Aussies Go US

Cormanus

Cormanus

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Day 1—Brisbane to Atlanta

24 May



I walked down the air bridge, tired but pleased to be getting onto the next leg of the journey. Officials were searching passengers’ luggage, but I thought little of it. Until it was my turn. Due to a conversation or two with Elipten on the CB1100 Forum, I was carrying a bottle of Bundaberg Overproof Rum. I hasten to add there was nothing secretive about the way I was carrying: it was in a sealed plastic bag swinging gently from one hand. I was directed to a table.

“What is that?”

“Bundaberg’s finest rum.”

“Where did you buy it?”

“Brisbane, Australia.”

“You can’t take it on the plane.”

“Why not? I was told in Brisbane there would be no problem.”

“The US Government does not allow you to carry more than 100 mls of liquid in your hand luggage.”

“But it’s all sealed up and in a duty-free package.”

“Sorry. It is not our requirement. The US Government will not allow you to take it on the plane. We have no choice but to take it away.”

Bye-bye Bundy.

:biker: :biker: :biker: :biker:
The trip from my home 130 kilometres north of Brisbane had ended with a pleasant surprise.I’d spent the last part of the afternoon with my three sons, the partner of one; my stepdaughter, her partner and their baby; and another friend (Erika, occasionally mentioned in Seat Time reports) and her brother. One son lives in Brisbane, another was in town for a conference and the third had flown to Brisbane to surprise me. He did.

They took me barefoot bowling (an Australian trick to lure fee paying youngsters into lawn bowling), out to dinner and then delivered me to the airport. All in honour of the birthday that would occur three days later. It was a much more agreeable afternoon and evening than I’d expected.

At 0050 on 24 May, my flight to Atlanta via Hong Kong and Los Angeles took off. Due to one of those curious events that involve the International Date Line I arrived in Atlanta at 1735 on the same day. The curious bit was that I’d travelled for more than 30 hours, watched a few movies and not slept much. It was no surprise I had a slight feeling of dislocation when I arrived. Still, I had enough of my wits about me to find a shop selling beer and take note of the bar across the road.

I’d nearly succumbed to sleep when there was a knock on the door. Wearily I dragged myself out of the chair and opened it. There, wheeling an enormous suitcase, stood Pterodactyl.

“G’day,” I said, “Beer?”

“Bloody oath,” he said.

I showed him to his room and went to fetch us a beer.

There is a certain inevitably about the way one beer with Pterodactyl leads to another. This evening was no exception. It then led to a trip across the street to the Publik Draft House, a pleasing craft beer establishment. Sadly, the kitchen there was not working to expectations and we had to make do with beer, snacks and an acceptable Californian Zinfandel. Sleep came easily and lasted rather longer than usual.

Day 2—Atlanta

25 May

The once grand Georgian Terrace Hotel, opposite the Fox Theatre in Atlanta, was showing its age a little, although signs apologised for ay inconvenience caused by renovations. The grand two-bedroom suite in which we found ourselves, though, was well appointed and comfortable. It had been found for us on the Internet by Mrs Pterodactyl whose accommodation search capacities came highly recommended. Deservedly so. Even better than the grandness, for a pair of mildly stingy Aussies, was the price tag. So Mrs Pterodactyl has been promoted to the status of ‘legend’ as an accommodation finder.

It was to be our base for a day or two while we sorted out some jet lag and prepared ourselves for our next adventure: riding to the inaugural CB1100Forum.com gathering near Robbinsville, North Carolina. I felt a certain satisfaction in having made it. In early 2014, I had a tentative plan to spend my 60th birthday in New York City, a place I’d never been. Actually, I still haven’t. When the rally was first mooted, the timing was such that I’d wondered if I could attend. I mentioned it casually to Pterodactyl one day and the next thing I knew we were booking bikes and accommodation at the Iron Horse Motorcycle Lodge. The NYC trip had gone pear shaped for other reasons, but here we were in Atlanta.

As I stumbled round in the morning, I made my first local discovery of differences between Australia and America: there are no facilities for a bloke easily to make a cup of tea. There was a nifty gizmo for making coffee, but nothing in which to boil water. I was too tired to figure it.

By the time we got downstairs breakfast was done and dusted in the hotel dining room and croissants in the attached coffee shop didn’t seem substantial enough. We went in search of a café. It was Memorial Day so that turned out to be mildly tricky, but we found the Broadway Diner over the road. This 24-hour establishment had a sign in small print apologising for no longer being open 24 hours. I was not surprised: there was one other person in the place.

