Effie and I have been to Bike Week in Daytona several times over the years. But, in 1997 we decided to skip Daytona that year because we just didn't have enough money to pay the bills. Living in the snow belt of New England, we resorted to using the trailer whenever we ventured down there. It's much safer than riding when you're at such a risk for getting caught in a snow storm. Only about 1 year out of every 6 or 7 end up being warm enough to avoid getting snowed on someplace during the trip down and back.

Then I had a stroke of luck. One of my company's customers called and asked me to come down to Georgia to do some work on their computer systems. I had gone on a business trip down there once before with my motorcycle, so I knew my boss would let me do it again. And, luckily for me, they wanted me down there on the week just after bike week. We had been having a pretty mild winter so far. I started holding my breath hoping the weather would hold out so I could finally get a chance to ride to Daytona.

Since my company reimburses you for mileage when you drive yourself on a business trip, I stood to collect about $720 and would only use about $150 worth of gas leaving me a little extra money to skip down to Daytona for Bike Week and then visit the customer in Georgia before heading home. With about 3 weeks of vacation time accumulated, I could even wait around for a few days if a snow storm interrupted my return ride home. Everything just fell into place nicely.

I waited until about 10:00 AM to head out that Saturday morning so the temperature could get above freezing. I don't usually ride if there's any chance of ice patches on the road. I bundled up as warm as I could and put my rainsuit on top of everything else. I've discovered that the rainsuit helps to keep the wind out and that makes a big difference when the wind is really cold.

I had crossed the border into Conneticut before I needed to stop for gas. While filling up, I noticed oil all over the lower right side of the engine. Checking around, it seemed to be dripping out of the air cleaner. I took the air filter off and looked inside to find a clean carb, but a lot of oil around the crankcase breather hose. I wiped everything down and made a note to keep an eye on it. I was hoping it was just a case of getting overfilled at the 45,000 mile service just done at the dealership. I know, if I did my own maintenance, I wouldn't have these types of problems. But, then I also wouldn't have as much time to ride.

The weather kept getting warmer the farther south I got. By evening, I was into Maryland, the temperature was up to 55 F and I was just about ready to peel off a layer of clothes when it started raining. Since I already had my rainsuit on, I decided to skip dinner and try to make it into Virginia before stopping for the night. About an hour later, I was running low on gas, it had gotten dark, the rain was coming down in buckets, the traffic had become nightmarish (just outside of Baltimore), the face shield of my full coverage helmet kept fogging up so bad I couldn't see a thing, and I was getting uncomfortably warm inside all of those layers of clothes. I pulled off the highway and called it a day.

Day2: The sky was blue and it had warmed up about 5 more degrees since the night before. I still donned my rainsuit though, because the roads were wet and puddled. I've been riding long enough to know that road spray can get you soaked in a hurry under these conditions. Having gone to bed early and gotten a good night's sleep, I headed out at 6:00 AM.

At the 1st gas stop 2 hours later, the roads had gotten dry enough for me to take the rainsuit off. Each gas stop got even warmer and forced the removal of another layer of clothing. By noon, I was down to my T-Shirt and looking forward for a great day of riding. A few hours later in South Carolina, the helmet took it's place strapped on to the sissy bar.

I hadn't planned on having such nice weather so soon. At the next couple of gas stops, I searched the store shelves for some sun block. I was starting to get sun-burned. With temps in the eighties and my snow-white skin, I was in danger of getting roasted. All of the store owners had the same story... "We don't stock that stuff in February". Finally, half way across Georgia, I found some left over from last summer.

I could have made it all the way to Daytona on the 2nd day. But, my hotel reservation wasn't until the next day. So, I stopped for the night in SE Georgia.

Day3: Arriving at the hotel before noon, I started getting checked in when the clerk says there's a problem with my reservation. He tells me the travel agent booked my room at the regular rate of $59.00 a night. But, this is Bike Week (Duh!) and he couldn't let me have the room for less than $179.00 a night! I actually wasn't that surprised... As I said before, Effie and I had been down for Bike Week several times. I knew about the price gouging. I was just hoping the travel agent had stumbled on some kind of loophole.

So, I called Effie and talked her into finding me another room. She managed to get me into the Hilton down in Daytona Beach Shores for about $50.00 a night less than they had quoted me the previous year. Note: The Hilton saves the best deals to offer during Bike Week when they're in danger of having empty rooms. They really gouge anyone trying to make reservations in advance.

