooden bar with large windows overlooking the harbor. 

Firing up the bikes the next morning, we rode east on M‑28 to Munising and then on H‑58 for a few miles to Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. We rode up to Sand Point, which has nice views across the water to Grand Island, a national recreation area.

The road to Munising and Sand Point was good, but the winding curves of H‑58 rivaled some of the best roads we’ve ever ridden, with extensive twists and turns carved through the forest and along the Lake Superior shore. We continued east to M‑123 to visit Tahquamenon Falls State Park, which covers 50,000 acres. The Upper Falls is one of the largest waterfalls east of the Mississippi River and is about 200 feet across and drops 50 feet. The Lower Falls are a series of smaller falls cascading in many directions.

East of the park, we made our way up to Whitefish Point, which is known as the “Graveyard of the Great Lakes” and home of the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum. There have been 550 known shipwrecks in the area, and at least 200 of them are off Whitefish Point, including the famous SS Edmund Fitzgerald, which sank in 1975 and was memorialized in a popular song by Gordon Lightfoot.

We made our way to the southern side of the U.P. on the northern shore of Lake Michigan, where we spent the night in Manistique, a recreational mecca for boating, fishing, camping, and snowmobiling. In the morning, we rode south on the Garden Peninsula to Fayette State Park, which overlooks Big Bay De Noc and was home to one of the U.P.’s most productive iron‑smelting operations during the 19th century. When the iron market declined, the Jackson Iron Company shuttered its operation in 1891.

Our return route west on U.S. 2 took us to Iron Mountain, home of the Pine Mountain Ski Jump and the annual Continental Cup, one of the world’s best ski jumping events.

Next we wanted to check out an interesting phenomenon called the Paulding Light, a mysterious light that appears at the end of a deadend road in a valley located between the towns of Pauling and Watersmeet off U.S. Route 45. The light has been reported since the 1960s, and various legends claim the light is the result of paranormal activity, the ghost of either a railroad brakeman who died in a train collision, a murdered mail courier, or a Native American dancing on powerlines.

Craig and I arrived at the location at dusk and waited for the light. At first we saw nothing, and then…wait…what’s that? Sure enough, a faint light appeared off in the distance above the tree line. Off and on it went, so we decided to pursue this mystery for ourselves. We rode down a steep, sandy, rock‑strewn powerline road to a narrow, rickety bridge that crossed a creek. As I hit the partially rotted bridge, I thought, Pan Am, don’t fail me now! Charging up the hill on the other side, we attempted to find the source of the light but to no avail. In 2010, students at Michigan Tech said they solved the mystery, claiming the Paulding Light is caused by headlights on a faraway highway. I like the ghost stories better.

The next day, we returned home. It’s always bittersweet when a fun motorcycle trip comes to an end, but the great thing about exploring a new area is knowing we can always come back for more. Michigan’s Upper Peninsula offers seemingly endless opportunities for riding and recreation, with a rich vein of history that runs through the area like its deep deposits of copper and iron.

See all of Rider‘s motorcycle rides here.

Michigan Upper Peninsula Motorcycle Ride Resources

• Michigan Upper Peninsula Travel Association
• Western U.P.
• Michigan State Parks
• Lake Gogebic
• Porcupine Mountains/Ontonagon
• Keweenaw Peninsula
• Keweenaw National Historical Park
• AmericInn Calumet
• Copper Harbor
• Marquette
• Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore
• Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum

The post A Michigan Upper Peninsula Motorcycle Ride in Autumn appeared first on Rider Magazine.

If you’re looking for a golden adventure riding opportunity, the Black Hills BDR-X marks the spot. Backcountry Discovery Routes are adventure/dual‑­sport routes that typically cover entire states and take about a week to complete, with GPS tracks and helpful info provided for free by the nonprofit BDR organization. In addition to its main routes, BDR has mapped out several shorter BDR-­X loop routes that can be completed in a few days.

Scan QR code above or click here to view the route on REVER

Located in western South Dakota, the Black Hills area is known for its scenic beauty, curvy roads, and historic sites like Mount Rushmore and the Crazy Horse Memorial. When most motorcyclists think of the Black Hills, they think of the Sturgis rally, which brings upwards of 500,000 people to the region every August.

The Black Hills BDR-X is a 355‑­mile mostly off‑­road loop that starts and ends in Keystone, just a few miles east of Mount Rushmore, and is divided into three sections. Backcountry Discovery Routes recommends riding the Black Hills BDR-­X counterclockwise, but since it’s a loop, you can start and finish anywhere along the route and run it in either direction.

What makes the Black Hills BDR-X such a perfect adventure route is its variety. The landscape includes rugged mountains, dense forests, and wide‑­open prairies. The route passes through historic towns like Deadwood, Mystic, and Hill City, as well as public lands such as Wind Cave National Park and Custer State Park.

