tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85225320583366665152024-02-08T12:07:51.578-08:00United States Black Cavalry Family "USBCF"The mission of the United States Black Cavalry Family (USBCF) is to partner with local communities to provide hands on voluntary assistance to organizations supporting the needs of veterans and the welfare of families existing in or near poverty. Additionally, our mission is to educate impoverished families to enhance their emotional, social, and spiritual well being.USBCFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02629564104313658692noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8522532058336666515.post-6772735178188897652018-11-24T17:51:00.003-08:002018-11-25T07:59:24.271-08:00<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A SALUTE TO AN EXCEPTIONAL ORGANIZATION</span></b><b><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></b></h2>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>I am honored to render this salute to a very special organization,</b></span></b></h3>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>The
Missing In America Project</b>.</span></b></h3>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Photos Credits: Sean Verma "The Vermanator" - </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">MIAP Supporter</span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I took off from work on Friday and headed
toward Washington, DC to attend a special meeting. No I’m no big government
official or lobbyist or anything of that kind. I’m just an old military retiree
who had been asked to lend a helping hand. You see about six months ago I
received a call from a friend of mine in California. His name is Fred Salanti
and he happens to be the National Executive Director & President of the
Missing In America Project (M.I.A.P.).</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;">We had worked together in the past on several
occasions and he wanted to just give me a heads up on a mission that they may
be undertaking in the DC area. Fred has a way of asking you to do things…
without really asking. So before I knew what was to happen, he had already
convinced me to be ready to participate. Fred explained to me that Brigitte
Corbin, M.I.A.P. Region 8 Coordinator, and her team in the Virginia area would
be overseeing the entire mission and that she would contact me when details
were completed. The United States Black Cavalry Family (USBCF) had worked with
Brigitte and her team in the past at both Arlington and Quantico. We knew
immediately that things would be handled professionally. So I stood by for
weeks and simply waited for her call…..and her call did come</span>.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Closing in on our Nation’s Capital the
traffic thickened and eventually came to a stop. I had been on the road for
over four hours and had hoped to beat the traffic around DC but that rarely
happens. Arriving at the meeting a few minutes late I was greeted with a hug
from Brigitte and with smiles from a lot of familiar faces including that of
James “Dragon 6” Rolle, a member of our United States Black Cavalry Family, who
had driven all the way from Augusta, Georgia to help with this mission. Members
of Brigitte’s team and those of the “Brothers in Arms MC” reached out to shake
my hand and then we got down to business.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-isioQi4Y6l4/W_rEqee9UTI/AAAAAAAABUA/AGHXn759y9wVQE_6P8lUymM0Zhb6RrM5QCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_4528-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="721" data-original-width="1600" height="288" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-isioQi4Y6l4/W_rEqee9UTI/AAAAAAAABUA/AGHXn759y9wVQE_6P8lUymM0Zhb6RrM5QCLcBGAs/s640/IMG_4528-2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DjSJi3E4TUo/W_nyYZuAJkI/AAAAAAAABQ8/OZKmPhII8zMN9udKMuHHmK5yUJj6_81DwCLcBGAs/s1600/46418522_2083168575039986_7440257518573453312_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DjSJi3E4TUo/W_nyYZuAJkI/AAAAAAAABQ8/OZKmPhII8zMN9udKMuHHmK5yUJj6_81DwCLcBGAs/s320/46418522_2083168575039986_7440257518573453312_o.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Some of you may not be aware” were the words
that Brigitte used to start the meeting. Then she went on to explain that over
the past year she and her team and the executive staff of the Missing In
America Project have been working with the National Park Service (NPS) on a
very special mission. She further stated that all of the hard work had
culminated into a five year renewable agreement between the two organizations
that would provide for the inurnment of cremated human remains left at the
Vietnam Veterans Memorial, also known as the Vietnam Wall. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tfga35GijBw/W_nyiZn95NI/AAAAAAAABRE/F_9LGeE3y2c3qoz_saCQMr0lJgb7g-TtACLcBGAs/s1600/46493222_2083168478373329_6167837804609929216_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tfga35GijBw/W_nyiZn95NI/AAAAAAAABRE/F_9LGeE3y2c3qoz_saCQMr0lJgb7g-TtACLcBGAs/s320/46493222_2083168478373329_6167837804609929216_o.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Many
of you reading this may not have known that cremains of veterans have been left
at “The Vietnam Wall” since 1989. They have been left by family and friends.
They have been left in all types of boxes and bags of many different shapes and
sizes, concealed in vials and bottles and even attached to bouquets of flowers
and letters of love. The National Park Service has collected, categorized, and
stored these veteran’s cremains for years. But now with the agreement in place,
the Missing in America Project has taken possession of 75 of these cremated
remains from the National Park Service and has insured their inurnment with
full military honors.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Now knowing the full extent of our mission,
we were all ready for Brigitte to assign our individual duties for Saturday.
Her team had already accomplished dry runs to the church and determined where
the bikes and cars would be parked and where and how the cremains would be
displayed. Before she could ask, the Brothers in Arms MC and the USBCF had
already worked out the details of what we would do to assist. It was a total
teamwork effort in the meeting with everyone focused on one objective, the
“precious cargo”. The meeting ended with a decision to all gather in the hotel
lobby at 7am to begin transferring the cremains to the vans. Then before
breaking up Brigitte took us to the room where the 75 cremains were placed for
the night. Seeing so many urns at one time and reading some of the notes that
were left with them was a very sobering experience. It quickly brought about
the reality of what we were being asked to do. It would be an honorable
undertaking.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Jan arrived at about 9:30pm. She worked her
regular schedule that day then drove down that night alone from Jersey. I
briefed her on the meeting and the need for us to be downstairs early the next
morning. We were up and dressed on time, loaded our two cars and then went to
the breakfast area to introduce Jan to everyone. </span><span style="background-color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Some of the Virginia team had
already departed for the cemetery. The rest of us poured our coffee then began
the delicate assignment of transferring the cremains to the awaiting vans. With
all of us working together, it didn’t take long. By 7:15am we were leaving the
hotel parking lot 15 minutes ahead of schedule.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7R-XuOdL3MU/W_nbbyYilhI/AAAAAAAABNA/8w3amjW4u3Q4H9EICVB3YKcPfdONX0lCACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_4544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7R-XuOdL3MU/W_nbbyYilhI/AAAAAAAABNA/8w3amjW4u3Q4H9EICVB3YKcPfdONX0lCACLcBGAs/s400/IMG_4544.JPG" width="400" /></span></a><span style="color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Twelve cars with lights flashing, one behind
the other, weaved their way through traffic for 20 miles from the hotel in Stafford,
Va. to the country setting of Woodbine Cemetery in Manassas. Grounds personnel
were still preparing the ceremony area when we arrived. Hot coffee and donuts
sat on the hood of one of the team members’ cars. It was needed as the
temperature struggled to get into the 40s.</span><span style="background-color: black; color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="background-color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Zurrian Bennett, one of the first to
join the USBCF was waiting there with his youngest son to greet us. Moments
later word was received that a hand was needed to get the tables and chairs
down to the ceremony area.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;">Without hesitation everyone present climbed
the church stairs to the storage area and began carrying the required tables
and chairs downstairs to an awaiting truck. Then under the direction of
Brigitte we lined the tables, covered them with white and blue cloths, and then
began offloading the cremains from the vans and carefully placing them on the
tables so that each of the 75, regardless of size, would be visible to those in
attendance. </span> </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As the roar of the bikes were heard in the
distance, Brigitte moved to the parking lot to greet the guest speaker, Ms.
Patricia Trap, Acting Superintendent, National Mall and Memorial Parks and
other dignitaries. The Brothers-at-Arms MC rotated to their assigned areas to
assure the safe parking of bikes and cars and the United States Black Cavalry,
now joined by John and Hilda Barfield from our West Virginia Family, positioned
ourselves behind each of the four tables. Virginia MIAP member stood by to
relieve us if necessary and to guide the attendees to the viewing area. We were
all positioned as planned the night before. The hard work of the M.I.A.P. was
about to come to fruition. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Army and Marine Honor Guard stood by as attendees
formed a line and began viewing the cremains spaced equally upon the four
tables. </span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JotPfG0LREI/W_niycbIAMI/AAAAAAAABOA/kmDaPKqrTPUvvxOOtb4Su4ImlUwdqtGzwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_4761.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JotPfG0LREI/W_niycbIAMI/AAAAAAAABOA/kmDaPKqrTPUvvxOOtb4Su4ImlUwdqtGzwCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_4761.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Bugler waited patiently on a small rise just outside
of the tent. Some attendees brought pictures of their departed friends. One in
particular had to be consoled by Jan as he carried a picture of his friend at
his side and struggled to hold back tears. Nearly all of those passing the
tables took the time to simply say “thank you” or to extend a firm handshake. As
the line diminished and the seats filled, Brigitte moved toward the mic to
start the formal service.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The ceremony was short but dignified.
