We got back on the 101 freeway for another 30 minutes. I almost missed the turnoff to Highway 154 and had to quickly swerve and exit off the 101. The drizzle and lack of sunshine was making me sleepy! On the 154, cars formed a long caravan as they held each other up. Anytime the weather turns even halfway bad in California, driver skill deteriorates to an all time low. People just are not used to driving under adverse conditions simply because adverse conditions rarely ever happen. That day going up the 154 towards the Santa Barbara Mountains was no exceptions. There were no opportunities to pass since whenever a passing lane (using the opposing lane) materialized, there were cars going the other way to block our path. So, for the next 45 minutes or so the going was slow and painful.
As we approached peak elevation on the 154, just passed Lake Cuchama, a thick fog bank moved in to ruin what was left of a miserable ride. Fortunately for me, there could have been a hurricane and it would not have dampened my spirits any. After all, I was warm and dry in my leathers. My Hayabusa�s fairings where doing an excellent job of protecting me from the elements. The only part that got soaked was my helmet, and that wasn�t too much of a bother. I couldn�t say the same for Dean & Patty though. By the time we made it down the bottom of the 154 in Santa Barbara, Dean was pissed. I can understand his frustration because his jeans were wet from his thighs down to his ankles. I wanted to laugh but I didn�t think he would have had a sense of humor about it at that time. He actually didn�t say the words but it sounded like he was blaming me for taking the road and getting him and Patty wet and cold. Well, there was no way I was going to know the road conditions that day. On the way over to San Simeon last Friday when I was riding with Rye and Kelly, the weather up at the 154 was warm and sunny. So how was I to foresee the total 180 degree change?
We gassed up in Santa Barbara and parted ways. Dean and Patty had planned to visit their daughter who was attending California State University in Santa Barbara. I got back on the 101 freeway towards home with about 150 miles to go. If only my rear tire would stay together for another 150 miles.
This part of the 101 freeway in the outskirts of southeastern Santa Barbara County was actually quite pleasant. The freeway hugged the coastline so the scenery was nice. In addition, the fog and drizzle had dissipated out there so I was happy as a clam cruising along at 80 mph. The condition of my rear Dunlop was a constant worry however. I had visions of the tire blowing up at speed and throwing me off my bike onto oncoming traffic. And what if the tire went flat somewhere in the middle of Los Angeles near LAX? Crap! That would definitely ruin my day! Luckily, it was only 1PM Sunday, and the usual crowds that turned LA�s freeways into giant parking lots were not in attendance yet. So, much to my surprise the ride through L.A. was fast with only little congestion. I only needed to split lanes for a few miles or so.
Somewhere in the city of Wilmington, I smelled what I thought was burning rubber. Oh shit! I looked down at my tires. Please don�t fail me now. Wilmington was a bad town to break down in. Many years ago, my car got stolen and was recovered in�.yup! Wilmington. It was a very ugly, crime ridden town surrounded by oil refineries and way too close to the industrial sections of Long Beach. Yuck! Luckily for me, it was all my imagination. My rear tire held together all the way home to Orange County. I thanked my lucky stars.
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