There are great campgrounds or more luxurious lodging available. You’re never far from civilization, so you can get away from it all yet still have access to gas stations, stores, restaurants, and hotels. The BDR-X route includes flowing gravel and dirt roads, challenging two‑­track, and some of the area’s best paved roads, including Spearfish Canyon Road, Needles Highway, and Iron Mountain Road.

Setting the Hook

Last July, I joined three of my CFMOTO USA colleagues – Reid Strait, Daniel Dégallier, and Bill Baker – at Get On ADV Fest, a four‑­day adventure‑­bike rally in the Black Hills where we introduced the Ibex 800 T adventure bike. There was plenty of off‑­road riding involved, and REVER provided excellent tracks for the event.

Related: 2023 CFMOTO Ibex 800 T | Road Test Review 

The riding was so good, we were inspired to return in September and be among the first to ride the new Black Hills BDR-­X. The stars aligned when we learned that Rally for Rangers, a nonprofit organization that raises funds to support park rangers, would be hosting an event in the Black Hills at the same time (see sidebar below). CFMOTO USA provided Ibex 800 Ts for the guides to use during the event, along with a Papio minibike for cruising around the campground.  

After we delivered the bikes to the event, we spent the next few days riding the Black Hills BDR-­X to do some team bonding. Reid rode an Ibex 800 T, but the rest of us rode our personal bikes: Bill on a KTM 690 Enduro R, Daniel on a Royal Enfield Himalayan, and me on a Kawasaki KLX 300.

Black Hills BDR-X: 4 Riders, 4 Bikes, 4 Days

We may have different tastes in bikes, but we all agree on one thing: The Black Hills BDR-X is fantastic. It’s 355 miles of adventure motorcycling bliss. In terms of difficulty, I’d rate it 4 or 5 on a scale of 1‑­10. (I’ve also ridden the Mid Atlantic BDR, which I’d rate an easy 2 or 3.) Every day of the BDR-­X was filled with moments of euphoria, which crystallized into memories that we’ll share around the campfire for years to come.

Related: Backcountry Discovery Routes Announces Economic Impact of BDR Routes

During one part of the ride, the sun overhead was radiant, casting a warm, autumn glow. The steady, gentle crunch of gravel under my tires never got old, nor did the scenery. Towering cliffs with rough textures contrasted with the vivid foliage below. The curves and bends unfurled before me, each one as breathtaking as the last. It was a sensory feast, as if Mother Nature took out her paintbrush, mixed up an impossibly diverse palette of rich colors, and painted a masterpiece. At higher elevations, the hills were ablaze in scarlet, amber, and gold, while it was a verdant wonderland down below. I was tempted to ride faster, but I slowed down, smelled the pines, and savored the experience.

Black Hills Gold

If you love off‑­road adventure riding, you’ll love the Black Hills BDR-X, which was like discovering a vein of gold. There’s gravel, rocky two‑­track, mud, and epic pavement. There’s majestic scenery, wildlife, and history. You can’t see and do it all in one trip, so like the four of us, you’ll want to come back. It’s fun but by no means a stroll in the park, and it’s the difficult stuff that sticks with you for a lifetime.

On Day 3, it was raining, and we opted to do the optional hard section over Bear Mountain. The route was rutted, rocky, steep two‑­track. The slick mud packed up on our tires, turning them into Teflon‑­coated slicks. Bill christened this spur route “Axle Grease Alley.” On the final bit, I chose my line and went for it, twisting the throttle to the stop, desperate for the tires to hook up, every muscle in my body fighting to keep me and the Kawasaki upright. After I made it to the top, Reid gave me a thumbs‑­up and said, “Brad, you looked like a flailing Kool‑­Aid man. Next time keep your feet on the pegs!”

Happily, we all made it through the toughest sections in one piece. Despite the struggle and the chaos, even with our bikes and bodies caked in mud, we were grinning from ear to ear. Daniel’s quick thinking led us to a car wash in Custer, where we pressure‑­washed our bikes and could again recognize which was which. Cost? A few quarters. Memories? Priceless.

Rally for Rangers Sidebar

The mission of Rally for Rangers is “to protect the world’s special places by empowering rangers around the world with new motorcycles and equipment.” It has provided more than 160 motorcycles and equipment for rangers in parks in distant places like Mongolia, Argentina, Nepal, Bhutan, Peru, and Namibia.

The first Rally for Rangers USA event took place last September in South Dakota’s Black Hills National Forest and Pine Ridge Reservation. Fifteen adventure riders raised nearly $40,000 before convening in Custer State Park for a weekend of camping, riding, visiting tribal park rangers, and donating equipment and funds to protect parks and forests.

Traditional Rally for Rangers events are two‑­week international journeys, but the USA rallies are held over a long weekend. The Black Hills event donated night vision optics for tribal rangers of the Oglala Sioux Parks to conduct nighttime anti‑­poaching patrols. A donation was also made to the Forest Service motorized trails program to support motorcycle‑­only trails in the Black Hills National Forest.