I made the rounds to BootHill Saloon to pick up a new T-Shirt and wandered up and down Main Street most of the day checking out the vendors. Bought my very first "I rode mine - Daytona '97" pin and patch set. A real badge of honor among some bikers. Later, I headed out by the race track to have the rack of lamb at "The Outback Steakhouse" for dinner. They call it "The Outback Rack". It's really good, you should try it sometime.

Day 4: Earl, "The VT Rebel" aka "The Midnight Rider" a high school buddy of mine was scheduled to arrive at the Abate campground. He finally got there just before dark. He'd been trying for weeks to get some girl to drive down with him from Vermont. He finally got an offer from a petite little black chick who worked at "Hooters" in Plattsburgh NY. Kind of a strange arrangement. Her boyfriend dropped her off at Earl's house and sent her off with Earl to Bike Week. Go figure...

Earl needed some time to setup his trailer and get his bike unloaded from the truck. He declined any help from me saying he'd done it alone plenty of times and just asked me to take Trudy for a ride and he'd catch up with us in a couple of hours. We made arrangements to meet later at "The Cabbage Patch" after he got his old panhead fired up.

When I got to "The Cabbage Patch" everyone in the place stopped talking and turned to look when we walked in. Trudy is attractive, but I suspect the color of her skin was what caught everyone's attention. I hadn't really thought about it until then, but you don't usually see many minorities hanging out at biker bars. Within minutes, 3 security guards came over and asked if she was my Ol' Lady. "Nope", I said, "just some chick I was entertaining for a few hours". They offered to help if I encountered any trouble. They seemed far more worried than I was.

It wasn't long before Trudy was shooting pool with 2 guys and this nice looking blonde who kept mooning everyone. Seems she had fallen asleep on top of the camper and then rolled off the side and landed on her butt. She was showing everybody in the place the huge bruise on her backside. Yeah, it sure was purple.

It was after midnight. Earl was several hours overdue. And Trudy decided to go for a ride with Steve on his Kawasaki down to the beach where they intended to watch the sunrise. She told me not to wait up. She'd find her own way back to the campground. I woke up Earl to tell him where Trudy was. Seems his panhead's old 6 volt battery was in dire need of being replaced. We agreed to make plans for the next day over breakfast at IHOP.

Day 4: After a late breakfast, Earl asked me to keep Trudy company again for a few hours so he could get his battery replaced. He had called the good folks over at Miller's and they had a battery on the charger waiting for him. Since Trudy had been up for about 28 hours straight, I told her to take a nap in my room while I went for a ride on the beach. I didn't want her nodding off, falling off the back of my bike and getting hurt. I wondered if the guys at work would believe me when I told them I had a Hooter's waitress sleeping in my room during Bike Week.

Earl called around 2 and woke up Trudy who found me drinking a mimosa out on the balcony. He was getting friendly with a group of college chicks over at Hooter's. Trudy wanted me to take her over so she could try to earn a little extra money while she was down there. I left Trudy there with Earl while I went up to Bunnell to visit my grandparents who live with my Aunt Joyce and her husband.

We spent the next couple of days seeing all of the sights, visiting all of the bars, going to the bike shows, and checking out the swap meets. Trudy made friends with some of the guys at the campground and we hardly saw her the rest of the week. Wednesday night we stopped for gas in Ormond when Earl said he was hearing funny noises coming from his front end. His front brake hadn't worked in years and he thought something might have come loose inside the brake drum. So, he decided to head back to the campground before the wheel seized up on him or left him broken down beside the road.

I stopped in the next morning to see if I could help Earl get the panhead fixed. He had it blocked up on a couple of milk crates and was trying to get the front wheel off. He couldn't get the axle out. I asked if the wheel bearing might have galled and welded itself to the axle. He said he had checked that already and the bearings seemed fine. I grabbed the wheel and wiggled it. It had almost one inch of play at the front edge of the tire. Bearings don't look too good to me Earl...

He was going to leave the next day anyway to go see the NASCAR races up in Atlanta on the way home, so he loaded his bike up and headed out. Figured he'd fix it when he got home.

Friday night, my stepson drove over from U. Tampa, and spent the day with me Saturday. He'd never been to Bike Week before, so this was pretty new to him. He was pretty impressed with all of the bikes, biker bars, and babes.

The week was over too soon. But, the weather had been beautiful and I certainly couldn't complain.

