Frenchy's Rant

This is my first official fan mail, from the Great State of Tennessee.

Click on the letter for a larger, more legible version.

Thank you, Tennessee, but I only claim islands and pseudo-islands for the Kingdom. Besides, you were already claimed by the North way back on May 10th, 1865.

Love ya, mean it!

Hangover or not, the day’s plan was to ride to Fire Island, about two hundred miles in the wrong direction, and for what? To get some pictures of the Fire Island Lighthouse of course! The weather was unusually nice, a rarity when Rain Cloud Follows is on the road. After some trouble getting up from the previous night’s excesses, and a few choice promises to a few choice deities to never again do whatever caused all that morning’s pain ever again, MiniAbi and I were headed to Long Island.

Long Island is confusing. Even with a GPS, a paper map and a divining rod, hell, even if I had Magellan in my tankbag instead of a stupid little plastic guy, I still would get lost like a little baby squirrel in that maze of a place.

So I backtracked, U-turned and otherwise floundered and stumbled my way to Fire Island. When I got there, the access road to the lighthouse was closed, of course. The lighthouse looked to be about a half mile away, so I decided to park at the beach and walk. This decision would have definitely been different had I not been riding alone. But wait, I wasn’t really alone. What about MiniAbi?

MiniAbi decided to stay and hang out at the beach. Frustrating. If only there was something I could do, some way to get through to this guy that by constantly vetoing everything, he’s constantly missing out.

The half mile walk ended up being closer to two miles, and I was tired and hungry when I reached the lighthouse. A ranger was standing outside the building grilling hamburgers. I walked up to him and offered him twenty bucks for one, I was so hungry. No vegetarians in this party! He looked at me like I was nuts, but changed his tune when I pulled out the money.

That was the best, most expensive hamburger I’ve ever eaten!

Fire Island Lighthouse

And the lighthouse wasn’t too shabby either. They offered a tour to the top, which normally I would take. But it was about twenty million stairs to the top, so, since nobody was there to call me a pussy, I passed and checked out the gift shop instead.

In the gift shop, I found what I considered the perfect gift to make MiniAbi appreciate lighthouses. And when I found him sleeping on the beach, I gave it to him before he woke up.

A lighthouse tattoo on the back of his head. If that doesn’t make him appreciate lighthouses, nothing will.

I told him it was time to go, but he refused. He wanted to stay and enjoy the scenery.

Wow. A seagull on a sign. Thrilling.

No. Not THAT scenery… THIS scenery:

MiniAbi, you may have a point there…

But we had a schedule to keep, and a maze to re-navigate to get off Long Island, a feat that would probably take up the rest of the afternoon. I had to drag MiniAbi away from the beach. OK, truth be told, he had to drag ME away… but in any case we left the natural beauty of Fire Island for the coast of New Jersey.

Most of the remainder of the day was spent alternating between the Garden State Parkway and some fun little back roads.

It got late far too early. The fun roads, while fun, were left in order to get some distance in. We were racing the sunset to make it to Barnegat Light on Long Beach Island, the final lighthouse for the day. Hammering paid off, and the beautiful sunset was worth the boring slog.

Barnegat Light – Long Beach Island, NJ

It was getting dark, so I didn’t take the time to stage a ‘disaster’ for MiniAbi. But my little tattoo gift must have helped him appreciate lighthouses a bit, because he picked the most sanitationally questionable hotel for the night, most likely because of the sign.

Granted it was the only hotel on the whole island with a vacancy. The lesson to be learned here is when there is only one room available in a whole area, there’s probably a reason it’s not booked, right?

The bed wasn’t new in 1984, there was not one but TWO broken refrigerators strewn about the floor. The rats were too afraid of all the cockroaches to cause much of a disturbance. It wasn’t really that bad, but it was pretty close. MiniAbi and I flipped a coin to see who got to sleep in the tankbag.

I lost.