Riders in this inaugural event hailed from all over the U.S., with some trailering their bikes and others renting from Rogue Moto or using demo bikes provided by CFMOTO. The weekend included off‑­road training by Heavy Enduro as well as on- and off‑­road riding on Needles Highway, portions of the Black Hills BDR‑­X, and otherwise inaccessible trails on the Pine Ridge Reservation hosted by the Oglala Sioux rangers.

The Black Hills Rally for Rangers event takes place again in September 2024 to support Oglala Sioux and Northern Cheyenne tribal rangers. For more information, visit the Rally For Rangers website or listen to our interview with Rally for Rangers co‑­founder Tom Medema on the Rider Magazine Insider Podcast.

Black Hills BDR-X Resources:

• South Dakota Tourism
• Black Hills & Badlands
• Backcountry Discovery Routes

The post Riding South Dakota’s Black Hills BDR-X appeared first on Rider Magazine.

West of Gunnison, Colorodo, U.S. Route 50 was closed. We’d seen signs about the closure for at least 100 miles. Those signs were for other people, right? We’d planned to stay on the famous Colorado byway through the Grand Mesa, Uncompahgre and Gunnison National Forests as long as we could. But as we approached Gunnison, our shoulders slumped with the reality that the signs were for us. We’d have to rethink our whole route. And the weather was starting to look iffy.

Scan QR code above or click here to view the route on REVER

At the Gunnison County Chamber of Commerce, a note taped to the door underscored the closure. We went inside, paper roadmap in hand. At the desk, the clerk proffered her own map, opening it in front of us. She and John pored over it like kids seeking clues to lost treasure.

She confirmed that U.S. 50 was closed and suggested State Route 149 instead. It had less traffic and was more beautiful, she assured us. We compared her map to the Butler map for the region. (Butler Motorcycle Maps highlight the best roads, rating them on twisties, traffic, road surface, etc.) SR‑­149 was G1 (gold), Butler’s highest rating – perfect!

After filling our water bottles, we headed to the gas station. SR‑­149 is quite rural, so we wanted to be prepared. As John filled our tanks and I surveyed the darkening skies, a bolt of lightning ripped through the clouds. Thunder crackled. A guy next to us gassing up his pickup was watching too.

“Hope you’re not going that way,” he said, nodding toward the storm.

“Not anymore,” I said.

We paid for our gas as the storm clouds gathered closer and closer. Thunder rumbled, and lightning struck from cloud to ground in the near distance. We sped back to the park next to the Chamber and ran for the cover of a gazebo. Just as we stepped under, buckets of rain dumped from the sky, and lightning dashed all around us. The thunder was so loud that we ducked our heads each time it clapped.

Celebrating our excellent timing, we stretched out to nap on top of the picnic tables just as two vans arrived and disgorged two dozen kids. It was the local mountain‑­biking camp escaping the weather. We were instantly surrounded by kids eating popsicles and playing a raucous game of tag. Now each thunderclap was accompanied by the ear‑­piercing screams of prepubescent mountain bikers. One of the camp counselors checked in on our welfare, asked about the bikes, and offered popsicles, which we accepted.

The lightning eventually abated, though the rain drizzled on. The camp counselors packed their charges and drove away. We wrestled into rainsuits and got back on the road.

Related: C. Jane Taylor | Ep. 45 Rider Magazine Insider Podcast

SR‑­149 was as wonderful as described: a narrow, almost abandoned two‑­lane road snaking seductively through the San Juan Mountains and the Rio Grande National Forest. The weather was cold and drizzling, but the road was curvy, and the air smelled like earth and springtime in New England. We were in motorcycle heaven.

Ten miles down the road, oncoming cars flashed their headlights, gesturing to slow down. Thinking they were trying to warn us about a cop, I laughed. It had taken me five years to get up to the speed limit. We continued with caution until a mudslide stopped us in our tracks. If we hadn’t been wearing helmets, we would have scratched our heads in a “Now what?” gesture. Like U.S. 50, it seemed SR‑­149 would soon be closed too, but we gingerly traversed the shallow edge of the slide at the far‑­left side of the road. Alert to the changes in road surface and rambunctious streams in the gullies flanking the road, we pushed forward like children anticipating candy at Halloween.

Instead of candy, we sought groceries as we rolled into Lake City and its tiny country store whose proprietors seemed to be a badly mismatched couple. The woman in long braids glared at us as if we’d tracked mud onto her freshly mopped floor, while the man – handsome in a Willie Nelson kind of way, if Willie Nelson could be considered handsome – happily greeted us, teasing about our florescent green rainsuits. “We are not men, we are Devo,” he joked in a robotic voice referencing the ’70s New Wave band famous for their quirky spaceman costumes. We bought vegetables, tortillas, and cheese for quesadillas we would cook once we found a campsite for the night.

Lake City is an eye‑­blink of an old mining town with the down‑­at‑­heel aspect of a climate-change ski resort in shoulder season. The cold, damp weather did not bring any charm to the Grizzly Adams cabins lining the road.

