Rather than going on and on about more boring running or my awesome ‘racing’ exploits, I thought I’d take a minute to introduce the reason I’ve entered the Australian Property Centre rally, my friend Dan.

I met Dan back in 2003 at a stop sign in California. Way back in those days, the days before Facebook and blogs and everything like that, I used to write journals of the rides I took, mostly because the 2003 version of Frenchy must have realized that the 2012 version of Frenchy wouldn’t be able to remember breakfast, let alone epic adventures from nearly a decade ago. I dug through the recesses of my hard drive, and finally came up with the journal I wrote of that fateful meeting.

This story is oddly prescient, because it was written long before I’d met Fiona and become an adopted resident of California.

Here it that journal, in all its unedited, yawn-inspiring glory:

June 1, 2003 – I headed out to the WWE show in San Diego, and by some great comedy of errors, the travel department had not booked the flights I requested. I left at noon, which put me into San Diego at 5:30, I usually like to travel out later in the day, so I can have as much time at home (or wherever I am) as possible, But this time it was all right, since the weather at home was crummy, and it was a long flight anyway. I planned to take two days off after the trip, rent a Harley and just ride around, with no real purpose or destination. I begged, bargained and haggled with the WWE travel department to arrange my flight home. They finally ended up getting me a flight that would get me home on Friday morning. Of course it was on the crummiest airline in the world. (ATA for those keeping score) The flight left California at 11:30 PM, 6 hours after the bike was to be returned, but it didn’t matter, I was going to RIDE in CALIFORNIA!! Never mind that I had no destination or plans, or reservation for a room for that matter. I was staying out in California with two days and no plans. Perfect! It is kind of unusual for me to do this, and I really don’t know what made me decide to stay, but I knew it would be fun.

 

 The hotel in San Diego was right on the ocean, and there were seals in the harbor. I got to see a few and hear even more of them. (for most of the night in fact…) It was a good day, and a good start to what would end up being a GREAT trip.

 

 I had recently decided I wanted to buy a bicycle to keep on the tour bus. Since we don’t have to be at work until 10:30 on Tuesday, I can get up at 7 and have three hours to ride and explore. It just so happened that there was a Performance Bicycle store next door to the arena. By a further stroke of luck, this was their last day in business, and the prices were slashed. 30% off all bicycles and 50% off all accessories! I ended up with over $700 worth of bicycle and gear for $480. A good deal.

 

                 My Bike!

 

I mixed the RAW show, and it went well. There were more live segments than usual that night. I actually enjoyed mixing the show. It was a short hour bus trip from San Diego to Anaheim, and I stayed up for the ride instead of hitting my bunk. I love shows on Pacific Time, because RAW finishes at 8 PM, and I don’t have to be at work on Tuesday until 10:30 AM.

 

I was so excited about riding my new bicycle that I got up at 5:30 in the morning on Tuesday in Anaheim, and set out. I used to ride a bicycle every day when I was younger. In fact I used to race both street and mountain bikes a long time ago. However, I hadn’t ridden a bicycle in years. The concierge told me of a path that followed a river, and I headed out to it. I had so much fun riding that I put over 20 miles on that first day, and I wasn’t nearly as sore as I had thought I might be the next day. I think I am really going to enjoy having this bike on the road.

 

                     My Rented Bike

 

June 2, 2003 – This was the morning I went to pick up my Harley. I originally wanted a Heritage Softail, similar to the bike I own, but when I called to reserve one, I was told there weren’t any available. Wonder of wonders, when I showed up to pick up the bike, there was one waiting for me! A beautiful black 2003 model!  Things were looking up!

At Eaglerider, I asked for directions for a scenic route. They told me how to get to the Pacific Coast highway, and I proceeded to take a wrong turn and end up in a VERY seedy part of Los Angeles, South Central… I think this is where the riots were, and I can understand why. Desolate, depressing, with garbage strewn all over the place, and sad and desperate people everywhere. I stopped for directions at a gas station, and the attendant told me to “get on Highway 5 and get the hell out of here!”

 

I found my way out of this hell, and got on California Route 1, and ended up at the “Motorcycle Mile” where I stopped in at Bartel’s Harley Davidson dealership. With a new Bartel’s T shirt and some directions for a “great” ride, I was on my way.

 

I finally turned on the PCH 1 and took Topanga Creek Blvd to Mulholland Highway. The name is deceptive, because this “highway” is actually a twisty two lane road that few people live on and even fewer travel on. I did something that I have never managed to do before… on one of the tighter turns I “ground” a footboard, that is one of the footboards scraped against the road. I must have leaned WAY over for that to happen, because even though the Harley doesn’t have the best ground clearance, I have never managed to have a footboard hit the road before. It was surprising.

 

 

Once I realized what had happened, I started laughing out loud. It sounds dangerous, but it really is just startling more than anything. I rode this excellent road to the end, got back on PCH 1 and stopped at Neptune’s Net, which was described to me as a sort of biker/surfer hangout. I had a great lunch of salmon steak and fried calamari, then headed further north on PCH 1. It was cloudy, and not exactly warm, but I was out there and had a great day.