Later we walked the deserted streets of downtown Atlanta, hoping to find some activity. Other than a feminist rally in Woodruff Park, and the odd beggar, there was not a great deal happening. A man walking past said, “Y’all looking for something to do? Won’t find anything much on Memorial Day.” It didn’t matter; we’d had a walk which is one of the prescriptions for jet lag and a desultory afternoon in the hotel further helped to repair our depleted beings.

The Publik Draft House being closed, we took beer and dinner on the terrace at the hotel overlooking the historic Fox Theatre. Sadly, perhaps, there was nothing on there, but the future offered a veritable explosion of blasts from the past—the B52s, Culture Club, Anthony Bourdain and the legendary Brian Wilson. While Sesame Street Live mightn’t rank as a must see, some of the other acts made it a pity not to be staying longer. As we ate it rained and thundered, a good omen for a motorcycle ride.





Day 3—Atlanta

26 May

It was my 60th birthday and home seemed a long way. When I woke, I tormented myself wondering when my birthday had actually started given the time at home was 14 hours ahead. I was in no fit state to figure it; and I still couldn't figure out how to make a cup of tea. To give you an idea of the extent of my discombobulation, the suite had a kitchen. The kitchen had a stove and, tucked away in a cupboard was a saucepan. See? Not hard: remove saucepan from cupboard, fill with water, switch on stove element, bring water to boil, add to cup and tea bag. Allow to steep. Drink. I’m pleased to report I figured it out the next morning.

Pterodactyl and I made our way again to the Broadway Diner. If possible it was even quieter and they’d run out of cappuccino. I still don’t know how you can do that. I think there was no-one there who knew how to work the machine.

For the rest of the day we occupied ourselves with trying to make our telephones work in the US. We’d be told to go Verizon, but a long walk to the Verizon shop yielded only the information that our GSM-based phones wouldn’t work with Verizon’s CDMA-based network. So we walked the mile or so back to the hotel, had a bit of a rest and set out to walk to the couple of miles to the AT&T shop which we’d been told could help. And it did, except that Pterodactyl discovered his phone was locked to the network in Australia. He then had to make a phone call or two and we had to find an Apple Shop in order to unlock the thing. Before we got back to the hotel I’d had my first two experiences of Uber, both good.

A quick march down the road to the Baraonda Café Italiano for what I recall was an excellent meal, a beer or two, more red wine, and it was the end of day 3.
 
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Looking forward to the next instalment Cormanus.

“Sorry. It is not our requirement. The US Government will not allow you to take it on the plane. We have no choice but to take it away.”

At this time the best would have been to excuse yourself go to the toilet and pour the rum down the drain but I guess that's against EPA regulations.

No doubt next time I will have my tea bags confiscated. I've been asked " whats this " customs agent pointing at a sealed box of 50 Liptons Tea Bags my response "Tea Bags mate not willing to risk it on your side of the Ditch". His response "good onya on your way".

Not all customs agents have a sense of humour so it pay to suck it up.

Regards
 
I had no trouble taking my litre of Bundy from SYD to DFW. At DFW I transferred it to my checked baggage for the domestic sector to ATL. I think the blokes in Hong Kong might have been a little thirsty.

Cheers and fangs for the memories.
 
Cormanus...if you were not a writer in this life, you were certainly one in a past life. As you guys would say ... 'This is Bloody Good'. Keep it coming!!
 
ES,

He is talking about the trip to the Rally. I'm waiting for the Bubba chapter :P
 
The liquids issue depends on the starting location flight rules and the airports in between. Best GP stiff in checked luggage, but many countries allow you to carry on and the you transfer to checked luggage when arriving in USA before rechecking bags. Sorry about the Bundy loss.


Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk
 
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Day 4—Atlanta-Cumming

27 May


I have no idea whether this map reflects where we went! I was just following ride4now. But it was something like that

After breakfast, it was time to sort our gear, pack up and make our way northwards to Marietta where we would find Wow Motorcycles, one of Atlanta’s two EagleRider agents. This is the one that deals with bikes that aren’t manufactured by Harley Davidson.

Before we left Australia, a couple of forum members had generously offered to help us find our feet when we hit the US. In particular, ride4now offered us a bed for the night before we were due to head north and then to show us the way. We had grabbed at the opportunity. We’d talked by email about collecting the bikes, then riding to meet him before going for a bit of an acclimatisation ride. But, when we made telephone contact the evening before, he generously offered to come to the bike shop to meet us. While I think his offer was both kind and generous, I also suspect a desire to ride and show off his very pretty Harley Davidson.

ride4now’s lovely Harley Davidson

Is it terrible to admit a couple of middle-aged men were pretty excited about the days to come? It was good we were as we got to EagleRider earlier than out scheduled noon pick up time. Indeed we got there not long after 1100 and it took us a good hour and then some to complete the paperwork, change our gear and stow the luggage we would not be taking with us.