Brigitte welcomed everyone, Don Reid, M.I.A.P. National Chaplain gave the Invocation
and remarks were heard from the guest speaker, Ms. Patricia Trap, who
personally thanked all who attended and in particular Brigitte and her team and
the Missing In America Project for all that they had done and will do in the
future. Silence moved over the gathering as the honor guard stepped into place
and rendered a final salute by unfolding and then refolding the American flag,
once by the Marines and then again by the Army. </span><br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eEw1d3iw7UM/W_n2TVTbdqI/AAAAAAAABSI/bB6k7-YKmAwE5HZUAHXy8KnFMLXGXu65gCLcBGAs/s1600/46495397_10156703828360011_3163061139386925056_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eEw1d3iw7UM/W_n2TVTbdqI/AAAAAAAABSI/bB6k7-YKmAwE5HZUAHXy8KnFMLXGXu65gCLcBGAs/s400/46495397_10156703828360011_3163061139386925056_o.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Taps was then sounded by the American Legion
member standing on the rise and the flags were then presented, one to the
National Park Service and one to the gentleman that was holding tightly to a
picture of his friend. No one moved as Larry Brink and John Tutunjian, volunteers
with the Virginia MIAP, read the names of the identifiable cremains. A moment
of silence was held for the 27 who names were not known. Pastor Gene Wells of
Woodbine Church and Cemetery who was there working with us from early that
morning gave the Benediction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Some of the attendees returned to the tables
for more pictures, handshakes and to again say “thank you”. We held our
positions until the area cleared and when the fading sounds of the bikes
signaled the departure of most, the volunteers gathered at the grave site to
conduct our final assignment. The Virginia MIAP Team, The Brother in Arms
Motorcycle Club, and the United States Black Cavalry Family all joined together
to place the urns, vials, bottles and boxes into the vault. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NW0V0euFXVE/W_n2-sgrI5I/AAAAAAAABSY/ilU1sY-kdic2u7r9IMAw5qsPngAguBdVACLcBGAs/s1600/46488477_2142225715801611_2533110967458332672_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NW0V0euFXVE/W_n2-sgrI5I/AAAAAAAABSY/ilU1sY-kdic2u7r9IMAw5qsPngAguBdVACLcBGAs/s400/46488477_2142225715801611_2533110967458332672_n.jpg" width="300" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Jan was honored to place
the first and we all assisted with the remaining.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Our youngest member, 20
years old Xavier was experiencing his first ceremony. We hoped that there
would not be a need for another but we all knew that there will be. It took a
while to place the cremains exactly right in the vault so that they would all
fit but patience prevailed and when completed we all thanked each other,
reached out with hugs and handshakes and stood together as the grounds
personnel moved the top of the vault into place.</span></div>
</span><br />
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gN1u05tEeeY/W_n3FBCNAKI/AAAAAAAABSc/6mFb5bn9QYcEzAxnmAgRjOeg30SN4JTCgCLcBGAs/s1600/46458074_1912481415487236_8314930460262137856_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="1316" height="305" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gN1u05tEeeY/W_n3FBCNAKI/AAAAAAAABSc/6mFb5bn9QYcEzAxnmAgRjOeg30SN4JTCgCLcBGAs/s640/46458074_1912481415487236_8314930460262137856_o.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;">This mission was completed but others were
ongoing at different locations throughout the United States. We could say our
goodbyes for now but there would be more to come. So for all of you reading
this, you should be thankful that the Missing In America Project is in
existence and be willing to assist them when you are able to do so</span>.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I salute the M.I.A.P. for always staying true
to their stated purpose.</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The purpose of
the Missing in America Project (M.I.A.P.) is to locate, identify and inter the
unclaimed cremated remains of American veterans through the joint efforts of
private, state and federal organizations. To provide honor and respect to those
who have served this country by securing a final resting place for these
forgotten heroes.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My heartfelt thanks to all who were involved
in this mission, “The 75 from the Vietnam Memorial”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Love and Respect,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Thomas “TC” Costley<br />
Co-Founder/President<br />
United States Black Cavalry Family<br />
USBCF<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />USBCFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02629564104313658692noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8522532058336666515.post-36772820410276362762017-10-30T18:54:00.000-07:002017-11-25T13:45:25.972-08:00TC & JAN’S 2017 SUMMER BIKE TRIP<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">TC & JAN’S </span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2017 SUMMER BIKE TRIP</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>9 DAYS, 5018 MILES</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The garage door began to squeak as soon as I hit the button. Normally Harley and Chico would bark as soon as they hear that sound but we had put them in the kennel the night before. Walking outside I was immediately struck with the early warning of fall. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">I called inside to Jan to put on something heavy because it would be a chilly morning to ride. It was 0530hrs (5:30am) as I moved Jan’s bike outside. I had left mine outside hooked to the loaded trailer the night before. It was Saturday, dark, chilly and one month later in the year than the time we normally schedule for our bike vacations. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At 0630hrs (6:30am) we rolled out of the driveway. We had decided to wait the additional 30 minutes to allow less time riding in darkness. Our goal for the day was to make it to Bristol, Tennessee. Just for everyone’s information and so no one gets confused, the town of Bristol, TN and Bristol, VA are basically one in the same. They are only separated by the state line that runs directly down the center of Main Street.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our route would take us to the Pennsylvania Turnpike and west to the city of Carlisle for our first gas stop. There we would pick up I-81 south. But first we would contact my brother Mark in Maryland who planned to join us for the trip. Our plan was to call him after we fueled our bikes and he would then leave his home in Maryland and take I-70 west until it intersects with I-81. The plan worked perfectly. We were only a few minutes apart in arriving at the planned intersection. Without turning off any of the bikes, we continued back onto I-81, said hello to one another over the CBs and settled in for the day’s ride. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We have a routine on the road that works well for us. We keep a tight schedule. We leave the hotels at 0600hrs. We run tank to tank, normally 200 miles, before stopping. We have breakfast after the first tank, unless free breakfast is available at the hotel. In that case we eat first and then grab a snack in the late afternoon. We keep gas stops as gas stops, which means we gas up, use the rest room, hydrate and push on. In the evening we eat a good full meal and get a good night’s sleep. It was important to stick to the schedule this year because we had a lot of miles to cover in limited time. Jan and I both had just 9 days to complete the trip. Normally we build into the schedule a “down Day” just to relax but we would have to go without it for this year. We would even have to push a little harder up and down the hi-ways then we would normally do.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For the first day our routine worked really well. We got to Bristol, TN well ahead of schedule with plenty of daylight left. I decided to move things up a little and incorporate the riding of “The Snake” on the first day instead of waiting for the next. “The Snake” is hi-way 421 running from Bristol to Mountain City, TN. It is 33 miles long with 489 curves. A real challenge to ride, but a lot of fun. All three of us were anxious to take on the challenge. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We stopped short of HWY 421 to make camera adjustments and to allow Mark to try to tighten the shifter on his 2015 StreetGlide. After inspection of the shifter and tightening of the screw we decided to press on but to stop at the first Harley dealership that we encounter to get a better assessment the problem. Cameras set, anxiety high, we roll onto HWY 421 with Mark in the lead followed by Jan and me bringing up the rear pulling a trailer. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mark got us into a good rhythm and we were really enjoying it. The turns required good leaning and shifting skills at just the right times. We wiggled our way through the first 10 miles. Then suddenly into a very tight uphill U turn that leaned heavily to the right then starts an immediate steep incline, Mark goes down on his bike. His bike choked when he was unable to get it in 1</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 7.2pt; vertical-align: super; white-space: pre-wrap;">st</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> gear. Jan was right behind him and saw Mark go down. She manage to stop her bike before hitting Mark but because of the angle of the curve and the weight of the bike she had to let her bike go down on the left highway peg and floorboard. Both bikes were down when I entered the curve behind Jan. I was able to stop my bike & trailer next to Jan with the front of my bike pointing towards the high outside of the curve. No one seemed to be hurt so we first insured that no traffic was coming and then immediately got Jan’s bike up and had her straddle it holding the front brake until her nerves settled. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mark and I then got his bike up, got it started, and he was able to proceed to the top of the hill. Jan drifted her bike back to a more level area, took a deep breath, started the bike, and gave it all it had to again maneuver the curve and reach the top of the hill. I was happy that no bike traffic was coming at the time. A car did come by when the bikes were down but they never stopped. They just looked and kept going. I was still in the curve and at a bad angle. I knew that my Harley would be screaming trying to pull that trailer up the steep incline from a dead start, so I drifted back to get the trailer straight, then hit it. I was right, the Harley screamed but we made it. We were all out of danger. Only minor damage was detected at the scene so we got back into the rhythm of the road and didn’t stop again until we got to the Country Store at the halfway point.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Shady Valley Country Store marks the halfway point of “The Snake”. Normally everyone stops there to get gas or something to eat or drink and of course to buy the “I Rode The Snake” patch. We did the same except we also wanted to take the time to check the bikes out to make sure they were okay. Jan’s bike was fine. Mark’s StreetGlide had sustained a little damage to the underside of the right saddlebag extension that he had just added a few weeks earlier. A closer look also revealed that his right highway peg had actually pushed into his right side lower fairing causing it to crack. We took time to make a few more adjustments to the bikes then rolled out of Shady Valley to finish “The Snake”.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We enjoyed the rest of “The Snake” and recommend it to all those who love riding as much as we do. Sports bike riders would surely enjoy it but it would be an adrenaline rush for anyone. Darkness caught us as we neared the end of HWY 421. It was my job now to get us out of the Tennessee mountains in the dark and back West for a good starting point in the morning. Many of the mountain roads in Tennessee look alike especially at night. Jan swore that I was taking them back through “The Snake” in the dark, but I wasn’t. I was working our way through the mountains to the town of Elizabethton, TN., so that we would be near a major highway for our morning start. It was 2100hrs (9:00pm) when we checked in the hotel. It had been a full day. We had ridden 585 miles, survived an accident and rode “The Snake”.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Day 2 we are up and rolling on time. Our objective was to reach Memphis and spend a little time with old friends before calling it a night. As usual we ran the first tank out and stopped for breakfast at a Waffle House. Rolling to our second stop near Gordonsville, TN., we were coming off I-40 when Mark pulls up near me and yells that he has no clutch. I continued to the service area and looked back to see Jan and Mark pushing his bike. We got the bike to the service area and determined that there was nothing that we could do. We would have to contact a Harley Dealership and we knew that would be a problem because it was Sunday. Mark pulled up the nearest dealerships on his GPS screen and began a series of calls to reach a dealership that could help. None had enough technicians on hand to send a vehicle. The closest dealership was 40 miles away. AMA to the rescue. I’m a lifetime member of the AMA and they have been a blessing to me more than once over my years of riding. This was no exception. Although we got off to a bumpy start with the apparently new dispatcher on duty, things were quickly rectified by an AMA supervisor who called back and stated that they would have someone there within the hour. Nothing left to do but wait. We discussed our situation and Mark decided that he would end his vacation at this point and return to Maryland once his bike was repaired. They wouldn’t be able to repair his bike until Tuesday and he didn’t want to hold us up because he knew we had limited time. We said our goodbyes in Gordonsville, TN and Jan & I rolled out heading to Memphis assured that AMA would take care of Mark.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1700hrs (5:00pm) we arrive in Memphis and I reached out to “Nocturnal”, a member of the Memphis Buffalo Soldiers to provide me with a new number for my old friend “Yogi Bear”. Without hesitation “Nocturnal” put me in touch with my old friend and former President of the Memphis Buffalo Soldiers. Then within minutes “Nocturnal” without being asked pulled up to the position where Jan and I had just gassed our bikes. All he wanted to do was to help if he could. You’ve got to respect people like that. I called “Yogi Bear” and we all agreed to meet for dinner. Seeing “Yogi Bear” & “Nocturnal” brought back pleasant memories of the good times we had years ago when I was with the “Soldiers”. We gathered at a restaurant in Memphis and were joined by one of “Nocturnal’s” beautiful daughters who was home from college because of the threatening hurricane on the east coast. It was a good evening for Jan & me discussing old times with our friends. Years ago “Yogi Bear” and the Memphis Buffalo Soldiers had sponsored an event for Jan when she was riding across country raising money for her organization, Divas For A Cure. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We remembered those times and laughed about the fun that we shared. As evening was coming to an end we said our goodbyes and thanked everyone for their kindness. Then “Yogi” led us to a hotel close to I-55 where we would start our next day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;">We checked in with Mark to see how he was doing. He was comfortable in a hotel and the Harley dealership hoped to work on his bike first thing Tuesday morning. We had covered 537 miles and visited with old friends. It was a good day and now it was time to rest.