Early Sunday morning, I started for Georgia. I had to be there Monday morning to visit our customer in Warner Robins. I gassed up before leaving town. The damned gas pump shut-off failed and I got gasoline all over the bike. The clerk at the counter didn't have any towels or rags for me to use. But, a nice old guy in a pickup gave me a handful from behind his seat to clean up the mess. I was pissed and distracted by this little mishap and I drove off with my favorite gloves on the seat. They're lost forever.

Near the Georgia border, I stopped for gas again and another rider pulled up to the pumps next to me. He pointed out a nail stuck in my rear tire. SHIT! No patch kit and who knows whether any parts stores are open here in Bible belt country on Sunday. I pulled the nail out and there was only a little bit of air leaking from the pinhole it left. I grabbed a can of Fix-a-Flat from the store and tossed it in my saddlebag just in case. Fortunately, there was a parts store open in the next town and I picked up a tire plug kit.

I stopped every hour or so and checked the tire pressure as I continued on my way to Warner Robins. It was only losing about 1 lb. per hour, so I decided to leave it alone until I reached my destination. I was booked at a motel just across the street from the customer site, so worst case, I could walk to work and have a week to get the tire replaced after I got there.

The tire held up long enough to get to Warner Robins. I put the plug in when I arrived and found a Harley Davidson Dealership in Macon the next day. The nice folks up there had a tire and fitted me into their schedule that same day.

The weather continued to be great for the entire week I was in Georgia. Beautiful and warm. I finished my work on Thursday, leaving me with a 3 day weekend to get home. The forecast for the weekend was for bitter cold in the North East. So, I decided to get as far north as I could Friday and if necessary, finish the trip by riding just during the warm hours in the middle of the day. Our good friends Steve and Laura offered to come meet me halfway and pick me up in their van. And, of course, I could just stop and rent a U-Haul. But, I really wanted to finish the ride even if just for bragging rights.

I managed to get as far as Maryland, staying in the same motel just outside of Baltimore. But, it was getting pretty cold. It was down to 35 F when I checked in for the night. The cold air blasting me in the face made my eyes really blood-shot. By the time I stopped, my vision was getting blurry.

I took a long hot bath and got a restful night's sleep. In the morning, the temperature had dropped to 30 F and I still had 9 hours riding to do before I would be home. I had read about hypothermia warning signs and decided to wear every piece of warm clothing I had and plug along , stopping to warm up anytime I started exhibiting signs of hypothermia.

In the literature I read, the first three signs of hypothermia are: 1. uncontrolled shivering. 2. vision problems, and 3. disorientation. Different people have different tolerances for cold and not everyone gets all 3 symptoms. So, it's important to be watching for any of them

On previous rides I've taken in cold weather, it seemed as though once I stopped to get warm, I would get more chilled even faster when I headed back out.

So, I was determined to not stop unless I really was in danger of hypothermia. I just kept pushing on getting colder and colder, watching carefully for any of the symptoms. It seemed a little warmer when I got to NYC. But, probably not much. There were lots of icicles hanging down from the tunnel entrances. I took the more coastal route to stay near the warming effects of the ocean and didn't turn north until I got to I-91 in Conneticut.

That's when it got really cold. I had to keep shaking my hands to get the circulation going in my fingers. When I got to Worcester (only about 1 hour from home), I was torn between stopping and waiting to see if the weather Sunday would be warmer. Or, calling for a ride from someone. Or, just toughing it out for one more hour. I had no idea how cold it was, but the previous day's forecast was for even colder temps on Sunday. Since I still wasn't experiencing any hypothermia symptoms, I just kept going.

I noticed the first sign of hypothermia as I was approaching the exit in my hometown. I was uncertain about whether I was taking the right exit. As I headed down the ramp, I had trouble remembering whether I needed to turn right or left at the end of the ramp (actually, my house is in the neighborhood straight ahead). I was glad there was only 1 mile to go.

As I roared into the yard, I pulled the clutch and revved the bike a few times hoping Effie would hear my pipes and open the door so I could just ride right in. Sure enough, by the time I was around the back of the house, I saw the cellar lights flick on through the window and heard her unlatching the back door. Parking the bike and pulling off my helmet, all of a sudden everything looked foggy white. The warm air inside the house made my eyes cloud over and I could hardly see a thing. But, I was home and I just needed a warm bath and some hot soup to straighten me out.

Effie told me later that she wasn't expecting me until the next day. So, when she heard the pipes, her first thought was "Sounds like some other clown is out there riding in the cold today".