The FJR and ST that Pterodactyl and I would be riding for the coming week

I for one was very pleased ride4now had come to meet us. The whole business of riding on the opposite side of the road was somehow un-nerving even though I had done it before in Europe. I had memories of pulling out of a drive and ending up on the wrong side of the road. It was fine when it happened as there wasn’t any traffic, but I was not keen to make the same mistake in a busy US city.

Ride4now took us north a little then we stopped for a late lunch, after he led us to Buford Dam at Lake Lanier for a look before heading to ride4now’s house in Cumming where we passed a most agreeable evening and got to tuck into Mrs ride4now’s excellent lasagne. We also got to inspect the motorcycle painting he told us about [URL=https://cb1100forum.net/threads/62482/]here.

Riding with a couple of Australians requires intense concentration. You never know quite what they’ll do next




Having started to get the hang of the right hand side of the road, I managed to get in some practice with mobile photography


Apparently it’s important to put fuel into Harleys via the rider’s boot. I didn’t know this




At Lake Lanier


I know it’s not a lovely black 2011 Honda CB1100, but it is a Honda; it is a fine motorcycle; and I very much enjoyed riding it for a week or so. It became my friend.

I was mildly surprised that ride4now and his wife would offer board to a couple of unknown Aussies they’d only come across on an Internet forum. I discussed this with ride4now and while we agreed that you can probably tell something about people from their posts and behaviour on a forum as civilised as CB1100forum.com, I still think it’s an interesting risk to take. That said, both Pterodactyl and I took a similar risk when we agreed to meet in a remote New South Wales town and head off for a week together. The story has been told elsewhere, but it turned out both our wives expressed concern that we might be off to meet an axe murderer!

But thanks again for having us, ride4now and Mrs ride4now. I enjoyed it very much.
 
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There is a certain apprehension that comes with the prospect of meeting someone from an internet forum that is distinctly different than the apprehension of meeting someone through more conventional social interaction. I have met, to my best count, nine people through this forum and another like it and have found in each case that my nervousness was misplaced. I think one does get a pretty good feel for the personality of someone who posts frequently in a forum of this nature, but it's hard to explain to someone who hasn't read those posts that you're not just "meeting some stranger from the internet". However, I never had to say to my spouse "I'm going to fly to the U.S. and stay with this guy I met on the forum. Where in the U.S.? Well, do you know where Deliverance was filmed?"
 
Thread starter
Day 5—Cumming to Stecoah

28 May


Once again, I can’t absolutely sure this was the exact route, but it can’t be far off

Ride4now’s generosity extended to trailering SanPete’s CB1100 from Florida to Cumming so SanPete could travel up with his family, attend the rally, then ride on northwards to rejoin them. When he arrived after our excellent breakfast of French toast, I was not to know what a brilliant ride he would have from the Iron Horse Motorcycle Lodge (IHML) to his destination in Virginia. His wife suggested we ride with him up the Blue Ridge Parkway after the rally. I thought I’d been slightly non-committal, but I was later to learn—very much to my embarrassment—that she had set about trying to organise accommodation for us. Americans I discovered are keen to be generous.








SanPete needed fuel so we stopped. I was excited by the American petrol bowsers which allow you to pay by card at the bowser. I like all this automated stuff. Alas, you have to have a credit card attached to an American postcode or it simply doesn’t work. Worse than that, if you want to pay by card, you have to head inside, take a stab at how much fuel you need and either not get enough or get too much and have to get a refund on your card. If you want to pay with cash you have to pay for more than you need and then go and get change. Don’t worry US forum members, the US is not alone in this practice; I’ve had the same problem in the UK. For some reason the custom does not seem to have arrived Down Under yet.

On the road to North Carolina

After a bit of stuff on big roads with lots of traffic, we soon found ourselves on Route 129. I think. I didn’t know it at the time but, had we stayed on it we’d’ve ended up on the Dragon. We made our way through Neel Gap where we stopped for coffee. Well, sort of coffee. I found it hard to get coffee in the style we drink it in Australia. We drink plenty of espresso-based coffee. It’s hard to imagine a modern Australian café without an enormous espresso machine—and not simply one where you just press a button. These are big things with dials and levers and spouts that blast vicious gouts of steam about the place. Many Australian homes have small espresso machines. The Bunn-style coffee maker is becoming a rarity, except in hotel dining rooms and conference centres. And, in my humble opinion, that’s a good thing. Stewed, faintly burned coffee is not for me.