 

 

I stopped in a town called Oxnard and had a coffee at Starbucks, then decided to turn around. At this time, I didn’t have a room reservation anywhere. I was a little concerned because in my travels on PCH 1, I saw a lot of RV parking, but not one single hotel.

 

I rode through Malibu and ended up in Santa Monica. I stopped in Santa Monica, mostly because it had some hotels. (Not to mention this is where Neil Peart currently lives… you never know when you might run into the “Ghost Rider”!) There was a roller coaster and Ferris wheel on a pier, and it just looked like the place to stop. I was cold and getting tired, even though I had only ridden 211 miles.

 

I found a room in the Holiday Inn, for the ridiculous price of $149! Whatever. It was better than sleeping on the beach. There was a great looking sushi restaurant and a British pub nearby, so I figured it couldn’t be all bad. I had some expensive sushi then some reasonably priced Guinness, then headed to bed. I still didn’t have a plan for the next day, and was debating whether to take the bike back early and try to get and earlier flight out, or ride some more. The weather was not promising…

 

June 3, 2003 – I woke up this Thursday to a misty and gray day. I walked over to Jink’s Cafe and had breakfast, then got back on the bike. It was not exactly raining, but it was close enough. Heavy mist stuck to my goggles and skin. Oh well, it’s just water…

 

I decided that the Mulholland highway was so much fun, with such amazing scenery and turns that I would ride it one more time and then probably head back to Los Angeles to return the bike early.

 

As I got back on Topanga Canyon road, there was a small traffic jam. Someone had decided to drive their car off the road and down the embankment… It was a good way down too. There was an enormous tow truck there trying to pull the car back up to the road. I later found out that not one but two cars had followed each other down there. Never heard how the occupants made out.

 

The day was still gray, it was still heavily misting, and I was still debating turning around and returning the bike early. I was stopped at an intersection, with my headphones blaring and not really paying attention, when another bike, a white BMW RS 1100 pulled up next to me. The rider looked over at me and said “So much for sunny weather!” I nodded and said “Could be worse.” We waved and he went on his way.

 

                                                                     Dan!

 

I saw the same guy further down the road at another intersection, this time he was off his bike and had his cell phone in his hand. I pulled up to ask if he was all right, and he shrugged and simply said, “Work found me.” I introduced myself, and found out his name was Dan. He said he was heading to Neptune’s Net for coffee. I told him I would meet him there and continued on my way.

 

Dan pulled into Neptune’s Net in a few minutes after I did, and we got a table. I got a cookie and coffee, he had clam chowder. We talked for a while, and he told me that he was going to go to Route 33, because it might be sunnier there. He asked if I wanted to come along, and I said “Sure, as long as I can have this bike back by 5 in LA, why not?” He said he had to be back home by 3:30 so that wouldn’t be a problem. Having agreed on this, we set off on an impromptu adventure.

 

We rode about a half hour up the PCH, and it started to actually rain, but I didn’t care. I was happy to know that there was someone else that was as big of a motorcycle nut as me to ride in weather like this. We got to Route 33, and it was an even better mountain/canyon/valley road that the one I was on before, with huge bright yellow flowers lining both sides of the road.  It was incredible! Dan rode much faster than I did, stopping to wait for me several times. His BMW was much better suited to this type of riding, which is exactly why he bought it he told me. But I also had to slow down often to just look at the amazing scenery all around me. (I ended up grinding another footboard on these winding roads!) Dan would later comment that it was “like riding through a Dr. Seuss book!” It definitely was, and this day had already turned out better than I thought it would.

 

We kept climbing higher on these great and very twisty roads, and soon we were in the clouds. I could see the fog rolling up the mountain, and over the road. It was cool to ride through the mist, it would sometimes be suddenly cooler then quickly get warmer. When we crossed over the top of the mountain however, the sun came out and suddenly it was WARM! WOO HOO! It went from about 60 to well over 80 degrees in a matter of minutes.

 

                     Clouds roll across the road

 

We stopped at 2 PM at a little grocery store that had a deli in it. I had a roast beef sandwich, and Dan opted for the healthier salad. An grumpy older man walked in and asked if they had “gotten his cigarettes”, and was disappointed to find out that they had. The grouch seemed angry now because he had nothing to complain about. He also gruffly asked when the milk man was going to deliver next.  Strange little town, but cool too.

 

Dan said we could  take Highway 5 south back to LA, but then suggested a road that paralleled Route 5 instead. We took the back road. It was another 35 miles of twisted mountain roads. It didn’t exactly meet the definition of “parallel”. I was starting to wonder if Dan might be trying to keep me out in LA for another day of riding… which actually wouldn’t have been so bad.