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sticking to schedule we awoke ready to pull out at 0600hrs (6:00am). </span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">We loaded the bikes and decided to eat breakfast at the hotel while we waited for daylight to break. It was Monday and our plan for the day was to visit “The Whitney Plantation” in Jan’s home state of Louisiana. It was on our “Must Do List”. For some reason during my planning I thought that the plantation was near Shreveport, and that we would have a short day’s ride, but a quick call to the plantation office proved my planning wrong. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Whitney Plantation was closer to New Orleans and the last tour begins at 3pm. To make matters worst it was closed on Tuesday so we had to get there today. I explained to Jan that we would have to step it up to get there in time for the last tour. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">She locked in behind me and we pushed hard down I-55 south to New Orleans. </span><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Crossing over bridges, bayous and land that was familiar to Jan we rode the left lane as far as we could then turning onto some country roads and finally onto HWY 18 and arrived in Wallace, Louisiana to learn The Story Of Slavery, told from the slave’s point of view on The Whitney Plantation. We arrived 30 minutes prior to the last tour of the day. We parked our bikes in the dirt and gravel parking lot as close as we could to the buildings and walked inside anxious to learn more about our history.</span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fCIcKZ4Vxm8/WffFU637rII/AAAAAAAABI4/oTnlrtDcxPIORsHLDMSX7yitg5HWVy7BwCEwYBhgL/s1600/DSCN5002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; white-space: normal;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fCIcKZ4Vxm8/WffFU637rII/AAAAAAAABI4/oTnlrtDcxPIORsHLDMSX7yitg5HWVy7BwCEwYBhgL/s320/DSCN5002.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The learning begins as soon as you walk inside the door. The walls are covered with more information than you can consume in the limited time that we had or even if we had additional hours. The museum will keep you busy until its time for your tour and there are plenty of books to purchase or to browse through while you wait.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our guide, Ali, was very knowledgeable and made the tour very interesting. The tour lasted much longer than expected but the sights of the old slave quarters, the holding cells, the swamps, the old church and the “Big House” made all the knowledge that we’ve learned over the years come to life. Jan and I both thoroughly enjoyed the tour and took a lot of pictures.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Because the tour lasted so long we decided to find a hotel in the local area and get a fresh start in the morning. We had completed a little over 400 miles and checked off another item on our “Must Do List”. It was a very good day but tomorrow will be a real challenge.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Before going to bed we checked in with my best friend Herb “KingWing” Dorsey to give him an update on where we were. He usually travels with us but when he doesn’t, he still monitors our every move. He had been in touch with my brother Mark and found out that an additional technician had come in on Monday so the Harley dealership was able to fix Marks bike and get him on the road a day early. That made us all sleep a little better.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was Tuesday, our 4</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 7.2pt; vertical-align: super; white-space: pre-wrap;">th</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> day on the road and we had a lot of ground to cover. My goal for the day was to see my new grandson who was just born a few days earlier. The challenge was to get there before dark, the obstacle was 1000 miles of paved road.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">We were up early and rode into daylight knowing that it would be a long day. Jan very seldom reads a map or uses her GPS when she is traveling with me. Most of the time she just follows my tail lights. So as we travelled up I-49 I knew that she wasn’t really paying attention to the signs. We were really pushing it hard and were only a few miles from Natchitoches, the Louisiana town where Jan was raised, when I called her on the CB and asked her if she wanted to stop in her old hometown. She asked if we were going anywhere close to it and when I told her that we had to go right by Natchitoches she quickly asked if we could stop for a few minutes. </span></div>
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As we approached the exit I waved her ahead to take the lead. She then realized exactly where she was and had no difficulty in locating the home where she was raised. Tears filled her eyes as we stopped the bikes and she concentrated for a few minutes on the house and the surrounding area. She walked to the door, knocked and explained to the elderly lady that answered who she was. She asked if it was okay to take pictures of the old homestead. The whole experience only took a few minutes but it brought back a lifetime of memories for Jan. The current occupants stood in the doorway and waived at us as we departed. We slowly rolled out of town but stopped to take one last photo before maneuvering our bikes back onto I-49 and heading for Texas.</div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MXsj0finsy8/WffGgwJu3WI/AAAAAAAABJA/N4i3AcprG-Mrfh_5X7STHgz6M-_qkeXiwCEwYBhgL/s1600/20170912_094755_001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MXsj0finsy8/WffGgwJu3WI/AAAAAAAABJA/N4i3AcprG-Mrfh_5X7STHgz6M-_qkeXiwCEwYBhgL/s320/20170912_094755_001.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jan kept quiet for hours as we continued to rack up the miles. I guess she was caught up in a thousand thoughts of her childhood in Louisiana. We stopped and had a quick bunch and Jan explained to me some of the things that she remembered about her old home. We had already covered over 500 miles, much of which Jan didn’t remember because she was so deep in thought about her childhood.</span><br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iHuefNyWjLA/WffMQS7J8XI/AAAAAAAABKk/ggmkDJmDGpEMH2cRLKyjl1VxfLFcQm0VACEwYBhgL/s1600/21993100_10155988730204131_7598162774698899907_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We were keeping the needle between 80 and 85 whenever traffic and road conditions allowed. By 1700hrs ( 5:00pm) that afternoon we were gassing the bikes in Wichita Falls, TX. We had covered a little over 700 miles. The bikes were running great and we still had sun light and the hope of getting to our destination before dark.</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Only flat country roads with occasional curves and the sight of hundreds of rocking horses by Texas oil wells kept us alert as we pushed northwest from Wichita Falls. We called ahead to let my son, Kevin know that we expected to be there NLT sundown. We passed little towns with a single sign and only a hand full of homes. We passed ranches that had family names made out of iron and welded to large gates but no sign of a home anywhere in sight, just lonely dirt roads leading off to more open spaces. As the miles mounted Jan fell further and further back from her normal position of being one bike length behind me. </span><br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iHuefNyWjLA/WffMQS7J8XI/AAAAAAAABKk/ggmkDJmDGpEMH2cRLKyjl1VxfLFcQm0VACEwYBhgL/s1600/21993100_10155988730204131_7598162774698899907_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iHuefNyWjLA/WffMQS7J8XI/AAAAAAAABKk/ggmkDJmDGpEMH2cRLKyjl1VxfLFcQm0VACEwYBhgL/s320/21993100_10155988730204131_7598162774698899907_o.jpg" width="213" /></a><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was her way of letting me know that she was tired. We had been in the saddle for over 12 hours and still had at least three hours to go. I refused to acknowledge her signal and continued to make the best use of the open road and extremely limited traffic. Jan finally got my signal that I wasn’t going to slow down and that I was determined to get to my son’s home before dark. So I look in my rear view mirror and I see Jan rolling forward at a high rate of speed and I smile to myself as she locks into position as if to say “Okay let’s do this”. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">As the sun set we rolled into the town of Pampa, Texas, 60 miles northeast of Amarillo.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Within minutes Kevin was at the hotel to pick us up and drive us to his home. My grand-daughter’s husband met us in the yard holding my first great-great grandson, Devin. It had been over a year since I last saw him. Inside the rest of the family waited; my daughter in law, Marcie, and my two grand-children, Thomas and Tiani, mother to Devin. </span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9K442XXwanE/WffRkQzQHKI/AAAAAAAABK8/qTD9HxFKvzU0OvGbu-LZm4OhiHSlnogTgCLcBGAs/s1600/21994237_10155988723134131_5829954577152726007_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9K442XXwanE/WffRkQzQHKI/AAAAAAAABK8/qTD9HxFKvzU0OvGbu-LZm4OhiHSlnogTgCLcBGAs/s320/21994237_10155988723134131_5829954577152726007_o.jpg" width="213" /></a><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">We all shared hugs and kisses but my mind was set on seeing the newest member of our family, my grandson, Seth Berrett Costley, born less than 2 weeks before our arrival. It brought a wonderful completion to our day. We had stayed in our saddles for over 15 hours, covered 1047 miles without incident, got to see family members who we see far too infrequently and got to hold the newest member of the Costley Clan. It was a long day, but a good day.</span><br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YzzsF_yajLk/WffME5zIZ3I/AAAAAAAABKk/OSLJb-hNx9UHNKZaHcVRTxIIYnupxdlagCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/21994230_10155988723319131_7811363116813801492_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YzzsF_yajLk/WffME5zIZ3I/AAAAAAAABKk/OSLJb-hNx9UHNKZaHcVRTxIIYnupxdlagCPcBGAYYCw/s320/21994230_10155988723319131_7811363116813801492_o.jpg" width="213" /></a><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">When we got back to the hotel we called my brother Mark and were glad to hear that he had made it back to Maryland safely. All we needed now was some well-deserved rest.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wednesday came far too soon but we accepted it knowing that it would be a shorter day. We took our time eating breakfast at the hotel, then called Kevin and waited for him, Marcie and little Seth Barrett to stop by so that we could see them before leaving. We were only able to spend a short time together but it was well worth the long trip. After goodbyes and watching them drive out of the parking lot, we checked the bikes and prepared to saddle up for our next destination, Austin, Texas. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We both felt good in knowing that we could get there in what most people consider a normal day’s ride. I have wonderful friends in Austin that I’ve known since we were stationed together in Rota, Spain in the early 80s. The Carter Family is loved by the Costleys but we haven’t been able to see each other in years. I wanted so much to see them and have them meet Jan. I especially wanted Jan to meet their beautiful daughter Tiffany who I am proud to say is my god-daughter. But when I called them I learned that they would be out of town. Deeply disappointed, we would have to add them to our “Must see later” list. But that didn’t change our plans for going to Austin. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jan and I both have another very dear friend in Austin who had moved there from Maryland not too long ago. AJ “Suga Soldier” Coffee is known and loved by many in the motorcycle community and has been our friend for years. She knew we were coming and was anxious to spend time with us once again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The ride to Austin was without incident except for the inability at one point to find gas in any of the small towns that we passed through. I remember Jan calling me and asking how much gas I had. My needle was already on “E” and the warning light was on too. She was not in much better shape. We passed a sign saying that the next town was 32 miles away. We both checked our odometer buttons at about the same time. My reading showed that I had enough gas to cover 34 miles. I had two miles to spare, Jan had a few miles more so we slowed down a little but kept it steady. We rolled into the town of Aspermont, TX at 1140hrs. The little station had only two old gas pumps but at least they had gas. When I filled my 6 gallon tank it took 5.83 gallons….not much to spare. We laughed, hydrated, and pushed on. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">By early evening we had reached Austin, contacted “AJ” and was waiting for her not far from her home. Its always fun when we are together. “AJ” fixed dinner and put us up for the night. It was the first time in days that we had an opportunity to take it down early and it was needed. After dinner and showers, Jan and AJ stayed up and talked as they normally do…..I simply went to bed and thought about the rest of the trip. Today was easy….476 miles.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Thursday, our 6</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 7.2pt; vertical-align: super; white-space: pre-wrap;">th</span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> day out, destination: Mobile, Alabama. Everyone was up early, the trailer was packed and “AJ” walked us outside to say goodbye. It was still dark when we rolled out of her gated community, picked up route 290 East and headed toward Houston. We had made our turn and were now headed back East. It would be a 600 plus day but it was mostly Interstate Highway so we would be able to make excellent time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The sun was directly in our eyes as we rolled through Houston. Every place we looked we saw the signs of receding water and wet furniture lining the streets. It was sad to think of all the people that had suffered, been displaced and were now living in state shelters. We both wanted to stop, roll up our sleeves and help in any way that we could but as we looked around we didn’t see many people, just lonely streets filled with stacks of discarded personal belongings that used to mean so much to so many. We pushed through thankful that one of Jan’s closest friends, Pam and her husband Rufus had weathered the Houston storm without much damage. Once again we would have to go without seeing friends. Time just wouldn’t allow it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Out of Texas, through Louisiana and nearly out of Mississippi we were burning up I-10. By early evening we decided to shut it down on the east side of Gulfport, MS. We stayed at the Hampton Inn. The receptionist gave us a nice suite and a big discount when she found out that I was retired military. She had two children currently serving in the military and couldn’t thank me enough for my service.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As I returned to the bikes, Jan was already involved in conversation with an individual who was admiring our bikes. He was there delivering pizza and as we talked I noticed the Vietnam cap that he was wearing. He was a Vet and a member of the Mississippi Combat Vets Association. He was also a rider. His name coincidentally was also “AJ”. Not to be out done, I pulled out my Vietnam cap from our trailer and that’s when Jan took a picture of both of us together.