I planned to visit the Wright-Patterson air force base, the largest air museum in the world near Dayton Ohio, where the Wright brothers first flew. But it was getting late so I stopped in Cambridge, not far from Norwich, and found a small Budget Inn at $35 a night, cost covered by the local police force! So many English town names over here! The bath was small, the water tepid and the decor circa 1960, but it was luxurious. I'd been averaging 350 mile days and covered 850 in the last two. It was one of the best cramped baths and softest of beds. Pitching the tent had become a little tedious lately!
One thing is certain in America, the coffee is always good and available everywhere, except for Budget Inns...
Early morning at a nearby gas station, a homeless guy admired my bike and my coffee. I couldn't offer him a lift to Kansas even if I wasn't carrying luggage, I was heading East. Everyone I meet in the US is so friendly I felt I had to return the favour and gave him my $17 change. A foreigner with a nice motorcycle often gives the impression of money, but it's everything I own. I don't have a house or a job either but I'm still better off than a lot of people. He hadn't eaten for two days.
It's been difficult to judge the time it takes to cover distances here, but I always plan to get ahead rather than fall behind, arriving in Potomac, Maryland a day early.
The ride across West Virginia into Maryland was beautiful, so many trees and noticeably fresher air over the mountains. My cousin Gillian was away for the weekend at her 50th school reunion, but her husband Alan (great name!) was the perfect host. I'd ridden 5000 miles since I last saw him in Seattle. Potomac is only a few miles from Washington DC but a world apart. A small village surrounded by trees and huge houses with two acres upwards. I relaxed outside watching his three horses, five deer and a fox wandering across the vast back yard!
Next day was a quiet Sunday in Washington DC, chauffeured by Alan who, having worked as a lawyer on Capitol Hill, knew everything about the city. There are no tall buildings as no building may be more than 20ft higher than the width of the street in front of it. Everywhere is spotlessly clean and many open spaces mean there are no crowds either. No neon signs or huge adverts for Coke or McDonalds. This is my kind of city! I had an obligatory pose for a photo outside the Whitehouse, not realising that the view we often see is actually the back of it, the front not quite so appealing.
Gillian arrived home late Sunday, so I didn't get to meet her until Monday afternoon when she returned from work. I'm lucky to have such a great family.
It was so nice to relax and have a couple of days off the bike, busying myself helping Alan scrape the loose paint from his shed and going for walks with the dog. I even got to see a Manchester United game in between all the political debates.
If it wasn't for the worsening oil leak, I had enough money left to stay in America another two or three weeks, but I need something to live on at home until I find a job, and I owe my dad for clearing my credit card bill for me!
So my flight was 9.40 PM Wednesday, and I'd planned to arrive in New York a day early to see the sights. I wasn't too keen on riding the bike across a busy city and decided to stay in Potomac another day, hoping to plan a proper visit to New York when I return someday.
I had a choice between Route 1 into Philadelphia, crossing several interesting towns, or Interstate 95, via the infamous New Jersey Turnpike. I had about 6 hours to cover 250 miles. Not knowing how long it would take on Route 1, chose the Interstate to make sure I had time to drop the bike at Valley Stream, Long Island. I smiled to myself when I saw a sign for New York. After 5 months of travelling I was actually going to make it! The Turnpike was reasonably quiet compared to the morning rush hour around DC, and I made it to Staten Island in good time. I was annoyed at being charged the same as cars across all the tolls, varying between $2 and $8, but they charge by the axle and I couldn't argue. Even if I could wheelie that far I still have two axles! A total of $24 in tolls, got me across Staten and Coney Island, where I could see the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building in the distance. I was running lower on fuel than I planned, due to the riding the high speed Interstate all day. I asked a guy how many miles left to JFK. He said 10 minutes. I needed to know exactly how many miles to work out the fuel because the bike needed to be almost empty for the flight home. I explained I needed to know the exact mileage. He told me it wouldn't be any more than 10 minutes. None the wiser I chose to put another gallon in the tank. The small busy streets around Valley Stream were a nightmare, especially as I arrived from a different junction than planned due to the fuel stop. As soon as I recognised a street name and got my bearings, I found the Berklay Building where I'd leave the bike. I disconnected the battery, sorted the luggage and left it in the capable hands of Greg. http://www.shipmybike.com/
The cost of flying the bike was around 20% higher than shipping, $1945 inc. customs and fuel surcharges etc. but only 1-2 weeks, opposed to 6-8 weeks in a container ship. I'd thought seriously about selling the bike to save money but if I don't get it home I'll feel like the trip wont be completed.
One of the guys offered a lift to JFK in a huge International truck. I had over 6 hours until my flight but I would be glad of the rest. Huge signs on the approach to the airport tell you which terminal the airlines fly from, in my case Aer Lingus, terminal 4. If you forget that, it's also colour coded, so we followed the blue lane to the blue terminal. Each terminal is like a small town with plenty to keep me occupied. A small chubby guy in a flat cap and over sized sunglasses was ordering a hot coffee. Could he have it hot? It must be hot, can't have it too hot. He kept repeating over and over until he got his coffee. He overheard me asking for a cappuccino.
"You're Russian, right?"
"No, English actually."
"But you have Russian relatives, right?"
"No, English."
"You must have grandparents who are Russian?"
"No, all English, from England, that's why I'm speaking with an English accent, I'm not Russian!"
"But you have such big hands!"
"Well, thanks for noticing but I don't think they're out or proportion..."
"Can you do this?" he asked, touching both earlobes with one hand.
"Er, no, not than I've ever..."
"I can! I'm an exception!"
