Bucket Lists.

Part 1

9 years ago today, I was in the middle of checking off a big item on my Bucket List.

I had always wanted to ride a motorcycle along the Pacific Coast Highway in California. I’d only seen pictures of it, or scenes from movies, and I figured the best way to experience the most beautiful route in the United States would be on a bike.

My son Nick surprised me on my birthday, announcing he was renting me a Harley Davidson, and setting aside a week for us to experience the ride together. He had a bike at the time, and was in between jobs, so the timing was perfect.

My Harley Ultra Limited was waiting at a shop in Long Beach, CA, which is south of Los Angeles. We rode there together on Nick’s Harley-Davidson Sportster Iron 883, a beautiful bike with a blacked-out look, and a black powder-coated 883cc engine.

The Ultra Limited is a touring bike designed for long-distance travel and it is the most comfortable motorcycle I ever rode. It’s also the heaviest, coming in at about 900 lbs. I was used to riding a smaller and lighter Kawasaki Vulcan 750. At 70 mph, it was whining. The Harley didn’t break a sweat at 70 mph, and the bassy potato-potato-potato sound made me feel like I was sitting on a 747.

After I did all the paperwork and insurance at the rental place, the guy told me he needed me to do a couple laps around the parking lot so he could make sure I knew how to ride. I was a nervous wreck getting on a bike that big and heavy, especially since I had sold my (much smaller) bike several years before but I did and I passed the test. I told the guy I was nervous and he said, “Normal. That bike will get smaller every day you ride it.” And he was right.

We set out for our first stop at the base of Yosemite National Park, about six hours north. Nick had rented us a room for the night, and it was our only plan for the rest of the week. We had decided we’d ride as long as we felt like it, and stop when we felt like it, and see what ever we felt like seeing. Nick had suggested riding up into Yosemite to see Half Dome and then we’d head toward the Pacific the next day.

The route began on Interstate 410. If you’re from California, it’s “The 410”. The 410 to The 10 to The 5. The route goes from 10 to 20 lanes wide, depending on where you are. For comparison, the State of Delaware would be about 30 lanes wide. It’s also bumper to bumper pretty much all the time and everybody is in a hurry. Especially the guys on motorcycles who ride between the cars on the lines. It’s legal there, for some reason. Nick was the lead bike and he asked me if I wanted to ride between the cars and I told him, no, I would rather live.

After a few hours we were out of the heavy traffic and I started breathing again, and it was time to get gas. I pulled up to the pumps, put own the kickstand, and reached for my wallet to pay for the gas.

Only problem was my left hand, which was operating the clutch, and was the victim of me holding on for dear life the past three hours, wouldn’t cooperate. I guess it was a cramp, but every time I tried to open it…it clamped shut. I had no control over it. This, clearly, was going to present a major problem trying to ride the bike the rest of the way, and it was actually comical except for the whole ruin-our-trip-thing.

Nick ran into the store and bought me a bottle of water and a banana, and miracle of all miracles, it solved the problem within a couple of minutes.

We made it to our little cabin around nightfall, sat around a campfire and looked forward with anticipation to this once-in-a-lifetime trip together. It was going to be a great week.

To avoid writing a book instead of a blog, I’ll finish the story in tomorrow’s Substack.

Tomorrow…we ride the Pacific Coast Highway.