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We really didn’t get to take advantage of all of the suite’s niceties, just a hot shower and the bed and we were done for the night. But we certainly appreciated the gesture. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Friday’s schedule would take us to Augusta, Ga. We had three more things to check off our list before reaching home; Meeting with my old friend “Dragon 6” and his lovely wife, Lichia in Augusta, Catching up with my other close friend “Ice” from Huntsville and riding the “Tail Of The Dragon”. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">We had breakfast at the hotel in Gulfport then immediately headed northeast to Augusta, Ga. “Ice” and I had spoken before I left Jersey. He wanted to ride a part of our journey with us. It had been years since we rode together so this would be a special treat for me. When I was National President of the National Association of Buffalo Soldiers & Troopers MC, “Ice” was the President of the Huntsville, Alabama Buffalo Soldiers. He and his beautiful wife Anita always opened their home to me as I travelled through Huntsville and further south visiting chapters. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f3fs5-ZzwVg/WffMPBedxvI/AAAAAAAABKk/6LBQfBoykTgHgRr2OzLeAeE7qTr2-xdBACEwYBhgL/s1600/21752680_10155952105974131_7051888350052785296_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It became my regular stop over point and I could never thank them enough for their hospitality and friendship. We had agreed to ride the “Tail of the Dragon” together. He was going to hook up with his brother-in-law Marion aka “Junior” in Atlanta and the two of them were going to meet us at Deals Gap on Saturday.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We had a day’s ride ahead of us but with our early start we expected to get there by late afternoon. We ran through three tanks and at 1630hrs (4:30pm) we were on Augusta HWY, in Dearing, Ga. A quick call was made to “Dragon 6” and within minutes Lichia was there to greet us and guide us to their home. “Dragon” would be delayed on business so while Lichia and Jan got acquainted with one another I changed clothes, asked if I could use the garden hose and started to work on the bikes. They hadn’t been cleaned since we left Jersey. </span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9yq7z5pXvWk/WffMPreN3GI/AAAAAAAABKk/tztzlHxo_YkVRArxuLjBCbqma5Lgtlc7gCEwYBhgL/s1600/21753231_10155951033449131_2132630657925486548_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9yq7z5pXvWk/WffMPreN3GI/AAAAAAAABKk/tztzlHxo_YkVRArxuLjBCbqma5Lgtlc7gCEwYBhgL/s400/21753231_10155951033449131_2132630657925486548_o.jpg" width="225" /></a><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The four of us shared a wonderful evening of good food and conversation. We plan to see a lot of each other in the near future as they and others become a part of our United States Black Cavalry Family. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Before going to bed another call was made to “Ice” to finalize our plans for tomorrow. He was already in Atlanta and anxious to meet with us before noon at the Deals Gap Motorcycle Resort in North Carolina. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Dragon 6” and Lichia insured that we were comfortable and we ended our day thankful for having them as our friends. We had racked up another 550 miles.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We awoke Saturday morning to the smell of breakfast. Lichia was in the kitchen cooking and “Dragon” was setting the table. We got our things together, enjoyed breakfast with our hosts and loaded the bikes. Daylight had arrived as we started the bikes. We said our goodbyes in the driveway and “Dragon 6” led us to the main highway to get us on our way to Deals Gap to tame “The Dragon”.</span><br />
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f3fs5-ZzwVg/WffMPBedxvI/AAAAAAAABKk/6LBQfBoykTgHgRr2OzLeAeE7qTr2-xdBACEwYBhgL/s1600/21752680_10155952105974131_7051888350052785296_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-f3fs5-ZzwVg/WffMPBedxvI/AAAAAAAABKk/6LBQfBoykTgHgRr2OzLeAeE7qTr2-xdBACEwYBhgL/s400/21752680_10155952105974131_7051888350052785296_o.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We arrived at Deals Gap much later than expected, slowed by some of those mountain roads that made us think that we were already on “The Tail of The Dragon”. It was crowded with bikers on all types of machines when we arrived at the resort. The first order of business was to find “Ice”. It took all of about 10 minutes before I heard his familiar voice call out to me. It was great seeing him after so long. After meeting his brother-in-law, “Junior” we sat and talked for a while and grabbed a bite to eat while we discussed old times. Picture taking, bike gazing and people watching all took place before we decided to take on the challenge. </span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-airrbl4-N9s/WffMP2L5eKI/AAAAAAAABKk/y2kpo3lMhGUKHM2sT4Ban8H3MrxZ_twOwCEwYBhgL/s1600/21762887_10155952126124131_3350921338665779381_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-airrbl4-N9s/WffMP2L5eKI/AAAAAAAABKk/y2kpo3lMhGUKHM2sT4Ban8H3MrxZ_twOwCEwYBhgL/s400/21762887_10155952126124131_3350921338665779381_o.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">We waited for other bikes to get ahead of us, then with “Ice” leading we rolled up the hill away from the resort and onto “The Tail of The Dragon”. “Ice” picked up a little speed, then followed by “Junior”, Jan and me we evolved into a nice rhythm as one after the other fell into and out of each curve in unison as if we were train cars being pulled by an engine. We rolled through the 11 miles, 318 curves enjoying every inch of the “The Dragon” and stepping up to the challenge that it presented. At the end, we all stopped, laughed and exhaled with excitement as we congratulated each other for taming “The Dragon”. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was time to move on. “Ice” and “Junior” decided to go back on “The Dragon” to take pictures from one of the overview sights. After saying our goodbyes, Jan and I pressed on. We had to make it to Bristol, TN / Bristol, Virginia by sundown to stay on schedule. We had no time to spare. We both had to be home tomorrow and at work on Monday. We ended our day early in Bristol having a nice meal at Shoneys and staying at the Travel Inn, the worst hotel that we had experienced during this entire trip. Another 400 miles completed and two more check offs on our “must do” list. We went to bed knowing that if all goes well we would be home tomorrow.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My bike had been making a funny internal noise for days. The same kind of sound that you get when to take off in the wrong gear. I wasn’t very concerned at first but now it was becoming more pronounced. I didn’t mention it to Jan because I didn’t want her to start worrying about it and although it was becoming louder the bike still seemed to be running okay especially in the higher gears. It was Sunday morning, our last day on the road and we had to make it home so I decided to press on and keep my fingers crossed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">We stuck to our schedule and in the minutes before daybreak we gassed our bikes at the service station next to the hotel and rolled out onto I-81 heading north. It was 0700hrs (7:00am) and we wanted to be home before dark. The Sunday morning traffic was light as we pushed the bikes through the rolling hills of western Virginia. The day was uneventful and by 1430hrs (2:30pm) with a few rain drops hitting the windshield we pulled into Love’s service station in Carlisle, Pa. It was the only rain we had seen in 9 days and it was so limited that you could actually count the drops on the shield.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bikes gassed, restroom break completed and a small drink to quench our thirst, we readied ourselves for the final leg of our trip. We were less than 200 miles from home. At 1500hrs (3:00pm) we were passing through the toll booth and entering the Pennsylvania Turnpike. It’s a road that we know well. So without hesitation we run through the numbers, lock in at 85 and let the bikes do the work. We crossed the bridge into New Jersey and at 1730hrs (5:30pm) we were pulling in our driveway. We had covered 581 miles since 0700hrs (7:00am) and were home safely.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Checking my bike’s odometer, it registered 5018 miles for the entire trip. Not bad for 9 days on the road. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: 12pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Unfortunately we had no time to relax after we arrived home. Both Jan & I had to go to work the following morning. So while I unloaded the bikes and trailer, Jan sent messages out to family and friends that we were home safely. We got a quick bite to eat, showered and hit the bed. We were home….but Harley & Chico would have to spend one more night at the kennel. </span></div>
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USBCFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02629564104313658692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8522532058336666515.post-67238420523160215382014-01-12T16:43:00.000-08:002014-01-13T17:01:13.018-08:002013 SUMMER TRIP TO NORTH DAKOTA, SOUTH DAKOTA, WYOMING AND MONTANA<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>4 </b>BIKES<b>, 4 </b>RIDERS<b>, 14 </b>DIFFERENT STATES<b>, 4,630 </b>MILES<b> </b><br />
AND MANY UN<b>-4-</b>GETTABLE MEMORIES<br />
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<b><u><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18px;">Detailed Version</span></u></b></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tDn51iKrias/UtMkJIGnuuI/AAAAAAAAAko/rrOk1zt7OHo/s1600/20130817_135248_Junction+Ave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tDn51iKrias/UtMkJIGnuuI/AAAAAAAAAko/rrOk1zt7OHo/s1600/20130817_135248_Junction+Ave.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>"This red Cushman is just like the one we road as teenagers!"</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The 2013 summer began with me entering my 55th year as a
biker. I remember vividly the very first
ride that I had. One summer my oldest brother Ike had somehow managed to save
enough money to buy an old Cushman step through scooter from one of our
cousins. It was hand painted black, wasn't very pretty at all but it ran great
and it provided us with a hell of a lot of fun.
It was weeks before Ike would allow me to ride the scooter alone but
eventually he did teach me how to ride and from that very day, many years
before I was legally licensed to ride, I knew that I would someday have a bike
of my own to enjoy the experience of riding. I have owned many bikes since that
old black Cushman that I first rode in the early fifties, including the six
that my wife, Sunny and I currently own today. My desire to own and to ride
hasn't decreased one iota from what it was during those earlier days. However
today I must confess that at the end of a long day in the saddle my body
quickly reminds me that I am now over 70 years old and not the teenager that I
was in the fifties.</div>
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Since retiring from the military in the early 90s I've made
it a point to plan a summer trip each year. The planning always begins in
January with the selection of a destination. Then the next few months are spent
determining routes, points of interests,
which family members to visit along the way, lodging and always, which
historical sites to see. All planning of course is impacted by the amount of
time I am allotted by my employer for vacation. Without a doubt I've found that one of the
most important things I consider when planning a long trip is who, if anyone, will
be traveling with me.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kmAyT4flckY/UtMXrrNQgII/AAAAAAAAAhk/hDjERtXJtvQ/s1600/SANY0013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kmAyT4flckY/UtMXrrNQgII/AAAAAAAAAhk/hDjERtXJtvQ/s1600/SANY0013.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5rMUlz_MkYY/UtMYrWWNzaI/AAAAAAAAAhw/mPNbyuyeI4c/s1600/SANY0003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5rMUlz_MkYY/UtMYrWWNzaI/AAAAAAAAAhw/mPNbyuyeI4c/s400/SANY0003.JPG" width="400" /></a>In the many trips that I've made, I've traveled with as
many as twenty other riders (far too many) and with as few as only one. On many
occasions I traveled alone. Typically I begin in January asking about ten
riders to join me for the year's summer ride. By the time July or August rolls
around that number has usually dwindled to a more manageable five or six. This
year's ride dwindled to just me plus three. The great thing about that was that
I was already very familiar with the three remaining riders; my best friend
Herb "KingWing" Dorsey would be my "tail gunner." I love
this brother to death and trust him with my life. We have spent countless times
together on the road. Herb is 82 and bought his first bike in 1949. He is a
member of four different motorcycle organizations and continues to ride today
as much and as hard as he did in the 60s and 70s. I couldn't begin to tell you
the number of trips that he and I have made together over the past 23 years. My
brother Mark Costley will ride in the number three spot. Mark is an experienced
rider and has joined me on some of the rides in the past. He is the only one of
my eight brothers that is still riding. This trip will test his beautiful 007 Road
King. Mark and I normally meet at Americade each year. It will be fun spending
a little extra time with him this year. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZhxJLXu7CjU/UtR9RHCmCZI/AAAAAAAAAnk/RWhYKtZ-4_g/s1600/SAM_0323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZhxJLXu7CjU/UtR9RHCmCZI/AAAAAAAAAnk/RWhYKtZ-4_g/s400/SAM_0323.JPG" width="223" /></a><br />
The number two spot will be held by my
wife, Sunny "The Diva". Sunny is also an experienced rider and has
ridden across country at least three times. Additionally she has accompanied me
on many trips and has ventured on her own to as far away as Texas just to visit
friends.<br />
<br />
Part of this trip is to have Sunny meet her goal of riding in all 48
states of the Continental United States.
Visiting Wyoming, Montana, North and South Dakota will leave Sunny with
only one State, Maine, to complete her goal.
She is very anxious to make this trip and to make it on her first big touring
bike, her 2008 Harley Ultra Classic that she recently purchased. This will be a
family affair.<br />
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Our destination was the Black Hills of South Dakota to visit
one of America's most famous monuments, Mount Rushmore. Along the way we planned to visit the
Badlands, Sturgis, Montana, North Dakota, Wyoming, Custer State Park and the
Monument dedicated to the great Native American, Crazy Horse. The trip was planned for 9 days; 3 days out, 3
days touring, and 3 days back. Estimated mileage <b>4500</b>.</div>
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One week from departure" KingWing" and I start making
daily checks of the weather across the country. Everything looks good except
for a storm forming in the south and expected to travel up the east coast
around the date of our departure. We would watch it closely and determine later
in the week if departure times needed to change. Two days from departure Mark
calls and says that he is riding up from Maryland a day early so that he can be
rested for the first day of the trip. He arrives Sunday afternoon. Herb and I
confer about the weather and decide that we will push the departure date up one
day to avoid the wet weather that was now definitely arriving in the Jersey
area on Tuesday. Like most bikers, we don't mind so much getting caught in the
rain, it adds to the adventure...but leaving home in the rain is another story.