I attributed the town’s creepiness to its horror‑­movie sepia tones and bad weather, but I later learned that Lake City gained notoriety in 1875 when Alferd Packer, the “Colorado Cannibal,” was charged with killing and eating the prospectors he’d been hired to guide through the San Juan Mountains after the group had become snowbound. In the spring, five bodies with human teeth marks were found at the foot of Slumgullion Pass. Lake City’s Hinsdale County Museum has an extensive collection of Packer memorabilia, including a skull fragment from one of his victims and several buttons from the clothes of the five men he ate. The area where the bodies were discovered is now known as Cannibal Plateau. Odder still, the area hosts an annual Alferd Packer Jeep Tour and Barbecue.

My unease was supplanted by the fear and exhilaration of climbing out of town along steep, wet switchbacks to Windy Point Observation Site and Slumgullion Pass. As we climbed, I chimed into the headset, “Don’t look right, Johnny.” The narrow two‑­lane highway had no guardrail, and the drop-off induced a vertigo that made me tighten my grip on my handlebar and tank. At Windy Point, we stopped to look back at the long narrow valley thousands of feet below us.

Evening was approaching, and we were still in the middle of a sheer climb on our way to North Clear Creek Campground, a destination we were not sure even existed, but the sky finally opened, and the tight switchbacks loosened as we topped 11,530‑­foot Slumgullion Pass.

The map we consulted – and re‑­consulted – showed the campground within 50 miles. Trying to keep from being swept up in the National Geographic beauty of the broadening landscape, I kept my eyes peeled for a Forest Service campground sign. We were hungry and cold, and it was getting late. We’d passed so little traffic, I was game to pitch the tent at the side of the road, but John persisted.

We finally turned off SR‑­149 and crossed a cattle guard onto Forest Road 510, which fell away to vertiginous Class‑­IV switchbacks. I groaned but also laughed. It was the “dropping hour.” We have a joke that on extended motorcycle trips, we often face the most challenging miles of the day right before arriving at our destination exhausted and hungry. The road toyed with us. I inched down its sharp gravel turns, determined but cautious given the hour. As I eased down one hill, a young woman on a dirtbike blasted up it. Encouraged that there might be an actual campground ahead and inspired by another woman on a bike, I sped all the way up to 2nd gear!

After almost missing the 70‑­degree turn into the campground at the bottom of the hill and duck‑­walking the bikes back over sandy gravel ruts, we casually rolled into the nearly vacant campground and found a suitable spot with a picnic table, breathtaking panoramic views, and a glorious sunset reflected off the peaks of the Rio Grande National Forest.

The next morning was cold and clear. With visions of coffee and pastries dancing in our helmets, we headed toward Creede, home to an underground mining museum, the Mineral County Landfill, a cemetery, a chapel, and an excellent little food truck/coffee shop that appeared to be set up during the pandemic like a one‑­way street, with one entrance and one exit. The pastry case was filled with buttery French confections, the air with the scent of espresso. Bon appétit! We took our pastries to a table outside where we lounged, sipping cappuccinos in the sun.

The road along the Rio Grande – which far downstream serves as the border between Texas and Mexico – was as good as the croissants. At South Fork, we headed south on U.S. Route 160 and climbed to 10,856‑­foot Wolf Creek Pass. It was cold at elevation, and we encountered traffic and threatening weather, but the road was smooth, wide, and curvy through Pagosa Springs and Chimney Rock. We lunched in Durango after a torrential downpour trapped us under a busy highway underpass.

U.S. 160 through the mountains near Hesperus Ski Area was fabulous despite the cold and wet. Things got warmer as we descended out of the mountains, and by the time we got to Mancos, we were sweltering in the heat of the desert. We took off as much as we could and poured cold water down the backs of our armored jackets. Body temperature management was a challenge we had improved at over time.

In the blazing heat, we headed west on State Route 184 toward Dolores, then north on U.S. Route 491 past Yellow Jacket and into Canyons of the Ancients National Monument, administered by the Bureau of Land Management and inhabited almost solely by spirits. The road narrowed and then narrowed again. There is something gritty and fundamental about these small roads, something secret and unspoken like the second indents of an outline of one’s life or the dark side of the moon.

The heat kept building. As we crossed into Utah, the landscape gave way to a barren, flat emptiness without trees or buildings. We traveled in silent awe, feeling exposed in the heat but excited about the ruins of Hovenweep National Monument.

Known for six groups of Ancestral Puebloan villages, Hovenweep contains evidence of occupation by hunter‑­gatherers from 8,000 B.C. until AD 200. We were finally going to visit the spirits we’d been sensing on this hot road.

We turned into what seemed the middle of nowhere, but John assured me this was the way. I saw only shrubs, grasses, and sage until I glimpsed a sign the size of a sheet of paper with an arrow proving him right: Hovenweep National Monument. We traversed a lunar landscape of sand, craters, dead volcanoes, and lava flows until we happened upon a herd of wild horses in the middle of the road. We stopped to gape. Shy and beautiful, they paused in their grazing to examine us. Though I wanted to join these beasts on a romanticized journey out of a dream, we had to keep moving. Standing still in the late afternoon heat was a torture neither of us wanted to endure – magical, wild horses notwithstanding.

