Deja Vu

By Bill Kesinger

In 1967 my young Son threw a leg over his brand new “Big Bear” and roared out of Ohio to visit friends in Utah and cousins in Northern Idaho. He had pulled the baffles out of the exhaust so they could hear him coming. It is amazing what 250cc’s would do in those days. The first part of his trip was successful, however, in Idaho he ended a deer’s tranquil life. He came home on a plane, the bike on a truck. Both eventually healed.

Thirty eight years later the old man straddled his 20 year old Beemer and wobbled to the first stop sign. He was leaving Utah for Ohio. This would be his longest trip to date. Oh, he had been around a little, had covered most of the western states and had his 100,000 mile ata boy from BMW. Had even ridden to San Antonio and back. Being a slow learner, a few years later he did it again! Was he trying to relive his son’s adventure from long ago, or was he just proving to himself that he still had what it takes?

The bike was loaded. Saddle bags and tank back stuffed, plus all the camping gear. The bike felt top heavy and I wondered how I had managed with even more stuff, and “her” on the back. But she is gone now and I’m by myself. It’s a nice crisp July morning and I stop about 20 miles down the road and meet up with Claude. One more stop at the dealers to pick up a box of parts for Doug and we are off for Paonia. We have breakfast at the “Old Cowboy Café”, then over the hill to Glenwood Springs. We hit a shower or two, which was welcome after the heat of the last couple hours. Arrived in Paonia and had camp set up well before dark. What more can be said about Paonia except three days of fun and relaxation.

Black Canyon

By 9 AM Sunday morning we were packed up, fed and on our way heading south to join highway 50. First stop was the overlook of the Black Canyon of the Gunnison. One time while here one of the guys said “hey look up there”. Behind us at the top of the cut earth, at the base of a tree a doe laid chewing her cud and watching the steady stream of body’s all looking the other way.

Gunnison

Once after gassing up and heading west from here we encountered a torrential downpour. We made a 180º turn and went back to a park that had an open sided pavilion and rode right in and stood around in the dry for about 45 minutes. After the storm passed we went on our way. No one complained and we were thankful to be dry.

Monarch Pass

The last time over Monarch Pass we ran into five inches of new snow. Or was it only four? At any rate I set a record of holding my breath that day. Just after cresting the summit we met a sanding truck coming up. The look on the drivers face was almost worth it! A sheriff followed us all the way down the hill. I’m sure he thought he was going to have to rescue some stupid motorcyclists.

After the fuel stop in Pueblo we hit the flatlands with heat and a nasty wind from the south. When I saw the pickup camper shell in the median it confirmed it. The road was straight, level and long. Then we passed a sign that said

Lamar

In the early days of my flying career, I was told to take the Gooney to Dayton and pick up a load. Some guys loaded a whole bunch of canvas and then said “take us to Lamar, Colorado”. After getting there they loaded the canvas in a rented pickup, took it out to the grassy flat land and laid all it out. Each piece was about 20 feet square and a different, bright color, and covering about an acre. Then they stood around for about 30 minutes looking at their watches then picking it all up. They did this three days in a row then went back to Dayton. They were very secretive and it is still one of life’s great mysteries.

That evening, hot and beat, we took the first motel we saw in Garden City. It was expensive, but a half hour in the pool almost made it worth it. The next day was a little cooler and actually had a little welcome rain. Once during one of the more vigorous showers, we stopped at a little store and visited with some road crew also sitting under a roof. They were very helpful, gave us a map and told Claude where to find a shop that might have a tire that would fit his bike. After new front rubber, we headed for Kansas City!

Once upon a time the Company told me to go to Kansas City and pick up a plane that had maintenance done on it. I arrived and wandering around the terminal found the rest of my crew. “Where is the plane?” They didn’t know. So I called the company. “This is Kesinger. Where is the plane?” It’s in Kansas City. Yes, I’m also in Kansas City. Where is the plane? Well, it’s in Kansas City, don’t you see it? No, this airport is about two miles long and I’m standing at this big window and I don’t see it. Who did the work on it? (long pause), I think TWA worked on it, check with them. We ended up riding around the airport in the security/police pickup peeking in hangars. We finally found it. Makes you wonder how some businesses last as long as they do.

The round-about around Kansas City was about the longest I’ve ever been on. I was beginning to think we had surly missed our turn off and was getting close to Chicago when we finally got to it. A few miles east and in a small town, found lodging much more reasonable than the previous night.

The next morning we were on the road at 7AM. Many, many small towns and another long round-about at Indianapolis. Then another town called Anderson. Used to stop here in the middle of the night and pick up thousands of lights for the auto assembly lines. If I remember right the name was “Guide”.

I missed the turn off here and caused a little detour, but was soon headed east again. Just about dusk Claude and I split. He headed for Lima and I for Marysville, a little farther east. At Urbana it was dark and I would have taken a motel had I seen one. Marysville 24 miles the sign said. Then at the intersection of highway 4 - Marysville 8 miles. I think I’m going to make it. I rang the doorbell at 10:30 PM, one pooped guy! 750 miles might not be much for the Iron Butt guys, but for me it was enough. Friends and food were never better