Seattle deserves a lot more time than we allowed ourselves there, but with a Kamikaze agenda, we hit enough bars and restaurants to give us a good taste of the seaside city. For me, downtown Seattle means Pike’s Market on the waterfront. You could spend a whole day wandering through the dozens of shops in buildings on both sides of the street, and not see it all.
So far, Ruby has carried us (Ed, Cathryn and Axle) over 3,200 miles…that’s about 5,000 Kanadian miles, from Windsor, Ontario, to Surrey, British Columbia. She’s resting in the garage as I write this, but has an appointment at the hawg dealership tomorrow, for a new front tire, oil change, and minor damage repair from a hitting a bad pot hole somewhere out there. Yes, Tim, the Harley made it all the way across the country…just follow my oil slick.
Although it’s been nice to get off the bike for a few days, we’ll be back on her soon enough, heading to Seattle next, to visit an old friend. We’ve had a mixed bag of weather, but none of it bad enough to stop us. A couple of close lightening strikes did give me pause.
If anyone`s ever seen the movie, “How the West was Won,“ it paints a pretty vivid picture of how people moved west across the country in search of land or fame and fortune. In those days folks had to travel by riverboat and horseback to reach the wild west. Cathryn and I did it by motorcycle.
Whether it’s Deadwood, South Dakota, middle of nowhere Minnesota, or a gas station on the highway, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve asked a question and have received the response, “I don’t know, I’m not from here.” Isn’t anyone from where they are anymore?
Milwaukee, Wisconsin…home of the Brewers. And I don’t mean the baseball team. Shlitz, Blatz, and Pabst put Milwaukee on the beer map years ago. The Harley Davidson Museum is now a tourist attraction for motorcycle riders from all parts of the globe. They have their world headquarters and a factory there. 
The old brewery buildings downtown have been converted to upscale condominiums. The city also converted other industrial buildings along the river into trendy shops and restaurants, creating the River Walk. It was hard to look at the old brewery buildings and not think about Laverne and Shirley.
Milwaukee was our first stop on our cross-country motorcycle trip. Our friends Greg and Brenda made the first leg of the ride with us and did the museum tour at HD. Cathryn tried out one of the bikes to get the real feel of riding a hawg, then her and I took a ride along the lakefront, where they set had off 4th of July fireworks the night before.
We stayed in the Astor, an old hotel downtown that has been refurbished to include trendy apartments.
I am fifty-seven years old and I still get goosebumps during the grande finale of the Detroit/Windsor International Fireworks. Cathryn and I were both impressed by this years’ display, and think it was the best ever.
450 different types of fireworks – 1,100 shells blowing up in 24 minutes should impress anyone. It’s one of the largest fireworks displays in the world, and it’s delivered to our riverfront annually, Ford being the latest sponsor.
This is an excerpt from Ed’s Book, A Casual Traveler
Conch shells lay in water, along beaches everywhere
Line gardens, paths, and porch stair.
Since I started posting pictures of doors that I’ve taken from different places around the world, I have noticed that I’m not the only admirer. In honor of all you door fans out there, I’m posting another excerpt from my book, A Casual Traveler.
This story is an excerpt from Ed’s Book, “A Casual Traveler“
I had been following a storm in the middle of Nebraska, so the roads were a still a bit wet in spots. I came upon a barricaded bridge that was impassible. The problem was I didn’t recall seeing any previously posted detour signs; I had no choice but to turn around.
I retreated all the way back to the previous town and took the first crossroad, figuring I’d out flank the bridge by crossing the river further west. It was a lovely detour through cow country, but it brought me right back to the same closed bridge. Crap!
I formulated plan B and headed east along the river until I found another crossing. The road eventually veered away from the river, but then I came across a good road heading in the right direction that looked big enough to have a bridge on it.
Before long the road took a few turns, going into the middle of nowhere. Then I saw a sign that said, “Paved road ends ahead.” No biggie I thought, as I slowed to the appropriate speed and continued on the gravel. I thought I could see the river ahead and I hoped for a bridge.
Just when I was getting comfortable riding on the gravel, it disappeared and the road became dirt. It had been raining earlier in the day; you know what happens to dirt gets wet—it becomes mud.
I’d never ridden on a mud road before, but I had little choice. I immediately tried to gear down, but dared not brake; I was already sliding in the mud and doing a low-speed wobble. The front wheel only plowed and the wobble got worse. I knew I was going down; it was only a matter of how hard and where.
I slid closer and closer to the big creek on my left; that’s the way the road sloped. There was a grass shoulder, where I thought I might get some traction, or at least have a softer landing. I really didn’t want to crash in the creek.
Leaving Myrtle Beach and arriving in Charleston, was like graduating to college directly from grade school. Even though the city wasn’t on the way home, we just had to make the detour and experience this gem of the south. Luckily, the city managed to remain mostly unscathed during the U.S. civil war. The architectural beauty of the 18th and 19th century buildings will punch any history buff right in the solar plexus.
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