Reminiscent of Death Valley with its lethal sun, long straightaways, and distant bluffs, Hovenweep Road also reminded me of the song by America “A Horse with No Name.” I started to understand the line “In the desert, you can’t remember your name.” In the heat and arid sameness of the landscape, time seemed to stop. I could tell we were moving, if only for the visual cue of the scenery receding in my mirror. I became flooded with the eerie sensation of being watched. It felt as if the ghosts of millennia were hovering just above the heat waves upwelling from the macadam.

“Hovenweep” is a Paiute/Ute word meaning “deserted valley.” As we rode into the scorched campground, I sensed that the ancestors were still there. A clan of attentive ravens seemed to be protectors – or just eager to see what food they could liberate from us.

After pouring rationed water onto our heads and down our backs, we hiked off to see the ruins, following a faint path between rock walls leading to a dry creek bed. Walking fast to beat the setting sun, we climbed down into the creek bed then up the other side until we saw what looked like a crumbling brick silo. Hovenweep at last! As we gazed in silence at the majestic ruins of a once‑­lively community, a rainbow broke through distant storm clouds. Back at our campsite, we cooked dinner in the waning light as a million stars began to wink.

See all of Rider‘s touring stories here.

The post Riding From Gunnison, Colorado, to Hovenweep National Monument appeared first on Rider Magazine.

As I sat in the fantastic Belly Up Aspen concert venue in Colorado listening to a great performance by The Wallflowers, I did not imagine that “belly up” was a condition I was going to have to actively avoid the next day. You see, the following morning I was going to ride Independence Pass, one of my favorite stretches of pavement in the Southwest that I had taken some months previous in the fall.

That night in Aspen, Wallflowers front man Jakob Dylan was on top of his vocal game and filled the intimate venue with all of his best work. Ironically, the band’s song Angel on my Bike chronicles salvation from either a real or figurative motorcycle crash. Turns out I was going to need that angel on my pillion seat.

The crisp Colorado mountain air had me zipping up my jacket vents as I started the ascent out of Aspen. The early ride was just what I had hoped for. Smooth pavement traced through the evergreens, and traffic was light. I quickly fell into that perfect groove as I slalomed up toward the pass.

See all of Rider‘s Colorado touring stories here.

I was only a handful of miles into the climb when I got the first hint that this would not be a normal ride. Just after a blind curve, a mother moose and her offspring bounded in front of me. The mother was quick and agile as she leapt to safety. The little one was confused and halting, and I was forced into an abrupt evasive swerve. As my heart settled, the two disappeared into the forested depths.

As I continued my climb, that smooth blacktop transformed into recently applied chipseal. The tar-coated gravel began the telltale cacophony of sounds as it flung from my tires onto my fenders and bodywork – a far cry from the melodic offerings of The Wallflowers the night before. I cut my speed in half and made the requisite adjustments to my cornering technique.

I rode up to one of the two stop lights on the pass that control traffic in the one-lane Narrows sections of Independence Pass. The light was just changing to red, and I slowed to a stop in anticipation of the oncoming traffic taking its turn in the Narrows. In my mirrors, I saw an SUV barreling toward me. I was already planning my escape maneuver in what little room I had on the side of the road. Without any slowing, the Range Rover barreled into the oncoming lane and passed me, pelting me with gravel as he ran the red light and endangered me and all of the potential oncoming traffic. Close call No. 2, plus challenging riding conditions.

After continuing on when the light turned green, I came upon the crew applying the chipseal. At this point, the road became even more challenging as the surface was newly applied. One lane was gravel and the other was fresh tar. The combination of this variable surface with the twisty, guardrail-less pass made for tricky riding. Accelerating, braking, and turning all had to be muted and modulated. The road remained like this all the way to the 12,000-foot apex of the pass.

After stopping for the views – and the bathroom – at the top, I started the descent on the other side of the pass on established pavement with actual markings and no gravel or fresh tar. It was not, however, the end of the challenge.

It became clear that the prior winter had taken a toll on the pass, which had been much more intact only months before in the fall. While not as challenging as the way up, the frayed and crumbling margins of the tarmac and the potholes made the descent worthy of extreme vigilance.

In the end, I made it unscathed (other than tar on my boots and a few chips on my BMW bodywork). I did not end up belly up, maybe due in part to an angel on my bike. Now that I’m on the other side of this particular Colorado motorcycle trip, I highly recommend catching a concert at Belly Up Aspen, attending a show by The Wallflowers wherever they might be playing, and avoiding assumptions about a favorite road based on the last time you rode it.

See all of Rider‘s touring stories here.

The post Angel on My Bike: A Colorado Motorcycle Trip appeared first on Rider Magazine.