I’ve never been so happy for morning to come, and we were on the road early. I wanted to see two final lighthouses before boarding the Cape May ferry and hammering the rest of the way into Washington DC.

We stopped for breakfast, and I found out my little tattoo trick definitely worked. While I was enjoying my coffee, MiniAbi disappeared once again. I found him across the street, and I couldn’t believe what he was doing.

I should have bought another tattoo for MaxiAbi.

He sure could’ve used it in Nova Scotia.

Atlantic City has a lighthouse. I know, I couldn’t believe it either, but it does. Absecon Lighthouse, located blocks from the casinos is actually the tallest in New Jersey, at 171 feet. This lighthouse also has an amazing first order Fresnel lens, which is still completely intact.

Because I didn’t have to walk two miles to get there, I decided to climb all 228 stairs and see the lens. The interior of the lighthouse was beautiful.

The lens was amazing to see. Yes, at this point in the trip I am excited about a lighthouse lens. Thank God Fiona will be joining me next week!

From the top of Absecon, I could see thick, dark clouds massing in the distance. I hurried down the stairs two at a time to try and beat the oncoming storm, but it did no good. The rain clouds that were following Rain Cloud Follows caught up, and it started to rain. Hard.

Rain Cloud Follows under a bridge – it must be raining!

The storm was quick but thorough. Everything was drenched. I thought I was going to drown for a while at the lightning flashed and thunder boomed. A waterlogged MiniAbi even lost his smile, for a while. Then, just as suddenly as it started, the rain stopped. I stopped at a rest area to put some dry socks and underwear on.

My jacket forms a puddle.

The skies remained dark, but there was one final lighthouse on the way to the ferry that I wanted to see. Hopefully the clouds would hold off long enough for me to get my final pictures of this final lighthouse.

Right. Look at that sky. There is no chance the rain would hold off. That’s why the bike is called Rain Cloud Follows.

Cape May Lighthouse – Cape May, NJ

It didn’t. But you can’t get wetter than soaked, which I already was, so I was OK with it.

We made the ferry, and the last hundred miles to Washington slid by, uneventful and lighthouse free. At this point in the epic journey, MiniAbi went home – to make room for Fiona, who will be meeting me in Baltimore on Wednesday.

Thanks for a great trip, MiniAbi! I’m sure we’ll ride again!

When MiniAbi first appeared, I have to admit, I was a little nervous. I’m a firm believer in first impressions and going with my gut feeling, and my first impression and my gut were both telling me there was something just a bit… odd about this little fellow.

But he seemed nice enough, and sometimes first impressions can be wrong. Besides, it was this guy or nobody. We parked our bikes in front of my house for the traditional “start-of-ride’ picture.

Me and Rain Cloud Follows – MiniAbi and his mini-fjr

Immediately after snapping this photo, the first of countless disasters struck. Rosie, my neighbor’s dog ran over, grabbed MiniAbi’s mini-fjr in his mouth and proceeded to chew it to bits.

It was in the face of this incredible setback that I learned of MiniAbi’s resilience. Most people would be devastated by the tragic loss of their cherished motorcycle, but not this little guy. He just kept on smiling as he removed his turban and pulled on his riding helmet.

I suggested we salvage the ride and he ride ‘bitch’ in my tankbag, and he jumped right in.

MiniAbi gives the thumbs up from my tankbag – hard to do with no thumb!

A few miles from my house we made our first stop. MiniAbi wanted his picture next to the ‘Welcome to Connecticut’ sign. That’s cool, we do that kind of thing too, so I stopped. I turned my back for one second to line up the shot, and before I even knew what happened, MiniAbi went ahead and claimed Connecticut for the Kingdom of Trinidad!Not only is putting a sticker on a street sign silly, juvenile and borderline vandalism, worst of all, it’s gimmick infringement! I made MiniAbi promise that he wouldn’t steal any more of my ideas on this trip. It was hard to convince him, as he is a very stubborn little piece of injection molded plastic, but in the end, he saw things my way.