Neel Gap is, I learned, a staging point on the Appalachian Trail. The shop sells all sorts of goodies, including boots. This tree is a resting place for old boots





From Neel Gap we made our way north and, much more quickly than I expected, we were in Robbinsville where we paused for food and fuel for the CB1100s. It was different for me riding the ST which needed refuelling much less often. Still, I rather wished I’d had the CB with me for this ride.

Actually, that’s not altogether true. I was astounded to learn that ride4now’s bike had actually been out of the show room and on the road. It was pristine. Indeed, it probably still is. I think I might have been slightly embarrassed to have been riding mine with 37,000 kms of pretty solid use and its owner’s policy of benign neglect.







On the road north
From Robbinsville it’s a short ride to the Iron Horse Motorcycle Lodge where we were to spend the coming days.

We checked in, found our way to the cabin where we were sharing a bathroom and a balcony with Mike Neal and his brother. It’s a beautiful setting. Our cabin overlooked a stream running through the middle of the property; the entire place is surrounded by steep, verdant hills. In spite of the occasional outburst of loud motorcycle, it is a serene and peaceful place. And it has the internet.



The sight that greeted us as we rode into the IHML

Not long after we arrived, there was a mild commotion at the bottom of the steps and there stood the Ferret. Finally, after endless communication on the forum, it was the man himself. There was to be plenty of handshaking and working out who was who during the rest of the day.

Ferret and Pterodactyl

Our riding day was not quite done. Graham County, home of the IHML, is, as Pterodactyl and I were warned by EmptySea, a dry county. The IHML can’t sell alcohol, but you’re welcome to buy some and take it there to drink. It even helpfully provides information on how to get to the nearest sources. I’m sure someone can explain to me why a dry county is so blasé about allowing people to consume alcohol there.

Bryson City was the closest source. So ride4now, SanPete, Pterodactyl and I took to the saddle again and headed east. On the way Pterodactyl was overtaken by a bike going very quickly. It pulled in ahead of him and slowed down fast; the rider insouciantly joining our line. Moments later, a police car appeared and waved people over. Pterodactyl confessed to being a bit concerned, but he was quickly waved on and his new found friend was asked to stay behind. The officer new exactly which biker he wanted a chat with.

Not long afterwards we were overtaken by a couple of CB1100s. SanPete, SCCBrider and dUh! had a conference in the middle of the road before, SCCBrider and dUh! disappeared in the opposite direction. I’ve no idea what they all talked about.

I’ve no idea what this strange conference was about

We stopped at the liquor store in Bryson City. I learned another lesson: liquor stores sell only distilled spirits. Judging by the size of the place, I could have bought almost any form of spirit known to man, but I wanted none of it. The man told us to try the service station if we wanted beer and wine.

We got beer at the service station, but not without incident. I paid for the beer I’d bought and the young lady put it in a plastic bag. I picked it up and the bottom promptly fell out it breaking two bottles of beer on the floor. I helped as best I could in cleaning up the mess and she replaced the beer for me. Kind.

But there was no wine and we headed round the corner to the supermarket which sold both beer and wine, but not spirits.

Suitably fortified for the evening, we made the 20 mile trip back to IHML for a well earned beer, dinner and conversation with US CB1100 owners.
 
Enjoying the heck out of this Cormanus. Smiling at times, laughing at others. Great stuff.
 
Bravo, Cormanus! I'm enjoying your report immensely. Looking forward to the next installment!
 
Cormanus...you are hilarious!!!!! Thanks for the kind words...and Mrs R4N says the same. We definitely enjoyed having you both stay with us...we both wish it had been longer. You know...there's something about this forum...maybe it's the bikes and the type of people they attract? Or maybe it's Ferrets excellent moderating? Perhaps both...but I've met SanPete here, Greg Davis (who doesn't post anymore unfortunately), and VfrPaul briefly last year. And I have tell you...they were (are) all normal people that I felt comfortable being around. And the guys we met at the rally... they just added to the narrative! But it was your writing... I'm telling you, you (and Pteradactyl) have a gift... you both are excellent writers. And through your writing, it was easy to tell that you were the real deal...not a flake, or an 'axe murderer'. If anything, you guys took the risk... because my writing doesn't measure up to yours. Keep the reports coming...
 
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