It’s always fun to have a theme for a motorcycle tour, and my plan for a late August ride was a four-day loop from my home in Oklahoma to visit three historic hotels that are widely purported to be haunted. The first would be the St. James Hotel in Cimarron, New Mexico, followed by the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado, and finally the Eldridge Hotel in Lawrence, Kansas. Between the fright nights, I’d ride first-class mountain roads on a nearly 1,900-mile route through five states.

Scan QR code above or click here to view the route on REVER

One Hot Motorcycle Tour with a Side of Wind

To make time, I rode west on Interstate 40 for the first 150 miles or so. Wind turbines were spinning at a good clip, and flags at roadside businesses whipped around in the hot wind. I rode in what my buddies and I call “the I-40 lean” – riding with the bike pitched a few degrees to the left to counteract the constant gale.

It was nearly 100 degrees when I crossed into the panhandle of Texas, and the empty landscape was dotted with cattle and oil wells. When I stopped in Dalhart to refuel, a guy with long hair and a shaggy beard pulling two Harleys on a trailer behind a pickup asked where I was heading. After I shared my plan, he said he was heading home after riding many of the same roads.

Eyeing my Suzuki V-Strom 1050XT, he said he still owns a KTM he bought back in the ’90s when he was in Germany. “I spent three years there myself,” I said, “when I was in the Army.” Turns out we were stationed in some of the same places, decades ago, on the other side of the world. And here we were, on a sweltering afternoon in small-town Texas, talking motorcycles and swapping memories.

St. James Hotel

The temperature subsided a bit after crossing into New Mexico, where I rode through high plains grassland. North of Springer, I continued west on State Route 58, climbing into the foothills of the Rockies. Once in Cimarron, I parked in front of the St. James Hotel. Walking into the lobby felt like going back in time to the Old West of the late 1800s.

Built in 1872 near the Santa Fe Trail and originally known as Lambert’s Inn, this hotel was a favorite of Old West legends such as Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, Buffalo Bill Cody, Annie Oakley, Jesse James, and Billy the Kid.

During the lawless days of the Wild West, the hotel was the site of at least 26 murders; bullet holes are still visible over the bar in the hotel’s main dining room. Today, the St. James has 12 restored rooms in the original building, each named for a famous guest who stayed in the room, and 10 more rooms in a modern annex.

Several ghosts have been identified by paranormal experts in the St. James. Room 18 is off-limits because it is believed to house the malevolent ghost of Thomas James Wright, who was murdered after he won rights to the hotel in a poker game. The spirit of Mary Elizabeth Lambert, wife of the hotel’s founder, is said to be a protector of the hotel. She died there in 1926, and some say her rose-scented perfume still wafts through the hallways. There have been reports of a persistent tapping sound in Room 17, the mysterious smell of cigar smoke even though the hotel is nonsmoking, and sightings of a mischievous ghost resembling a little old man, nicknamed the “Little Imp,” who supposedly steals and relocates objects.

I stayed in the Pancho Griego room in the old building. Griego, a card dealer and local enforcer, picked a fight in the hotel’s saloon with gunslinger Clay Allison over the killing of Griego’s nephew. Unfortunately for Griego, he was a little (or a lot) drunk and took a bullet to the head from Allison’s gun. Would Griego’s restless spirit pay me a visit?  

After a nice dinner in the hotel restaurant, I turned in. I’ve stayed in supposedly haunted hotels all over the country going back at least 20 years, and I’ve never had a paranormal experience. But at the St. James, I was awakened at 3 a.m. – the so-called “witching hour” when the spirit world is said to be most active – by an unidentifiable foul odor that defied explanation (no, it wasn’t me).

A Motorcycle Tour on the Enchanted Circle

Continuing west on U.S. Route 64, I enjoyed flowing curves and yellow wildflowers as I rode through Cimarron Canyon State Park. Climbing out of the canyon revealed Eagle Nest Lake, an alpine lake above 8,000 feet near the Enchanted Circle Scenic Byway.

Turning north on State Route 38, I followed the byway toward the ski town of Red River. I knew this stretch of highway from many ski trips there with my wife and kids. The road meanders through the mountains, winding its way up to 9,820-foot Bobcat Pass and into Carson National Forest. Memories of those family trips rushed back – the cabins we stayed in, our favorite ski lifts and runs, the restaurants we liked, and the fun we had.

Crossing into Colorado, I rode over 9,426-foot La Veta Pass on U.S. Route 160 and then up through Colorado Springs and Denver. At Loveland, I turned west on U.S. Route 34 and enjoyed a winding ride through Big Thompson Canyon and Roosevelt National Forest to Estes Park.

See all of Rider‘s South Central U.S. tour stories here.