I had a great coastal route planned, with stops at at least ten lighthouses on the way. Hopefully MiniAbi feels differently toward lighthouses than Abi does. Whenever I stop at a lighthouse for a photo op, Abi usually folds his arms across his chest and pouts until we leave. Sometimes he is such a joy, honestly.

Abi ‘enjoying’ the Wood Island Lighthouse on Prince Edward Island

Our first stop in Old Saybrook was a doubleheader, both the Lynde Point Light and the Saybrook Breakwater Lighthouse could be seen, if we could get to them. Both of these historic landmarks are surrounded by the exclusive town of Fenwick, a very exclusive golf resort ringed by exclusive and very expensive houses. I knew this town was full of douchebags the instant I saw this sign, posted on the road to Lynde Point Light.

Honest to God, if I had a dual sport, I would have let my Devil horns pop up and screamed over to chase Muffy and Buffy and Biff and Chad all over their stupid golf course. But I didn’t have a dual sport, so I refrained from doing something that desperately needed to be done.

On the way to Lynde Point, another asinine sign was posted. ‘No Trespassing. Private Road. Get the Fuck Outta Here Unless You are an Exclusive Fenwick Douchebag.’ I knew these rich, exclusive people would exclude a biker from their exclusive lands, in fact as I was getting my camera out to take a picture a black Escalade pulled up and the driver demanded to know what business I had there. His wife, mistress, maid or whatever was dialing her cell phone, most likely to the police. Oh no! Someone on a motorcycle wants to take a picture of a lighthouse! Call the FBI!!

Rather than have a confrontation with this blowhard, I left and circled around to the only public place in Fenwick with a view of the lighthouses.

Lynde Point Lighthouse

Saybrook Breakwater Light

While I snapped these less-than-compelling pictures, MiniAbi slept in the saddle of Rain Cloud Follows.

MiniAbi ‘enjoying’ the far off lighthouses.

A guy in a golf cart pulled up and suggested a better viewpoint, away from the snooty people of Fenwick. I thanked him for the tip and headed over to the place he suggested.

The view of these two lights, uncluttered by golfers and golf carts, was better, if a little further away.

Much better! While I was fooling around with the camera, MiniAbi was fooling around in the ocean.
After shooting some pictures of this unfolding drama, I saved him. This guy has some serious bad luck!

Our second stop of the day was another double header, Southwest Ledge Light and Five Mile Point Lighthouse in New Haven. I paid the ridiculous entrance fee, and set off to add two more lighthouses to my collection.

Five Mile Point Lighthouse

Southwest Ledge Light

Once again, MiniAbi stayed behind, and once again misfortune befell him. I really think that if he’d only learn to appreciate lighthouses a little bit, or at least learn to pretend to appreciate them, these awful things would stop happening to him. This time, while I was away, some kids decided it would be funny to bury MiniAbi in the sand, covering his head with a snail shell.

Poor guy. But he took it all in stride; that manic grin never left his face, no matter what happened to him.

I had one more stop planned for the first day, then it was off to find a hotel. Stratford Point Lighthouse is at the end of a residential street, but without any Private Road signs. I was able to get right up to the structure for some decent pictures.

Stratford Point Lighthouse

MiniAbi actually got into the spirit of things, and posed in front of this place. Even still, something bad happened. But this time it was my fault. While repacking Rain Cloud Follows, I left MiniAbi behind. I was about two miles away when I realized my tankbag contained one less little plastic guy than before! I turned around and got him, but he was pretty pissed. He refused to ride bitch in the tankbag, opting instead to ride on the back of my big red bag.

We’d both had about enough lighthouses for the day; it was time to find accommodations. My hotel requirements are pretty simple. A bed, and a bar within walking distance. A small, Mom and Pop place is more desirable than a chain, but a walking distance watering hole is most important. That’s enough for me. The Fairfield Inn satisfied both requirements.

