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Embarking on an Ill Advised Trip
Friday, March 11, 2005 Day Twelve After breakfast, and packing things up, the first order of business was to clean up the old horse. My bike had 3,000 miles worth of road grime on it. There are those who say to wear your road grime with pride at Bike Week. It shows that you rode there rather than trailered the bike. That wasn't for me. I like how it looks clean, so I took it to a local pressure wand car wash for a good cleaning.
What followed was a torturous five hour ordeal getting to St. Augustine Beach where I had reserved a room for the next three days. I-4 was a nighmarish stop and go snarl of traffic due to an horrific accident. Just as the traffic came to a near standstill, I stopped to help a biker with a stricken Harley. It was amazing to see how many people were willing to provide help. We got one person with jumper cables to stop and help. We got his machine started, but clearly, the charging system was not working. A group of about 8 of us wrestled his bike into the back of a pickup truck, and he was given a ride to Daytona Beach Harley-Davidson. During a gas stop in Palm Coast, my favorite leather driving gloves simply disappeared. The best that I could figure was the stiff wind that was blowing simply blew them away when I turned my back. I-95 was no better, so by the time we got settled into the hotel room, it was after dark, and our chances of actually making it to Daytona Beach on Friday were pretty slim. We headed south on A1A along the coast. It was getting cold, and we decided to stop at a little biker bar along the way.
We had planned on only hangin' here for long enough to have a beer, warm up, and move on. By the time we had finished that beer, we were having such a good time, that we stayed until closing. Jaci started doing shots of vodka and getting pretty frisky.
Of course, it always helps when the bar is tended by a fetching barmaid.
She was a bit reluctant to give me a good flash, especially because her boyfriend was there, but Jaci talked her into at least a partial flash.
Other chicks were not so reluctant.
So the night went, with Jaci getting pretty much hammered, as was her plan, and me pretty much strapping her to the back of the bike so that she wouldn't fall off, (just kidding.) Once we got back to our room, we were really glad that we had not made it all the way to Daytona. At 2 AM, it was damned cold. Iron Boot Pub was about one third of the way to Daytona, and with it that cold and that late, it was plenty long of a ride. Here's a photo gallery of Day 12 |
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