Stanley Hotel

After a 400-mile day, I arrived at the Stanley Hotel, which sits on a sprawling property with views of the city that serves as the gateway to Rocky Mountain National Park. When it opened in 1909, it rivaled the finest hotels in America. It was established by Freelan Stanley, who, along with twin brother Francis, co-founded the Stanley Motor Carriage Company, which manufactured steam-powered automobiles from 1897-1924. Freelan fell in love with the Estes Valley, in part because he believed the area helped restore his previously failing health. Early hotel guests were impressed by features such as electric lights, telephones, modern bathrooms, a uniformed staff, and a fleet of Stanley Steamers.

By the 1970s, the hotel was struggling but got a shot in the arm when it became known as the inspiration for Stephen King’s bestseller The Shining. The book may be fiction, but there are plenty of real-life ghost stories swirling around the Stanley.

After checking in, I took the vintage Otis elevator to my fourth-floor room, which was hot as hell – fitting. The front desk dispatched a service technician, and as he worked on the air conditioner, I quizzed him about the hotel’s ghostly reputation.

“Is there anything to the ghost stuff?”

“Yep, they’re here,” he said. “I had my first experience after I’d been here a few months – tapped me right on the shoulder, but there was nobody there.”

“Interesting…” I replied, feeling a little chill down my spine.

At twilight, I walked out front to admire the Stanley’s beautiful facade against the darkening sky and visit the mildly creepy hedge maze, disappointed that a frozen Jack Nicholson was nowhere to be found. Back inside, I peeked in the séance room. The place certainly looked haunted.

Although Stephen King’s frightful night was in Room 217, the fourth floor where I was staying is thought to be the most haunted part of the hotel. Guests in Room 407 have reported being tucked into bed by an invisible force, and the apparition of a cowboy has been reported in Room 428. But Room 401 is the creepiest – female guests have reported inappropriate “touching” by what is thought to be an unfriendly male ghost. After my unsettling experience at the St. James, learning about the paranormal activity that has occurred just down the hall from my room had my eyes wide open as I turned off the bedside lamp.

However, after a restful sleep undisturbed by the spirit world, I packed up and headed south on the Peak-to-Peak Scenic Byway, a beautiful, curvy mountain road that reminded me why I’m a motorcyclist. Thinking it couldn’t get any better, I was proven wrong on State Route 119 toward Boulder, which follows a burbling stream with high rock cliffs on both sides for 16 glorious miles.

The fun soon came to an end, and I steeled myself for a long, hot slog on Interstate 70 into Kansas. It was well after dark and I had clocked 652 miles for the day when I arrived in Lawrence for the last stop on my ghost tour.

Eldridge Hotel

Originally built in 1855 under the name Free State Hotel, the Eldridge Hotel was burned down twice because of its role as a focal point of anti-slavery sentiment. Each time it was burned, the hotel’s founder, Col. Shalor Eldridge, rebuilt it at the same site. In 1867, it was renamed the Eldridge Hotel, and through the turn of the 20th century, it was considered one of the finest hotels west of the Mississippi River.

The Eldridge Hotel also has a long history of paranormal activity. The fifth floor is thought to have a direct connection to the spirit world, with Room 506 at the epicenter. Guests have reported seeing apparitions, breath marks on mirrors, doors opening and closing by themselves, and lights mysteriously turning themselves on and off. The elevator is said to have its own ghost who erratically opens and closes the elevator doors.

I checked into Room 305, which is spacious with modern amenities, and got cleaned up. Later, I wandered downstairs and explored the lobby, bar, and basement. The Eldridge is a beautiful old hotel, and I felt the weight of its history. With that history in mind – some of it painful – I can see how the energy of the past may still be imprinted on this place.

I once again slept peacefully in the comfy bed and woke up early, anxious to get on the road home. The only possible evidence of mischievous spirits was that my television was stuck on the Hallmark Murders & Mysteries channel.

Some of the roads and stops on my Old West motorcycle tour could certainly be considered supernatural, but did the experience make a believer out of me? Until I can find a logical explanation for what happened to me at the St. James Hotel, the jury is out.

See all of Rider‘s touring stories here.

The post An Old West Motorcycle Tour to 3 Haunted Hotels appeared first on Rider Magazine.

This Favorite Ride doesn’t include a route map because it’s all about a single destination: the corner of 300 Road and 600 Street in Moonshine, Illinois. Getting there is a personal experience for every rider who makes the Moonshine Lunch Run.

You may recall the story I wrote about the last official Moonshine Lunch Run, which took place on April 29, 2018. But on that day, as I gathered with other long‑­distance riders outside the Moonshine Store, munching my Moonburger under a cool Illinois rain, I sensed it wasn’t the end.

Related: Reflections on the Moonshine Lunch Run

The original concept for the MLR, conceived by our late farmer friend Terry Hammond, just required folks to ride from somewhere far. Terry knew certain people would make the long, often difficult ride to Moonshine to connect with other riders who’d do the same. The hamburgers were great, but the fellowship of long‑­distance riders mattered most.