"You certainly are! I believe my coffee is ready, nice to meet you." I shook his huge fat hand.
"Gardam! That's some mitt you have there! Have a nice flight!" He slapped me on the shoulder with his side of beef sized hand.
"Er thanks, I will!"
One thing is certain in America, the coffee is always good and available everywhere, except for Budget Inns...
Early morning at a nearby gas station, a homeless guy admired my bike and my coffee. I couldn't offer him a lift to Kansas even if I wasn't carrying luggage, I was heading East. Everyone I meet in the US is so friendly I felt I had to return the favour and gave him my $17 change. A foreigner with a nice motorcycle often gives the impression of money, but it's everything I own. I don't have a house or a job either but I'm still better off than a lot of people. He hadn't eaten for two days.
It's been difficult to judge the time it takes to cover distances here, but I always plan to get ahead rather than fall behind, arriving in Potomac, Maryland a day early.
The ride across West Virginia into Maryland was beautiful, so many trees and noticeably fresher air over the mountains. My cousin Gillian was away for the weekend at her 50th school reunion, but her husband Alan (great name!) was the perfect host. I'd ridden 5000 miles since I last saw him in Seattle. Potomac is only a few miles from Washington DC but a world apart. A small village surrounded by trees and huge houses with two acres upwards. I relaxed outside watching his three horses, five deer and a fox wandering across the vast back yard!
Next day was a quiet Sunday in Washington DC, chauffeured by Alan who, having worked as a lawyer on Capitol Hill, knew everything about the city. There are no tall buildings as no building may be more than 20ft higher than the width of the street in front of it. Everywhere is spotlessly clean and many open spaces mean there are no crowds either. No neon signs or huge adverts for Coke or McDonalds. This is my kind of city! I had an obligatory pose for a photo outside the Whitehouse, not realising that the view we often see is actually the back of it, the front not quite so appealing.
Gillian arrived home late Sunday, so I didn't get to meet her until Monday afternoon when she returned from work. I'm lucky to have such a great family.
It was so nice to relax and have a couple of days off the bike, busying myself helping Alan scrape the loose paint from his shed and going for walks with the dog. I even got to see a Manchester United game in between all the political debates.
If it wasn't for the worsening oil leak, I had enough money left to stay in America another two or three weeks, but I need something to live on at home until I find a job, and I owe my dad for clearing my credit card bill for me!
So my flight was 9.40 PM Wednesday, and I'd planned to arrive in New York a day early to see the sights. I wasn't too keen on riding the bike across a busy city and decided to stay in Potomac another day, hoping to plan a proper visit to New York when I return someday.
I had a choice between Route 1 into Philadelphia, crossing several interesting towns, or Interstate 95, via the infamous New Jersey Turnpike. I had about 6 hours to cover 250 miles. Not knowing how long it would take on Route 1, chose the Interstate to make sure I had time to drop the bike at Valley Stream, Long Island. I smiled to myself when I saw a sign for New York. After 5 months of travelling I was actually going to make it! The Turnpike was reasonably quiet compared to the morning rush hour around DC, and I made it to Staten Island in good time. I was annoyed at being charged the same as cars across all the tolls, varying between $2 and $8, but they charge by the axle and I couldn't argue. Even if I could wheelie that far I still have two axles! A total of $24 in tolls, got me across Staten and Coney Island, where I could see the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building in the distance. I was running lower on fuel than I planned, due to the riding the high speed Interstate all day. I asked a guy how many miles left to JFK. He said 10 minutes. I needed to know exactly how many miles to work out the fuel because the bike needed to be almost empty for the flight home. I explained I needed to know the exact mileage. He told me it wouldn't be any more than 10 minutes. None the wiser I chose to put another gallon in the tank. The small busy streets around Valley Stream were a nightmare, especially as I arrived from a different junction than planned due to the fuel stop. As soon as I recognised a street name and got my bearings, I found the Berklay Building where I'd leave the bike. I disconnected the battery, sorted the luggage and left it in the capable hands of Greg. http://www.shipmybike.com/
The cost of flying the bike was around 20% higher than shipping, $1945 inc. customs and fuel surcharges etc. but only 1-2 weeks, opposed to 6-8 weeks in a container ship. I'd thought seriously about selling the bike to save money but if I don't get it home I'll feel like the trip wont be completed.
One of the guys offered a lift to JFK in a huge International truck. I had over 6 hours until my flight but I would be glad of the rest. Huge signs on the approach to the airport tell you which terminal the airlines fly from, in my case Aer Lingus, terminal 4. If you forget that, it's also colour coded, so we followed the blue lane to the blue terminal. Each terminal is like a small town with plenty to keep me occupied. A small chubby guy in a flat cap and over sized sunglasses was ordering a hot coffee. Could he have it hot? It must be hot, can't have it too hot. He kept repeating over and over until he got his coffee. He overheard me asking for a cappuccino.
"You're Russian, right?"
"No, English actually."
"But you have Russian relatives, right?"
"No, English."
"You must have grandparents who are Russian?"
"No, all English, from England, that's why I'm speaking with an English accent, I'm not Russian!"
"But you have such big hands!"
"Well, thanks for noticing but I don't think they're out or proportion..."
"Can you do this?" he asked, touching both earlobes with one hand.
"Er, no, not than I've ever..."
"I can! I'm an exception!"
"You certainly are! I believe my coffee is ready, nice to meet you." I shook his huge fat hand.
"Gardam! That's some mitt you have there! Have a nice flight!" He slapped me on the shoulder with his side of beef sized hand.
"Er thanks, I will!"
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