La Cresenta, CA

Made it. A touch under 700 miles.

This morning, James changed the oil on the bike, made me two easy-over eggs with salsa, and gave me a hug. Adela, Chase and Christen sent me on my way with the smiles of family. Blu could not say good bye because he was, unfortunately, under house arrest for barking at the Fed-Ex man.

I owe James and Adela tremendous gratitude for their generous spirit and wonderful friendship. It is an honor to know them. Many, many adventures lie ahead of us.

I got to La Cresenta ten hours later. I dodged a hailstorm, got a little rain, and was generally buffeted by high winds. Just as I was feeling pretty damn badass, about 50 miles outside of Vegas, some kid in a t-shirt on a giant Harley tourer went by me at about 100mph, splitting lanes. I didn’t even pretend to fall in behind him. The closer I got to home, the slower I went.

Helen had a bunch of friends over, and was clearly embarrassed by the appearance of her road-weary dad. She got me squared away, and they headed off to bowling. One young man had a track-worthy Mazda Miata, of which I heartily approve. It’s hard to believe that 23 years ago today Helen came into this world. Being a father has been the most important and rewarding experience of my life.

Overall, the Harley-Davidson FXLRST is a highway locomotive, a time-and-space compressor, a ballistic missile for the road.

It had six miles on it when I bought it, and now, 34 hours later, has 1,070. I did about 300 of those miles on backroads, but the other seven hundred miles have all been on the highway. That’s the worst way to break in a new motorcycle. Still, it didn’t miss a beat, and it’s running like a top.