We spent Sunday cleaning the bikes, packing our bags, and going over our trip
plan to insure that we had everything that we needed for the next 9 days on the
road. Then finally we got some rest.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ktx5I78awZk/UtMda7uVIPI/AAAAAAAAAio/qqwCbbNnTAM/s1600/20130303_150730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ktx5I78awZk/UtMda7uVIPI/AAAAAAAAAio/qqwCbbNnTAM/s1600/20130303_150730.jpg" width="320" /></a>Sunday night seemed to pass quickly and before we could get
the amount of quality rest that we had hoped for, the alarm on my clock and on
Sunny's phone were both sounding. Mark
was already up and moving around. I guess that we were all a little anxious. We
contacted Herb and confirmed our meeting time at the local Wawa in Pemberton.
Bikes all loaded and wiped clean, "Harley" & "Chico",
our two spoiled dogs, dropped off at the kennel, house walk through
completed, mental check completed, it's 12 noon and Sunny, Mark and I are
rolling out of the driveway to meet
Herb, gas up the bikes, get a cup of coffee and discuss the plan of the day.
Destination....Columbus, Ohio.....500 miles before dark.</div>
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1:00pm we rolled out of the service station, took Woodlane
Road to route 206 north. purposely cut through the town of Columbus, NJ so that we could say that we rode from
Columbus to Columbus on the first day, made a left onto route 130 south and in
less than a quarter of a mile we were going up the ramp to pick up the
Pennsylvania Turnpike. EZ Passes
displayed, we passed through our 1st toll, locked into a tight formation and
headed West. The Journey had truly begun.</div>
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I have a few simple
rules when riding with a group on long trips; Weather permitting, we start each
day by leaving the hotel at 6am; we end the day by watching the sun set. We
don't eat breakfast until we have burned the first tank of gas and we always
gas our bikes before we find a hotel for the night. Finally, we don't ride at night in unfamiliar
areas unless absolutely necessary. We would follow these rules for the majority
of the trip.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CNaXVPonQKw/UtRqKZx0n5I/AAAAAAAAAmY/yZrwj43KRxg/s1600/SANY0009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CNaXVPonQKw/UtRqKZx0n5I/AAAAAAAAAmY/yZrwj43KRxg/s1600/SANY0009.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
The two big Ultra Classics, a beautiful Road King, and
Herb's chromed out GoldWing ran through the first 150 miles flawlessly. At our first stop near Hershey, Pa, we
grabbed a quick lunch, gassed up the bikes, drank some Gatorade and hit the
road.....but not before I realized that I was missing the gas cap on my Ultra.
I had left it on top of the gas tank at the WaWa service station where we had
met 150 miles back in Jersey. It would be nearly 2000 miles before I would
finally get another one. Staying on the PA Turnpike we pushed ahead toward
Ohio. We exited the Turnpike at the New Stanton exit and picked up I-70 west
toward Wheeling, WV. 380 miles now under our belts, we rode with
the sun setting in front of us. We will not make Columbus before darkness so we
rode until the light of the sun disappeared on the horizon. We stopped in
Cambridge, Ohio, 430 miles from home, 70 miles short our destination but happy
that we had left a day early because now it was raining in Jersey.<br />
<br /></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KCu9LJaPLzc/UtMfKIIRWVI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/Kip6HwbXmhA/s1600/20130812_122536_Fort+Dix+Rd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KCu9LJaPLzc/UtMfKIIRWVI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/Kip6HwbXmhA/s1600/20130812_122536_Fort+Dix+Rd.jpg" width="400" /></a>Interstate highways would be our home for the next day. We
departed the Southgate Hotel in Cambridge at 6:00am. In short time we were in
Columbus and in the middle of morning rush hour traffic. We worked our way over
to the left lanes and as traffic thinned we accelerated toward Springfield, OH. Stomachs full from breakfast and tanks full of gas we would make today a full
day of riding. Leaving Springfield we passed through Indianapolis, Indiana and
pick up I-74 west. With quick gas stops in Brownsburg and Rapids City, Illinois
we pushed on to I -80 west and into the state of Iowa. Iowa City would be our destination for the
day. Stopping at sunset we had completed a 650 mile day. We were in middle
America and enjoying the open spaces. We all slept well that night.</div>
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It was now Wednesday, our 3rd day on the road. We were ahead
of schedule so found no need to rush but we would stick to our plan. We left
the Clarion Hotel in Iowa City on time. The weather turned a little chilly so we
all put on our leather and headed I- 80 west toward Omaha, Nebraska. Passing
through Des Moines, we stop in Van Meter, IA for gas and breakfast. On the road
again we near Omaha and take 680 to I-29 north toward Sioux City. The weather
became misty and then light rain started to fall as we neared the mid way point
between Omaha and Sioux City. Just south
of Sioux City we veered left onto I-129, crossed over into Nebraska and exited onto
US Route 20. I had already informed everyone that once we got to Nebraska we
were going to give up the Interstates and travel the old roads once used by
ranchers and cowboys to herd their cattle to market. US Route 20 was one of
those roads. It was open country, beautiful scenery, lonely roads and little
towns of just a few buildings stretched miles and miles apart. It was
perfect....except for the rain. I refused to stop to put on rain gear. It
wasn't hard rain. It was more like nuisance rain and the leather gear was
holding up well. Our plan was to make it to Valentine, Nebraska by the end of
the day but as the rain worsened we knew that our plans would have to change.
We kept riding and enjoying the sights in spite of the rain until we reached a
small area called Orchard, not far from where route 20 intersected 275. The
rain was now pouring and the shoulders of the road were too soft for us to pull
over so we pressed on. In Orchard, through the heavy rain we saw a big sign
reading "DETOUR BRIDGE OUT.” We were about 20 miles from O'Neill and
unfamiliar with the area so we toughed it out, followed the detour signs, took
our time and made it safely to O'Neill. It would be the only rain that we
experienced during the whole trip....but it was enough. Arriving in O'Neill
tired from the tenseness of riding in heavy rain and being wet we decide to
call it a day. We had completed 435 miles. Not bad considering most of it was
done in the rain. Sunny was beat and immediately took a shower and hit the bed.
Herb, Mark and I were more hungry than tired. We noticed a Dairy Queen across
the street from the hotel and quickly headed in that direction. Two chili dogs
and a banana split later we make our way back to the hotel and got directions
to the nearest laundry mat. O'Neill is a small town whose laundry mat was a
former bar in an old western hotel. The bar and stools were still there so
Herb, Mark and I made ourselves comfortable talking about the day's ride as the
clothes and leathers dried.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7IMP-4JCCcE/UtMg4mnowdI/AAAAAAAAAjk/Y_6mMCvsi48/s1600/20130815_153658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7IMP-4JCCcE/UtMg4mnowdI/AAAAAAAAAjk/Y_6mMCvsi48/s1600/20130815_153658.jpg" width="300" /></a>We cleaned our windshields from yesterday's rain and dirt,
drank a cup of coffee and left the hotel on time. The weather was still misty
but it soon burned off as the sun came up. Our next stop would be for gas and
breakfast in Valentine about 115 miles away. Nebraska is known for all the corn
that it produces and believe me we saw plenty of it on US route 20. The scenery
continues to be spacious and beautiful. The bikes were running great and all of
us were anxious to reach our destination by the end of the day. Leaving
Valentine with our tanks full we continued on route 20 toward Chadron 140 miles
down the road. Along the way I glanced into my right side mirror and noticed
that Herb's headlight was out. I radioed him and informed him of the problem.
We decided that we would check it out at our next stop. As we neared our exit
to the town of Chadron we were supposed to pick up route 385 north and cross
the border into South Dakota. But instead I radioed everyone and told them that
I wanted to take them somewhere special. A few years ago I had the pleasure of
being the National President of the National Association of Buffalo Soldiers
and Troopers Motorcycle Clubs. I am no longer a part of that organization.
However, both Sunny and Herb are so I thought that they would enjoy visiting a
fort from the 1800s where the 9th & 10th Cavalry Buffalo Soldiers were
stationed for over 18 years. <br />
<br /></div>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-laZo_jgvXFw/UtRwH0VbwyI/AAAAAAAAAnY/ttPVtOj1WjQ/s1600/20130815_151723.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-laZo_jgvXFw/UtRwH0VbwyI/AAAAAAAAAnY/ttPVtOj1WjQ/s1600/20130815_151723.jpg" width="400" /></a>Fort Robinson is a gorgeous outpost just 28 miles
southwest of Chadron. It is a very historical site that is opened to the
public. It has a nice museum and the grounds are immaculate. The scenery
surrounding the Fort is breathtaking. It
is well worth the visit if you are ever in the area. We spent a couple hours
there and everyone enjoyed the experience. Leaving Fort Robinson we are still
on schedule and only 108 miles from our final destination, Custer, South
Dakota. Within 30 minutes we were making a left onto 385 north toward the town
of Chadron. Riding down main street and seeing a couple of the old buildings brought
back my memory of being there years ago. I pointed out to everyone the motel
where I stayed on my last visit and told Herb that there was a Honda dealership
in town where we could get his light checked. Just as I mentioned the dealership it came
into view and we all pulled in. We found everyone there willing to help. Some
remembered when the "Soldiers" were there before. Herb explained his
problem and in less than 5 minutes it was repaired. His light bulb wasn't bad
at all. The problem was that the starter button was not fully disengaging after
use. <br />
<br />
A little WD-40 fixed the problem on the spot. It was now after 2:00pm so
we decided to have lunch before making our final 2 hour stretch to Custer. Helen's Restaurant was within walking distance. We filled up, walked slowly back to the bikes,
thanked the Honda people again for their quick service, mounted up and headed
north to South Dakota. In less than 20
miles we crossed the border into South Dakota. In less than an hour and a half
we exited the highway and entered the town of Custer, SD. We gassed up at the Exxon station on our
right as we turned onto Mt. Rushmore road. Directly across the street was the
Rock Crest Lodge, our home for the next 4 days. We had made it there safely, on
schedule and with only minor problems. We quickly checked in, off loaded the bikes,
found a place to eat, posted pictures on Face book and went to bed thinking
what tomorrow would bring.<br />
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The Lodge staff was great. Coffee was ready for our early
start on Friday. We had a full day planned for Custer State Park starting with
a tour of "Wildlife Loop." Rolling through town after breakfast we were all excited about our
chances of seeing American Bison up close and personal. The largest herd in American roams the
grounds of Custer State Park and we wanted to find them. We were welcomed
warmly by the Rangers as we entered the Park.
They explained to us that the main herd was not anywhere near the road
at this time but that we could see them grazing in the distance. Pulling away
from the station we glanced to our left and lying in the grass was a herd of
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Continuing south on
Wildlife Loop we enjoyed the slow ride and gorgeous scenery. It was easy to
understand why this area was made a State Park.