I walked across the street for a coffee, and when I returned, I swear that MiniAbi was channeling the real Abi. There was a Red Sox game on, and MiniAbi was settled in for the night.

Great. Looks like I’ll be going over to the Tavern on 7 by myself, as usual. I hate baseball. But I love Guinness, and fortunately the Tavern on 7 had plenty on tap. I spent a few hours enjoying myself, but I wasn’t enjoying myself nearly as much as MiniAbi was enjoying the mini bar in the hotel room. After last call, I returned to the room to find this:

Great. Tomorrow could be a long day for MiniAbi……

It all started in a bar. Seems like it always does start that way, with a Guinness in hand, map spread across a table.

“What if we rode to…. How far is it from…. Take a week off, or ride, work, then ride some more?” This is how our rides to Scotland, Baja and across the Unites States were conceived. No matter how complex or ridiculous, the logistics of the planned ride always seem to make sense around the fourth pint or so. Around the fifth the deal is sealed, and we’ve planned another riding adventure, this one a three part epic.

Since The Great Nova Scotia Expedition, my usual riding buddy Abi bought a brand new motorcycle, a Kawasaki Concours 14.


Seems Fireball, his well-traveled BMW Rockster will be spending the remainder of it’s days semi-retired in Florida.

The problem? Abi’s new Concours was parked in his garage deep in the wilds of Florida. Rain Cloud Follows, my Yamaha FJR was parked in the Kingdom of Rhode Island, probably being rained on.

According to our late night, alcohol fueled plan, we’ll both ride out separately, meet in Knoxville, then ride back across the country to California, so the bikes can spend the winter in a warm climate with great roads. (As I said, these ride plans are almost always Guinness powered, thus not always easy to follow.)

With our most recent ride, The Great Nova Scotia Expedition, my beautiful and patient girlfriend Fiona used up all her vacation time, so she wouldn’t be able to come along for part one. She’ll fly out and meet me for Part Two, Baltimore to Knoxville.

What all this babble really means is the first part of this three part epic, heading from the Kingdom of Rhode Island to Washington DC will be the rarest of rare rides for me, solo. Why Washington DC? Simple. RAW, the WWE show that I work on is live from the Verizon Center on Monday, so I have a free hotel room for a few days during work. That’s great, but the best part for me would be riding unencumbered I was free to pick the longest, most interesting route with the best roads I could figure out.

At first, I loved the idea. Riding alone, I could stop wherever I want, whenever I want. Every single lighthouse between Rhode Island and Washington DC? Sure. Nobody would complain! Ride late? No problem! Eat plenty of meat for dinner? Yes! Go out for cocktails after a long day’s ride, even if there’s a Red Sox game on? Why not?

But, while the positives are numerous, the more I thought about it, riding alone just seemed… oh, I dunno… wrong. Might be boring or something. So I did what any rider would do in this situation, I posted a ‘Riding Buddy Wanted’ message on my favorite motorcycling forum, Toyrider.com

I got a bunch of replies from a bunch of goofballs, but nothing really serious panned out. Looked like Part One of this ride would be solo after all.

The day before I left, I received what seemed to be the perfect response. It was eerie. At first I thought it was Abi goofing on me, this guy seemed so similar. A native of Trinidad, just like Abi, this guy wanted to break in his new touring bike, which just so happened to be an FJR. Bizarre. He also had just enough time off to do Part One with me. Weirdest of all, he was also a Red Sox fan. Oh well, nobody’s perfect.

Honestly, all that info sounded good, almost too good, but it was the pictures that he included that convinced me that this was the guy to make the trip with me:

Part One of this epic ride, titled The Misadventures of MiniAbi can be found here.

I entered a few of my pictures in a contest at Parade.com

If you have a second, click on the links below to vote for them, even though they suck. Voting is easy, just click on the little ‘Vote’ bubble below the picture, and remember, vote early and often!!

Cape Cod Sunset

Fishing Town

The Big One

Newport Bridge