Northern_Cal_2004_P16

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Slabbing on the Interstate

Redding is a big city with all the modern amenities of such. There were also a lot of sportbikes heading west in the direction we came from. We fueled up, lubed our chains, did the restroom run, topped up our water, called the wife, then we were off into the long slab home.

There isn�t really much to describe about this portion of the trip. Just a few highlights and observations.

Anytime the Interstate gets us out in the countryside, drivers seem to behave the way they should. Most of them try not to crowd the fast lane and move over and let us pass when we come up behind them. But as soon as we get nearer a populated area, the lane discipline seem to deteriorate! On several occasions, which happened near the bigger cities, we�d get stuck behind a line of cars in the fast lane which was being blocked by some idiot dawdling along at 70 mph! It was extremely frustrating. Sometimes I wish I had one of those things that Sean was telling me about: a windshield breaker cops use, which is basically a hardened rod that extends out suddenly to bash a car window. Just ride up next to the fool holding everyone up and CRASH! Hee-hee.

Right: Ken gives a big thumps up on Highway 299. As we got closer to Redding, the temperature rose up, making riding a bit more comfortable.

Above: Hanging out at a rest stop along Interstate 5.

Long haul trucks can be your friend, but they can also be your enemy. Sometimes they warn others of the presence of The Fuzz. Giving us time to slow down or at least be aware. But damn! When a truck goes to make a pass on slower traffic, they usually do so at 2 mph OVER the slower traffic! So everyone is forced to line up behind the passing truck, buffeting in their wake, until the truck finishes their pass about 5 minutes later! Why don�t they just accelerate and pass as quickly as possible? Very annoying.

Ken was on a mission to get home to his beautiful little girl. I can�t blame him. I wanted to get home too. Ken lead most of the way and he was moving. 95 mph was his chosen speed but more than a few times we got it up to 100 mph. This was just fine with me because there was plenty of room to do it. What amazed me was how Ken could do it for extended periods on a NAKED motorcycle! I had an opportunity to ride his Guzzi and that bike had some vibrations too. How Ken did it for 15+ hours impressed me. What was really funny, twice during the trip, a CHP car came up behind Ken while he was moving at 85+, the CHP would turn on his lights, and by them I was sure Ken would get a citation, but each time the CHP turned off the freeway and go another direction! It happened twice! Another funny thing was a few cars along the way would try to keep up with us. They TRIED anyways! Right before we stopped at Bakersfield, a 1990's Lincoln Continental filled with 6 guys was trying to maintain 95 mph to stay with us. I was following behind the Lincoln as it tried to stay behind Ken. When the Interstate would gently curve, the Lincoln would start wallowing on its suspension! It was hilarious! We whicked it up to near 100 and that got rid of the Lincoln. Heh-heh.

We stopped at Sacramento for gas. Sacramento to me was anti-climactic. After being in the huge city of San Francisco, and Los Angeles, one would think the capital of California would be even more expansive. Well, Sacramento is small. One minute we were cruising along the delta, then we were going by residential areas, then suddenly, we were downtown. It was however, pretty clean, modern, and pleasant looking. I wish we had more time to roam the city. We didn�t see Arnie nor his entourage. By the way, we saw a rider on a Buell fitted with bags and I swore I saw that bike at Fortuna for the Sport-Touring.net meeting.

We stopped at Stockton, CA for lunch. Apologies to anyone who resides there but the area we went to was a dump! There were a lot of choppers riding around there with riders wearing beanie helmets. We did find Eddie�s Pizza which served good pepperoni. And, they had a really cute African-American girl at the counter.

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