Deer and antelope truly do play here and so do the Buffalo. It was as if
we had the park all to ourselves as we topped a small hill and Mark caught a
glimpse of the buffalo herd to our right. We stopped, took pictures and felt a
little cheated because we couldn't get closer. Not long after that sighting we
noticed that traffic ahead of us had stopped. It didn't take us long to see
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A1jwiASNaHE/UtMjin1OKeI/AAAAAAAAAkU/j7-KJAzH0D0/s1600/20130816_125554_Wildlife+Loop+Rd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A1jwiASNaHE/UtMjin1OKeI/AAAAAAAAAkU/j7-KJAzH0D0/s1600/20130816_125554_Wildlife+Loop+Rd.jpg" width="320" /></a>The famous park "begging burros" were on the side of the road
begging for food from every visitor. Of course we stopped and Sunny found some
snacks in her tour-pak to feed to the burros.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W9qwh0vQs3s/UtRqsn6DSvI/AAAAAAAAAmg/CJjx-fRq-wA/s1600/20130816_125612_Wildlife+Loop+Rd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-W9qwh0vQs3s/UtRqsn6DSvI/AAAAAAAAAmg/CJjx-fRq-wA/s1600/20130816_125612_Wildlife+Loop+Rd.jpg" width="240" /></a>I took picture as Herb and Sunny
held their hands out to allow the burros to feed and then spent some time just
petting the friendly animals. As the burros slowly walked back to the field we
mounted our bikes and continued around the Loop. At one point we stopped at a
small rest area that was once the home of pioneers in the 1800s. <br />
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<br />
It was an
interesting place sitting alone in the prairie with a small museum inside. We
spent about 30 minutes there talking with other bikers and relaxing before
rolling out and finishing the Loop. Turning left on route 16 we traveled west
to route 87, Needles Highway. Needles Highway was on our list of routes to ride.
"It is part of the Peter Norbeck Scenic Byway rated as one of the top five
Scenic Byways in all of the United States. Needles Highway curves and winds
through 14 miles of rock tunnels, and magnificent rock formations called
"Needles" one of the most prominent rock formations on the Highway is
the Needles Eye, reaching 30 to 40 feet in the air with a 3 foot wide
slit."<br />
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Needles Highway was labeled impossible when it was constructed in
1919. It took more than 150,000 pounds of dynamite and a lot of determination
to construct the Highway.<br />
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It was absolutely gorgeous to ride. Breathtaking to say the least. About two
thirds of Needles Highway completed, we pulled into Sylvan Lake for lunch. The
lake was beautiful but the first thing that Sunny noticed was the mountain
climbers on top of the magnificent rocks surrounding the lake. She thought that
they were crazy, I wanted to be up there with them. Leaving Sylvan Lake we
traveled less than 2 miles when we were pleasantly surprised by something that
we had been searching for all day.<br />
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On the right side of the road just as we
rounded a curve was the largest bull buffalo that I had ever seen. I radioed
for everyone to look but we were past it before everyone realized it was there.
We quickly found a place to park, grabbed our cameras and Herb and I ran back
down the road toward the buffalo. We were able to get real close and got some
great pictures. Sunny was even able to take some video. It was a great end to
Needles Highway. The experience of riding Needles Highway would be memorable. We wanted to turn around and ride it again
but time wasn't on our side. We had a lot more to see. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FA20IxuivAE/UtMcpzktHsI/AAAAAAAAAic/wXfqf5uG8e4/s1600/20130816_140227.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FA20IxuivAE/UtMcpzktHsI/AAAAAAAAAic/wXfqf5uG8e4/s640/20130816_140227.jpg" width="640" /></a>Completing Needles
Highway, route 87 leads us back to route 16 for a couple miles then right onto
route 244. After a few miles we began picking up glimpses of our next
destination, Mount Rushmore. Mount Rushmore is said to be America's shrine to
Democracy. It is awesome. You can't help but just stare at its magnitude. <br />
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<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LFxAKFybKz4/UtR-hvdo7pI/AAAAAAAAAnw/khIkmLUViu8/s1600/20130816_194542.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LFxAKFybKz4/UtR-hvdo7pI/AAAAAAAAAnw/khIkmLUViu8/s320/20130816_194542.jpg" width="240" /></a>All Americans, in my opinion, should try to
visit this site. The sculptor of Mount Rushmore, Gutzon Borglum stated "I
did not and don't intend that (the Memorial) shall be just a damn big thing, a
three -day tourist wonder.<br />
<br />
A nation's memorial should, like Washington,
Jefferson, Lincoln and Roosevelt, have a serenity, a nobility, and power that
reflects the gods they have become. Herb, Sunny, Mark and I certainly experienced
the serenity, saw the nobility and felt the power of this magnificent
sculpture. We took our time soaking it all in and were still looking over our
right shoulders for more glances as we departed the grounds. It was a special
experience and one that would not easily be forgotten. From Mount Rushmore we pick up route 16 again
heading back to town but not before making one more stop. 8 miles from Mount Rushmore stands the World's Largest Mountain Carving, Crazy Horse Memorial.<br />
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This memorial is still in
progress and has been ongoing since 1948. When completed, the sculpture will be
563 feet high and 641 feet wide. The head of crazy horse is 87 feet high, 27
feet higher than the heads of the U.S. Presidents at Mount Rushmore. On the
site of this memorial is also the Indian Museum of North America and the Native
American Educational and Cultural Center. We explored the entire area enjoying
all of the Native American artifacts and speaking with other visitors.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Sunny
and I ventured outside where we found a magnificent bronze sculpture of 2
fighting stallions. It was so beautiful.<br />
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Leaving Crazy Horse Memorial we rode
the five miles back to town thinking about all that we had experienced on our
1st day of touring South Dakota. Our day ended with dinner at the Family
Restaurant and Ice cream at the Purple Pie Place. Tomorrow would be the longest day of our
entire trip.<br />
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It was already Saturday and a full day of riding was
planned. So far we were on schedule with everything. We hoped today would be
the same. We had a lot planned; Rapid
City, Sturgis, Wyoming, Montana, North Dakota and back to Custer, South Dakota
all in a day. An early start was required and we were off and running at 7:00am.
A back road trip to Rapid City was a
real nice early morning ride. It was just 40 miles but we took our time
enjoying the scenery and the rhythm of the road. No one spoke on their CB,
everyone just soaked in the experience. In
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Our destination, Black Hills Harley-Davidson. The dealership was just opening as we pulled
into the parking lot but venders outside were busy breaking down huge tents
that had been set up to accommodate the large crowds that were there the week
prior for the 2013 Sturgis Rally. Inside, Herb, Sunny and Mark hit the sale
racks but I headed for the parts and service department. Finally after riding
my Ultra over 2000 miles without a gas cap, I was handing out $20.13 for a new
one. Refusing to leave the dealership empty handed, Sunny found a beautiful red
leather jacket on sale. It matched her bike so she bought it. Across the highway from the dealership we rode
to a truck stop diner and settled in for a big breakfast. In an hour we are
back on the bikes and heading west to Sturgis.
Riding into town we saw the big hillside sign, <b>STURGIS</b>. <br />
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We parked behind
the Sturgis Motorcycle Museum, paid our $17.00 to get it and spend over an hour
viewing the bikes and artifacts both upstairs and downstairs. Mark and Herb
didn't realize that there was a lower floor so by the time Sunny and I finished
browsing they were already outside sitting under a big shade tree. After a
quick visit to the Sturgis Harley Dealership we stopped by the Hot Leathers
store, purchased a few small items, mounted the bikes, slowly toured the empty
town and headed back west toward Wyoming. Back on I-90 we exit at route 85
north and travelled to Belle Fourch, SD where we stopped for gas and Gatorade. My brother Mark convinced me to keep drinking Gatorade to alleviate my problem
of leg cramps. It worked for the entire trip. Leaving Belle Fourch we rode
route 212 northwest and within minutes we were rolling past the sign
WYOMING. <br />
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We weren't expecting to come up
on it so quickly so everyone made a U-turn in the middle of the road and went
back for pictures. Pushing through Wyoming, route 212 leads us into Montana. We
stopped at the border to take more pictures to prove that we had made it.
Montana is truly "Big Sky Country." It's the 4th largest state and you
can tell it when you are on a bike because the roads seem endless and the land
mass is unmistakable. We stopped in
Broadus, MT for gas then picked up route 59 north 80 miles to Miles City. After
Lunch we headed east on route 12, destination North Dakota Border, 100 miles
away. Route 12 was a straight lonely road with little more than land to admire.
We reached the border and once again pulled over to take pictures to prove our
whereabouts.<br />
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While at the Montana, North
Dakota Border I think we all realized that we would not make it back to Custer
before dark. It would be our first time riding in the dark, at least on this
trip and Custer was 230 away. We traveled route 12 to Bowman, ND before
stopping for gas and picking up route 85 back to South Dakota. It was now
7:35pm and the sun had set. The next 198 miles would be in the darkness. We
give each other a little more room between bikes and head due south. There's very few lights along the way, just
road, darkness and millions of bugs. Reaching
Belle Fourche at 9:30pm, we gas up, clean off our helmets and windshields, grab
a cup of coffee, relax a minute and mount up. We are still nearly 85 miles from
Custer. Leaving Belle Fourche we take I-90 east to 385 south. Passing Rapid
City we began to see familiar signs for Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse Memorial. By 11:35pm we pulled into the Rock Crest Lodge parking lot. We had made it home
safely but we were beat and extremely hungry. We had been out for nearly 18 hours. Everything
in town was closed except for the service station across the street. Sunny hit
the shower while Herb, Mark and I raided the service station for anything that
could be micro-waved. Pizza and hot dogs in hand and of course Mark's customary
end of the day cold beer, we headed back to our rooms ending the longest day of
our trip.<br />
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<br />
On Sunday morning we woke up with the sun shining on four of
the dirtiest bikes that I have seen in a while. They were covered with millions
of bugs from last night's experience of riding in the Dakota darkness. Today was supposed to be a day of relaxing at
the Lodge, checking out the bikes, packing clothes and preparing for our trip
home. By the time Sunny and I made our way to the office for coffee, Herb had
already made arrangements with the Lodge staff to have a water hose, bucket and
rags available for us to clean our bikes. I think that we walked to breakfast
that morning and upon our return to the Lodge we immediately started cleaning
the bikes. Sunny and I were busy cleaning our bikes when we were approached by
a gentleman from Nebraska. He and his family were there celebrating his mom's
84th birthday. His dad and mom were married in Custer in the 50s. His dad had
passed a few years ago and his mom wanted to return to Custer to renew her
memory of his dad. They asked Sunny if she would join them in the shaded area
that they had selected to celebrate. <br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_oy7eN_OL_o/UtRuxod2NAI/AAAAAAAAAnA/qxJnsGUfc5s/s1600/SAM_0223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_oy7eN_OL_o/UtRuxod2NAI/AAAAAAAAAnA/qxJnsGUfc5s/s1600/SAM_0223.JPG" width="400" /></a>They needed someone to take pictures of
the entire family. Of course Sunny joined them and I was stuck with cleaning
both bikes. Everything done, we were set to relax for the rest of the day but I
had a surprise for everyone. Over the past few days I had purposely steered
everyone away from a part of Peter Norbeck Scenic Byway that I felt was the
most dramatic. I called everyone together and explained to them that we were
going to take a ride that they will remember forever. I cautioned them about
the extremely sharp curves, switchbacks, stone tunnels and pigtail bridges that
drop and rise quickly. The gorgeous scenery should be appreciated but don't
take your eyes off the road for too long. It would be 17 miles of road that
engineers of the 30s once said could not be built. I explained the important of
gearing up or down and accelerating properly in some of the drastic turns to
prevent stalling. Everyone was excited. Sunny was a little apprehensive but it
only took a little bit of encouragement before she was ready for the
challenge. Kick stands up we rolled
straight through town on route 16. We entered Custer State Park and exited
still on route 16. Riding faster than we should, we passed our turnoff. Sunny
quickly radioed that she thought she just saw the sign on the left. Mark turned
around and back tracked to verify the sign. Sunny was right. We all U-turned and met with Mark in a matter
of seconds. We were all ready for the
challenge of Iron Mountain Road. Damn this is fun! Iron Mountain Road was
everything that everyone expected it to be. The ride was thrilling and challenging, and
the scenery was overwhelming. The turns,
curves, pigtail bridges and tunnels required all of the attention of an experienced
biker. It was fun with a touch of
danger. It deserves to be ridden more
than once but we just didn't have the time. It was time for us to make our way
back to the Lodge and prepare for tomorrow's departure East toward home. We finished our day with dinner in town and
another stop at the Purple Pie Place.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-za36ijBESDg/UtMbZJtuZqI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/QqDpOHVMB24/s1600/DSCN3483.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-za36ijBESDg/UtMbZJtuZqI/AAAAAAAAAiQ/QqDpOHVMB24/s1600/DSCN3483.JPG" width="400" /></a>As usual we were up early on Monday morning checking the
bikes, cleaning the windshields, loading the trailer and saddlebags and
ensuring that we didn't leave anything behind in our rooms. We rode down to the
office were Herb and Mark were already waiting for us. We had our morning cups
of coffee, paid our bills, and quickly discussed our plan for the day and
slowing rolled out of Custer heading north to Rapid City. Custer, SD had proven
to be the ideal staging area for our plan of touring that part of the country. I radioed Herb to see if everything was clear in the rear. He gave us the go. We
changed lanes, rolled back on the throttles, adjusted our positions, picked up
route 16 and in less than 45 minutes we were passing Rapid City and on I-90
East. Leaving I-90 at exit 110 and picking up route 240, it was close to 9:00am
and we were approaching the entrance to the last item on our bucket list,
"The Badlands". We stopped at the Badlands entrance sign where we
dismounted and took turns taking pictures of each other. Sign pictures completed we eased up to the entrance
booth, paid our $10:00 per bike and began to tour one of the most unusual
places in the country. "The
Badlands."</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0tc-bxMFU2A/UtMkpC-soAI/AAAAAAAAAlA/oSeikfR-ddg/s1600/DSCN3500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0tc-bxMFU2A/UtMkpC-soAI/AAAAAAAAAlA/oSeikfR-ddg/s1600/DSCN3500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0tc-bxMFU2A/UtMkpC-soAI/AAAAAAAAAlA/oSeikfR-ddg/s1600/DSCN3500.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<br />
I guess everyone has
their own take on the badlands. I found
it to be a strange, eerie, and ghostly place, yet very beautiful and extremely
interesting. It was like being on another planet with only a hand full of other
humans to keep you company. The "pull
over" points along Badlands Loop gave us breathtaking views and plenty of
room to walk around for great pictures... if you weren't afraid of the
rattlesnakes. But to ride the Badlands
Loop on your bike is just a wonderful and unforgettable experience.<br />
<br />
We all rode
in silence just taking it all in and wishing that we had the time to spend the
entire day there. We stopped at the Visitor's Center for breakfast and a few
more pictures before exiting the Badlands at the Northeast Entrance. A few
miles outside of the Northeast Entrance we pulled over to fill up our tanks at
the Badlands Trading Post near Philip, SD. <br />
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While some looked around inside
Sunny and I grabbed a cold drink and sat in the shade for over 30 minutes
watching prairie dogs play on a mound of dirt near our bikes. All of the items
on our touring list now completed, the only thing left to do was to head East.