 

                           An American and a German, two new friends at the lake

 

The sun was still bright and strong, and at 3:30 we stopped by a lake so Dan could make a few calls (cell phones didn’t work in the area we had had lunch in, how cool is that?) I was still wondering about making it back to LA by 5, because LA is famous for its incredibly bad traffic jams. Dan assured me we’d be “fine”. We got on Route 5 south and cranked up the speed. We moved into the HOV lane when we got closer to LA. Motorcycles are allowed to travel in this lane, and I felt sort of relieved that we were making good time until of course ALL traffic came to a complete stop. Even in the HOV lane. Great. Dan looked at me and said “Wanna lane split?”

 

 Lane splitting is legal in California, but I don’t know how smart it is. Basically the thought is that a motorcycle can pass a car either in its lane or on the white lines that divide lanes. I have always thought that motorcyclists doing this were INSANE, but we were up against the clock, so I figured what the hell?

 

I haven’t had a constant surge of adrenalin like this since the very first time I mixed RAW. It was QUITE a rush! It wasn’t quite as dangerous as I had thought, because once you start splitting the lanes, your focus intensifies, and you can really see the “lane” between the lanes and cars. Not that I will ever do it again, but it definitely WAS very intense riding.

 

There was a bad looking accident off to the side of the highway causing the traffic jam. A tractor trailer had rear ended a copper colored Ford and crumpled the whole rear end in. I could see that the air bags had deployed. The family was standing around the car in daze. The ambulance was on the scene, but the paramedics were just standing there. I was glad to see that nobody was seriously injured.

 

We ended up riding 348 miles that day. With our lane splitting, we made it back to the rental place at 15 minutes past five. I was afraid there would be a late fee. The guys at Eaglerider understood though, and didn’t charge me extra. In fact they gave me two days for the price of one…  Thanks guys!

 

Dan asked me what I was going to do, and I told him I was planning on going to the airport and waiting five hours for my flight. He invited me back to his house for a few cold beers. Cold beers always sound like a great idea to me! He gave me directions and I called for a cab. He went on ahead to make sure there was no “dirty underwear” on the floor.

 

We sat on his deck and had a few cold beers and talked about the different riding experiences we’ve had. He told me about riding with some other friends he had met on the roads and staying in a motel where the clerk told them that the local kids are “hoodlums” and let them park all their bikes inside the lobby of the motel! He also told me that his father had died at the young age of 52, and forced him to seriously rethink his priorities. We shared our experiences and talked about life and many things.

 

One of the things we talked about was riding to Alaska. This is something that has been rolling around in my brain for a while, ever since I read Neil Peart’s “Ghost Rider”  and a few other books that talked about what a great experience it was to ride the 1500 mile Alaskan Highway. Dan mentioned he wanted to ride up there next summer, and I really think that we will end up doing it.

 

Another thing we talked about is how everything is being developed. It seems that every open space there once was now has a house or strip mall or Applebee’s and Lowe’s on it. I feel that the developers are ruining everything with this greed, but Dan had a different point of view. He feels that the land have been constantly developed, it is just happening at a much faster pace now. He said that it used to take people twenty-four hours to get from downtown LA to the beach by stage coach in the 1900’s. Beverley Hills was a getaway for those that didn’t want to make the trip. Now you can make it to the beach in twenty minutes (if there is no traffic jam…) He thinks that it is just the way of the world. I am not sure who is right.

 

We went to a Thai restaurant and had dinner, and Dan’s wife Maxine met us there. The first thing she said to me was “Hello, what’s your story?” It seemed she was used to Dan bringing home “strays.” Dan used to commute to Australia to see her before they married. She was definitely an interesting person, and when dinner was over, they made me promise that I would be back again (which I know I will).

 

Dan took me back to the airport, and he again made me promise that I would come back. A handshake and a hug, and I was on my way. I told Dan, “I will see you again, my friend, we have a lot more riding to do!”

 

This little trip turned out to be exactly the reason that I ride motorcycles. So much can happen in one day! Amazing scenery and a new friend that I will definitely see and ride with again. To get out of the rut and meet new and interesting people.  To experience life not in a metal tube or box… to be in the moment and a part of the scenery instead of safely isolated from it. To get away from the plastic people that merely exist and LIVE.

 

Yeah, these few days are exactly why I ride.

 

THE END

But, it wasn’t the end, not by a long shot. Ride we still do. That first meeting and talk about riding to Alaska turned into Dan and I riding 7400 miles to Alaska exactly one year later. Dan moved to Australia in 2007, just as I was stalking, err… chasing after… no… I mean… as I was trying to get to know Fiona. Yes, that is what the lawyers told me was the appropriate term.

The timing of Dan’s move sucked a little, but in 2009 Fiona and I went Down Under for a visit. Dan and I (with Maxine and Fiona) rode around Australia for a week on the wrong side of the road. And in 2012, I will go Down Under once again. The day after my long flight, Dan and I will line up in Bathhurst to start (and hopefully finish) the APC Rally.

Dan’s been training for the APC Rally as well, recently completing his first Warrior Dash, sans mohawk. He’s done some long training rides on the APC rally tracks. By July 28th we’ll be as ready as we can be to tackle this ride, and no matter what happens, we’ll have a hell of a time doing it.