Earlier this year, Bob Cust of Swansea, Illinois, announced he was hosting an RTE (ride-to-­eat) at the Moonshine Store. I shared this with Steve Efthyvoulou, who first brought me to Moonshine in 2010. “I’m in,” he said immediately. We reached out to other MLR alums, including Michael Boucher and Randy Bridgewater, plus newbie Chuck Smolka. All in.

Folks who’ve done a ride to Moonshine understand its special challenges of long distance, changeable weather, and physical endurance. For me, Moonshine has been the eventual destination of multiple April rides that had me leaving Massachusetts and then joining friends to carve mountain roads in Pennsylvania, Virginia, West Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, or Kentucky on the way to southeastern Illinois. Moonshine was a waypoint on some trips to more distant riding regions, like the Ozark Mountains of Missouri and Arkansas, and I earned my Iron Butt certification on the Curt Gran Memorial Moonshine 1000.

If you want a genuine Moonshine Lunch Run experience, you really need to ride there during April, when Terry Hammond invited folks to come. The temperature could plunge below freezing, but it might also reach 90. You can count on rain, and snow is possible. It’s also tornado season; one year, a twister touched down a few miles from our motel. The sun might even shine!

Last April, my ninth run to Moonshine was on backroads through the Connecticut Berkshires and New York’s Hudson Valley, over the hills of northern New Jersey, across Pennsylvania’s northern tier, and then onto the increasingly flat, open spaces of rural Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois.

Yes, more people visit southeastern Illinois for summer activities. The fairgrounds in DuQuoin host a race in the American Flat Track motorcycle racing series. The Illinois 300 NASCAR Cup race takes place in Madison. There are celebrations for German heritage in Waterloo and Hoyleton, Swiss heritage in Highland, and roots music and barbeque in Mt. Carmel. There are sailing events, a world trapshooting championship, art fairs, music festivals, county fairs, and much more.

Since I’ve always ridden to Illinois in April, I haven’t experienced summertime there. But I’ve enjoyed visiting the town of Casey, some 14 miles from Moonshine and home of the world’s largest mailbox, pencil, pitchfork, wind chimes, rocking chair, golf tee, and other oversized curiosities. Since my last visit, someone added the world’s largest antlers. Every MLR has brought me to Casey, and getting there always involves varying degrees of challenge. Other riders who made it overcame their own challenges. As Terry would say, we “get it.”

Since the MLR is no longer an official event, there weren’t 1,000‑­plus riders like before. This time there were a few dozen, with the largest contingent being members of the Motorcycle Tourer’s Forum. But as I’ve come to expect, the effort to get there – and to connect with other riders who did the same – was well-rewarded.

I ran into Mike Brown of Harrisburg, North Carolina, whom I’d seen at multiple MLRs. “If you have been there, you want to go back,” he said. “If you haven’t been there, you need to go!” Mike brought along a first‑­timer, Bob Sweet of Concord, North Carolina. Unlike most riders who come on touring bikes, Bob made his first ride to Moonshine on a naked bike, his 2021 Triumph Street Triple 765 R.

“When we left Harrisburg at 4 a.m., it was dark and drizzly,” Bob told me. “I couldn’t tell Mike ‘I can’t do this.’ I got over the mental barrier, and here I am.” Bob gets it!

I met Darryl Halbert, who has been to every MLR since 2011, though somehow our paths never crossed. He used to live in Atlanta, Georgia, and his ride to Moonshine would include entertaining curves through the Appalachian Mountains. He’s retired now and living in Denver, Colorado, so he rode to Moonshine across the plains. “There’s a lot of Kansas between here and Colorado,” he chuckled.

I also met Greg Rice, a genuine legend in the long‑­distance rider community, who told me about another “lunch run” he had made. As the Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, resident recalled, “I wanted to take a picture of my bike by the Panama Canal.” So Greg rode to Panama. He got the picture and had a burger for lunch. His round trip took 10 days.

Related podcast interviews

• Greg Rice: Ep. 29 Rider Magazine Insider Podcast
• Scott A. Williams | Ep. 41 Rider Magazine Insider Podcast

Significantly, some MLR traditions carried on this year, like dinner at Richard’s Farm on Friday evening and Renee Handelman’s cinnamon buns on Saturday morning. I enjoyed my Moonburger with cheese and bacon at a picnic table beside the Moonshine Store with other riders, and it was good. Soon after, my group began our rides home to Texas, Michigan, New Jersey, Connecticut, and Massachusetts.

Riding east together, Steve and I endured the wettest day in our combined Moonshine history. Over dinner in a warm, dry restaurant, we laughed about it. Adventure is just discomfort retold at leisure, and we’ve had our share of adventure on our runs to Moonshine. Bone-chilling cold. Scorching heat. Nasty storms. Roads that became rock-strewn goat paths despite maps promising otherwise.

Was this year’s Moonshine Lunch Run just like old times? Not exactly. But it was today’s version of good times, shared with other long-distance riders who get it. I expect Terry would be good with that.

See all of Rider‘s touring stories here.

The post The Return of the Moonshine Lunch Run | Favorite Ride appeared first on Rider Magazine.