Getting the " go ahead" from Herb, we cranked up the three Harleys
and the GoldWing, picked up I-90E, rolled back on the throttles and rode for
another 350 miles before calling it a day and spending the night at the Americ Inn
in Worthington, MN.<br />
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We rode all day Tuesday stopping only for gas and meals. Everything went great until we rode into the
vicinity of Chicago and immediately hit heavy traffic. We hoped that the
traffic wouldn't be backed up too long but we were wrong. We were in the left
lane and barely moving when my bike began to run hot. There was a lot of construction in the area that
left no shoulder on the left side for emergency stops so we began to slowly move through the traffic and work our way to the
far right lane where there was more room to stop if we had to. My bike was
still running hot but the right lane was moving just enough to keep it from
shutting down. Sunny has a <i>Baker 1 Oil Cooler</i> on her Ultra. I'm not sure how effective it really is but she had no
problem in the heavy traffic. Mark's Road King was still running cool and of
course Herb's reliable 1500 GoldWing just automatically kicked on the radiator
fan and kept moving forward. Gradually traffic picked up and the bike cooled
down but we were hot from sitting in the traffic so we exited the highway to
gas up and get something cool to drink. We were in Hammond on the Illinois and
Indiana border. After a brief break we
were ready to get back on the highway but without warning Mark's Road King was
dead. We checked everything and still nothing. Mark thought that maybe the Key
FOB battery was bad. I understand the security
that the FOB provides but I guess I'm just old fashion, its just one of those
items that I can do without on a bike. Luckily there was a drug store across
the street where Mark was able to buy a new battery. Once installed the Road
King roared to life and the problem was solved....at least for the moment.
Rolling back onto the combined Interstates of 80/90 we rode another 2 hours and
pulled into Elkhart, IN to spend the night. With the problems of very heavy
traffic around Chicago and Mark's bike not wanting to respond, we were still
able to cover <b>close to 650 miles for the day</b>. It was time for a good meal at
the Elkhart Crackle Barrel and then some rest.</div>
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Wednesday we were back to our regular schedule. We were all
up and ready at 6:00am, the bikes were gassed and at 6:28am we were rolling
East. There was no reason to say anything to anyone. We all knew that we were
going to ride hard all day to make it home before dark. We had approximately
750 miles to go. Herb did a CB check, cleared the rear and we rolled away from
the service station on Cassopolis St and onto Interstate 80/90. In 2 hours we
made our first gas stop in Genoa, OH., southeast of Toledo. We planned to
"gas and go" all the way home except for a quick lunch. Back on the
Ohio turnpike we pushed another 165 miles using I-80 into I-76 and stopping in
New Springfield, OH, dead south of Youngstown. We were making good time. We eat
a quick snack and were ready to roll in 30 minutes when Mark's Road King reared
its problem again. Eventually Mark was able to get his bike started but for the
rest of the trip, all 280 miles, he never turned off his bike again until he
reached his home in Sykesville, MD. Rolling out of New Springfield we quickly
crossed into Pennsylvania. Our next stop was in Bedford, PA. It was 2:00PM and
we still had plenty of daylight. All of us were familiar with the PA Turnpike,
it's curves, tunnels, and straight-aways so we were able to make excellent time
without much concern. So locked into tight formation we rolled back on the
throttles and let the big bikes work
like they are suppose to do. The next 20 miles passed quickly and before
we realized it we were approaching the Breezewood/Baltimore sign and exit. I
radioed everyone that we were taking this exit to accompany Mark home to
Maryland so that he wouldn't have to ride alone, especially with the problems
that he was having with his bike. Herb radioed back that he was going to remain
on the PA Turnpike and go straight home. He missed his "Honey", his
lovely wife Esther, and had called her at the last rest stop to tell that he
would be home soon. He had 217 miles to go.<br />
<br />
For the first time on this trip the
group was going to split but we all understood why. With Sunny and I accompanying
Mark we exited to the right, said our good- byes to Herb and picked up I-70E to
Maryland. The 107 miles to Sykesville
was an easy ride. This is the part of the country where Mark, Herb and I grew
up and we have always loved riding the beautiful rolling hills of western
Maryland. Sunny had ridden this area with me several times before too and had
always loved the scenery. By 4:00PM we pulled into a service station in Lisbon,
Md. It was Mark's last time that he would have to gas his Road King while it
was still running. He was less than 30 minutes from home. We all thought about
Herb because we were only a few miles from where he grew up in New London, MD.
We hoped that he was doing well riding alone down the PA Turnpike. We hugged
Mark because this would be our last stop together on this trip. Back on I-70E
it was only a few miles when Mark exited on route 32 heading to our childhood
home of Sykesville. We all blew our horns and waived and before we knew it Mark
was out of sight and Sunny and I were heading on I-70 toward Baltimore.
Approaching 695, the beltway around Baltimore, bright tail lights suddenly brought
us to a complete stop. Traffic is often heavy on the beltway around this time
of the day and we sort of expected some delay but we could tell that this was
more than just rush hour traffic. We hung with the cars until my bike once
again began to run hot. I looked at Sunny and nodded and she knew exactly what
I meant so she started clearing a way for us to move to the right shoulder so
that we could keep the bikes moving and hopefully cool them down. We were able
to reach the overpass and as we looked down on 695 we could see flashing police
lights in the far distance. The merging I-70 traffic was barely moving so we
stayed on the shoulder as far as we could then slowly worked our way into
traffic and gradually moved over to the left lane. It was the only lane that
was getting around the accident. It took a lot of time to get around the
accident that was blocking the two middle lanes. But once passed the accident
the beltway traffic opened up and so did Sunny and I. It was now past 5:00pm
and we were about 140 miles from home. We had enough gas to just about make it
so we pressed on still hoping to make it home before dark. Coming off the
beltway we picked up I-95N and held down the left lane until we crossed the
Delaware Memorial Bridge and rode under the "Welcome To New Jersey"
sign. Back on our own turf we felt comfortable and somewhat satisfied in
knowing that we had just about made it.
Sunny followed me as we maneuvered through the curves and picked up
I-295N. In less than an hour we were exiting 295 and onto route 38. At 7:00pm we stopped in Mt. Holly and gassed up the bikes. 15 miles to go and the sun
starting to set in our rear view mirrors we rode east on 38. 20 minutes later
we pulled into our driveway, turned off the bikes, gave each other a big hug and
recorded our mileage. We had covered <b>740 miles for the day in 13 hours</b> and had
made it home safely. We immediately contacted Herb and found that he too had
run into rush hour traffic and had been held up outside of Philadelphia but
arrived home safely about 30 minutes ahead of us. The trip completed, <b>we had ridden 4630 miles </b>and
completed everything on the <b>"Bucket List"</b> for this trip. It was a
wonderful trip that was made great by sharing it with my wife Sunny, my brother
Mark and my best friend Herb. <br />
<br />
Pictures and videos of the entire trip can be found on the
following sites. Please feel free to share these links with family and friends.<br />
<br />
<b>Picasa:</b> <a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/102316986521082254065/2013SummerRoadTrip?authuser=0&feat=directlink">https://picasaweb.google.com/102316986521082254065/2013SummerRoadTrip?authuser=0&feat=directlink</a></div>
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<b>YouTube:</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1KvJIXjfeg">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o1KvJIXjfeg</a></div>
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<b>YouTube:</b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nef7hMF0qpg">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nef7hMF0qpg</a></div>
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<b>FaceBook:</b> <a href="https://www.facebook.com/jan.emanuel/media_set?set=a.10151878508674131.1073741843.648554130&type=1">https://www.facebook.com/jan.emanuel/media_set?set=a.10151878508674131.1073741843.648554130&type=1</a></div>
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<b>Conclusion: </b>After reading all of this some of you may
ask if Mark ever found the cause of the problems that he was experiencing with
his <b>2007 Road King.</b> According to his Harley dealership in Frederick, Maryland,
the culprit behind the sporadic starting failures was no more than an
accumulation of dirt in the bike's starter and on the starter's contacts. The
starter was pulled, disassembled, cleaned, reassembled, reinstalled and Mark
hasn't had a problem with it since.</div>
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<b>Sunny's</b> <b>2008 Candy Red Sunglo Ultra Classic</b> with ABS brakes,
and progressive suspension made 37 gas stops on this trip costing her $504.02
in premium gas. Her bike was the only
one that experienced absolutely no problems on the trip.</div>
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<b>TC's 2010 Flame Blue Pearl Ultra Classic</b> with standard
brakes, air suspension and Screaming Eagle air filter, pulling a Hannigan
Aerodynamic Sierra trailer also made 37
gas stops on this trip costing him $508.70 in premium gas. (Just $4.68 more
than Sunny and I pulled the trailer the entire trip) The only problem I
experienced was the bike running hot in heavy traffic.<br />
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<b>Herb's 1997 Pearl Black GoldWing </b>continued to rack up the
miles. It made this trip without a hiccup except for the brief period without a
headlight. Watching and riding with Herb you would never believe that he is <i><b>82
years old</b></i>. He and I have covered tens of thousands of miles together and know
each other's riding styles so well that we travel the highways and country
roads in rhythmic cadence like we were still in the military. I'm always proud
to see the expressions on the faces of so many people who are pleasantly
surprised when they learn that Herb is 82 and still riding strong.</div>
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After posting
vacation pictures on Facebook I received a lot of calls and comments from
friends who were surprised to see me riding a Harley-Davidson Ultra Classic. For
years they have seen me touring only on my Honda GoldWing so naturally they
wanted me to make a comparison. Here's
my opinion, not by any means an expert opinion, just the personal opinion of
someone whose been riding since 1958 and who has owned a lot of different
bikes. I thoroughly enjoyed touring on my 2002 Goldwing. It was extremely
comfortable, handled like a sports bike, had plenty of power, pulled my trailer
like it wasn't there and was more dependable than my car. I had over 100,000 touring miles on my Wing
when it was totaled in an oil slick accident on my way to Americade a couple
years ago. In all of that travel I was never once left on the highway because
of a maintenance problem with my Wing, not even a flat tire. So you can see why
I loved it so much. My 2010 Harley-Davidson Ultra is a nice bike but of course
different from my Wing. I didn't find it as comfortable to ride for long
distances but that may have been for a couple reasons. First, I had just had
shoulder surgery for a torn rotator cuff just three months prior to the trip.
