North America: Riding a 21 year old Goldwing: 44 - Leaving the Willamette Valley, Another Saturday Night at the Races and Boise Boise is the Best!

It was cold all morning and I was too stubborn to stop. Riding if hypothermia is a possibility is stupid. While consulting, one of the best guys on my team who led a development team for one of my projects at Winstar Communications told me he was taking a long weekend to ride a motorcycle to WVA. He hadn't ridden in years. He told me of his plans because he knew of my two-wheeled passion. In the fall of 2000, he left DC early one morning with a friend. The last thing his friend heard was nonsensical gibberish coming from the speakers connected to their two-way radio. Then, my friend simply rode off the road at 70 mph and spent then next 10 months in the hospital and physical therapy. I've not seen him since. That experience really convinced me of the dangers of riding when cold. Hypothermia heads to disorientation.

Today wasn't hypothermic cold, just painful cold. I didn't want to stop for fear that I'd make coffee and kill time for way too long. When I stopped here, it was warm, sunny and beautiful.

As I sat on the cliff (above left,) a guy walked up (above right) and we started talking. At 49, he'd had a massive heart attack. He'd come to this spot for the last 25 years and loved it. But after having a near-death experience, he convinced himself to do something he'd always wanted to. Last year, he jumped off the cliff directly behind him.

I love jumping off cliffs. I always have. Tubing on the James River in Virginia, I was usually one of the instigators that initiated climbing up to the cliff and jumping 20-40 feet into the river. Three stories is a fun jump. Four stories is scary, but doable. I've never jumped off anything higher than 40 feet or so.

This was a six or seven story jump. Too high for my scared self. As I sat there and wondered how many people had jumped, and more importantly, how many had wanted to, but chickened out.

Then, up walked Milt.

He admitted that it was scary, but that he did it a second time. What a cool guy!

He offered a joint, and I graciously declined.

See ya Milt.

Yet another mountain pass. Not nearly as high as the 12,000 feet on Beartooth pass in Red Lodge, Montana, but very impressive and fantastic motorcycle-riding roads.

I found wi-fi and discovered that the nearest short-track was only a few hundred miles away. I rode hard all day and got to Madras, Oregon around 7:00. I set up camp during the first race and made my way to the Grandstands before the green flag fell for the follow-up race. It was one of the smallest venues I'd attended and reminded me of the track in Gillette Wyoming. The mountains in the background, the sunset, the smell of rubber and burning gasoline, it's hard to beat it for a race fan.

Today, it took me 350 miles and eleven hours of riding to make it here for the races.

The intoxicating roar of the race cars' engines as I walked toward the track entrance made me excited to see some dirt track action.

Check out the flagman displaying the checkers with the pink sky above, the blue horizon, and the Eastern Oregon landscape in the background.

Around twilight, the announcer began giving the good news to the raffle winners.

The guy sitting near me was so happy to hear that his little girl had won. I walked over and introduced myself told them about living in Winston-Salem, only a few miles from the Richard Childress Racing shop and the RCR museum. I've been there several times and have seen the great display of Dale Earnhardt cars and memorabilia.

He showed me his #3 tattoo on his forearm, so I got his address to send a picture to him that I'd taken at the RCR shop. He was really excited and very friendly.

His little girl was so happy to have won.

Racing is such a family sport.

I went over to see who else had won and a lady was carrying her Dale Jr. life-size cutout to her car. She obliged my request for a photo op.

Then I met Kenny.

Kenny Keefer drives the #6 Purple People Eater. I told him of my trip and all the short tracks I've visited. He told me of his season and compared it to earlier years when he'd been on top of the point standings. Then, he told me to stay where I was and he took off. He came back with an autographed picture of him with his car in Victory Lane. "Here ya go man. Hope your trip keeps going great!" And off he went. Below is a crash. Kenny raced later that night and had mechanical problems. You can see his car is pictured below as he exited the track.

Later that night, I ended up in Victory Lane. I'm really not sure how. To borrow a phrase from [insert the name of your favorite Southern race car driver here] "It's just one of them racin' deals."

So in victory lane, I met Thomas Hunziker from Switzerland. (Pronounced with the accent on the second syllable.)

He'd come in second that night, and was planning on clinching the championship in a couple of weeks. Thomas had been racing in Oregon for a few years. He and his wife were at the track every weekend and that night, he had two cars in victory lane. It was a good night for the Hunziker's

So then he turns to me and says: "How about you come back to the track on Tuesday and I'll let you hot lap my car"

I couldn't believe it. Did he just offer to let me drive his race car? "Seriously?" I replied.

"Sure. You rode a motorcycle to Alaska and back, you can drive a a race car"

Wow

Unfortunately, I couldn't justify hanging out in Oregon for three more days, but it was so cool to have an offer to drive a race car.

Devyn Kilby put her #38 car in the third finishing spot in the Sportsman Series race. She probably 15 or 16 and has been having a great season. Pictured above with her Dad, he was quite proud of her. Later that night, some people invited me to join their party at their RV and I spent a couple of hours hanging out with the guy with the silver hair on the right. It was a fun night at the Madras Speedway.

In the morning, the view from where I'd camped. After sleeping late and drinking coffee (thanks to my neighbors from the night before,) I got back on the bike to ride a few hundred miles. It was a gorgeous day.

A field of onions and a Boise Alehouse. I rode 15 minutes out of town and camped at one of the coolest places to camp.

After 11 hours and 300 miles, I was ready to relax.

Since I got there about an hour before dark, I went for a quick hike and then down to the lake to take photographs. Once it got dark, I made an MRE (thanks Bill) and had a beer and decaf for desert.