Shoulder surgery is painful so I really don't think that I would have been
comfortable regardless of what I was riding. Cruise control really helped me
cope with the pain because it allowed me to drop my right arm every half hour
or so to allow it to rest. Secondly, I didn't find the Ultra's seat to be as
comfortable as that of the Wing....but that may not be because of the seat. It
may be because I am now 70 and have lost a great deal of my "natural
cushion" from my butt. The Ultra performed very well pulling my trailer
the entire way without any strain. I was disappointment but not surprised when
it ran hot so quickly in heavy traffic. But I'm elated to know that the recent
changes that Harley has made in their new Project Rushmore series incorporates
radiators for liquid cooling. That
should practically eliminate the overheating. What bothered me more than anything or I
should say what I missed more than anything on my Ultra vs my Wing was the fact
that I didn't have REVERSE. Pushing that Ultra around with the trailer attached
and using these old legs proved to be a real chore especially in some of the
areas that we visited on this tour. REVERSE is wonderful on big touring bikes
whether you are pulling a trailer or not. I would love to see Harley have
REVERSE as standard equipment on all of their Electra Glides. I enjoy riding both of these bikes and I don't
put one above the other. I simply accept the characteristics of each and make
the adjustments as I ride. Most of today's bikes are very dependable so
selection comes down to simply personal choice. For me I wish that the Wing sounded like the
Harley and I wish that the Harley handled like the Wing. Other than that I'll
ride either one without complaining. Right now I'm enjoying adding all of the
personal choice accessories to the Ultra to identify it as mine.</div>
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It’s already January, five months after our summer trip out
West. Planning will begin soon for our next one. Preliminary plans are for us
to tour Maine and all of Nova Scotia. Anyone
up for a ride? </div>
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See you on the road,</div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>"TC", Herb "KingWing", Mark, and
"Sunny The Diva"</i></div>
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<br /></div>
USBCFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02629564104313658692noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8522532058336666515.post-608655389203724802012-09-08T11:46:00.000-07:002012-09-08T11:49:48.096-07:00Mission of Honor - Brick, NJOn Friday, 7 September 2012 the United States Black Cavalry Family (USBCF) and friends from the NJ Buffalo Soldiers and the Blue Knights participated in the honorable burial of six (6) veterans who served during World War II and the Korean War. When these veterans died their remains were never claimed and so they were cremated and placed on funeral home selves throughout the state of New Jersey, never receiving the proper burial that should be accorded all American veterans.<br />
<br />
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A wonderful organization here in New Jersey has made it their mission to locate, identify and inter orphaned and abandoned cremains of American Veterans from all over New Jersey and provide a proper and honorable burial at a New Jersey State Veterans Memorial Cemetery. These interments are with full Military Honors, a Mahogany Urn, Bronze Military Emblem, and a US Flag. The name of this organization is <b>THE NEW JERSEY'S MISSION OF HONOR FOR CREMAINS OF AMERICAN VETERANS</b>. It is led by its Co-Founder, and Chairman, Mr. Francis Carrasco, a man totally dedicated to the organization's mission.. Today we had the honor of assisting them in there mission. We met at the American Legion, Brick Memorial Post 348, Brick, NJ.
The initial ceremony was hosted by the Brick Memorial Post and held on their beautiful grounds. Dignitary Albert Bucchi, Director NJ Department of Military and Veteran Affairs and American Legion Dignitaries, including State Commander, Gene O'Grady, Legion Riders and bikers from across the state were in attendance to honor the six deceased Veterans and to finally escort them to their final resting place of honor, The Brigadier General William C. Doyle Veterans' Memorial Cemetery, in Wrightstown, NJ.<br />
<br />
Today was the 15th Mission of Honor Tribute to Forgotten Veterans. We were proud to be a part of it and hope to further support their mission in the future.<br />
<br />
Those honorably interred today were:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li> Charles B. Elterich (1922 – 1997) US Navy – World War II </li>
<li> Charles A. Martin (1923 – 1993) US Navy – World War II </li>
<li> Frederick W. Sparlin (1922 – 2002 US Navy – Korean War </li>
<li> Robert V, Loeb (1923 – 2003) US Navy - World War II </li>
<li> John S. Harris, Jr. (1929 – 1999) US Army – Korean War </li>
<li> Felix E. Willette (1916 – 2002) US Navy – World War II</li>
</ul>
USBCFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02629564104313658692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8522532058336666515.post-33667082138617842942012-03-03T18:45:00.006-08:002012-03-03T19:23:37.206-08:00A Presentation to the Residents at The Juvenile Justice Commission - March 2, 2012<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LXdUafLSUIY/T1LYd4aXMgI/AAAAAAAAAW4/t3I9jj_ELEw/s1600/SANY0003.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LXdUafLSUIY/T1LYd4aXMgI/AAAAAAAAAW4/t3I9jj_ELEw/s320/SANY0003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5715868884957344258" /></a><br />Although Black History Month may have ended, members of the United States Black Cavalry Family (USBCF) continue to educate young men and women in their communities and those confined in special programs. Yesterday “TC”, “Sunny”, and “Big T” traveled to Camden, New Jersey to address young men assigned to the Camden Residential Community Home and Transitional Program. This program is under the New Jersey Juvenile Justice Commission (JJC).<br /><br />The Juvenile Justice Commission is committed to providing a continuum of care that prepares juveniles to return to their communities at the completion of their sentences. Transitional programs provide an integral step that helps juveniles succeed upon their release.<br /><br />The USBCF was invited to address 20 of these young men by the program’s superintendent, Mr. Furqan Sharif and Rev. Jonathan Cook. It was another afternoon well spent by members of the USBCF fulfilling their mission of assisting those in need.USBCFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02629564104313658692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8522532058336666515.post-35085278328608228872012-01-25T19:39:00.000-08:002012-01-25T19:39:31.427-08:00Red Tails<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/aq2zx4OaeO" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right;margin-bottom:1em;margin-left:1em"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-q1Hoikl__cY/TyDHpGH8isE/AAAAAAAAAK8/YSP-2tNQM70/s160-c/RedTails.jpg"></a>USBCFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02629564104313658692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8522532058336666515.post-45401346720920444272012-01-25T19:08:00.000-08:002012-01-25T19:42:20.927-08:00Celebrating a Legacy - Dr. Hayling an original Tuskegee Airman<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0WGY5_ASjIo/TyDEoLrplVI/AAAAAAAAAFE/tUD38xbcFQQ/s1600/SANY0005.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0WGY5_ASjIo/TyDEoLrplVI/AAAAAAAAAFE/tUD38xbcFQQ/s320/SANY0005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701773322860729682" /></a><br />On Sunday, January 22, 2012, The United States Black Cavalry Family (U.S.B.C.F) was proud to pay special honor today to one of America's Heroes, Dr. Leslie Hayling, an original Tuskegee Airman.<br /><br />Early last week Jan and I contacted Dr. Hayling's wife to determine if Dr. Hayling would like to be escorted to the showing of the movie "Red Tails". Without hesitation and with a lot of enthusiasm Dr. Hayling agreed. We set the date for the 4:15 showing today. We decided that we would pick them up at 3:30. Plans were made to have a motorcycle escort made up of riders from the United States Black Cavalry Family and members of the NJ Buffalo Soldiers Mother Chapter. The recent freezing temperatures, snow and black ice were not parts of the plan and Dr. Hayling and his lovely wife were concerned that if it did snow we would not be able to make the scheduled escort that he was so looking forward to.<br /><br />I contacted "BrotherWolf" and "Bemoe", President and VP of the NJ Buffalo Soldiers, my best friend Herb "King Wing" Dorsey and my presentation partner "Big T". All agreed that they would support us regardless of the weather. My challenge now was to convince Jan, who is from California, that she could ride in extreme cold weather, and ride safely around patches of snow and black ice. She finally agreed because she didn't want to disappoint the Haylings or break our promise to them.<br /><br />It was below 30 degrees this morning and I received two calls from friends who couldn't get their bikes out of their garages because of the ice and snow. But they all agreed to drive their cars. I got up at 7am, rode the course to insure that it was negotiable, made changes were necessary because some Trenton streets had not been cleared and was back home by 10am. Jan and I cleared our driveway, got the bikes out and were ready to ride when "Big T" pulled up in his Lincoln SUV. We rolled slowly to our meeting spot about 15 miles away. Our first thought was to get some coffee to warm up but as we reached the parking lot to our surprise Herb, Rob, "Big Mitch", "Thor", "Special K", "BrotherWolf", "Bemoe" and "Batman" were already there waiting. The Haylings would have there escort after all, maybe not all on motorcycles but an escort nonetheless.<br /><br />We arrived at the Hayling home on time and before we could shut down the engines and get a camera out, Dr. Hayling was coming out the house and down the steps. He was really anxious to see the bikes and to have his first experience with bikers. We all greeted him and his son Leslie Jr. and "Big T" and Herb got them settled in the Lincoln. We kissed his wife good bye as she waited and watched from the steps above then started our duty of escorting a hero to a showing of a movie depicting a part of his life. As we arrived some patrons were coming out of the theater. I asked them if they had just viewed the movie "Red Tails". When they said yes I explained to them that one of the original Tuskegee Airmen was sitting in the SUV and if they were willing to wait a few minutes they could meet him. Before long the crowd grew and everyone wanted a picture. Jan went inside and worked with the theater staff to get preferential seating for our group. Once everything was ready, the Black Cavalry and the Buffalo Soldiers lined the entrance way to the theater and saluted as Dr. Hayling walked through us and into the theater. We all thoroughly enjoyed the movie and I enjoyed seeing the proud expressions on Dr. Hayling's face as he watched. As the credits rolled at the end I stood and announced to the audience that they had just shared a viewing of the movie with an original Tuskegee Airman, then introduced Dr. Hayling. Everyone cheered and applauded and reached out to touch him or to shake his hand. It was a wonderful experience for all in attendance.<br /><br />Dr. Hayling and his son as well as the Cavalry and the Soldiers were swamped in the lobby with questions and request for pictures. We finally left the theater about an hour after the movie ended. Only 5 of us remained to escort Dr. Hayling back to his home. Jan, Rob and I each on our bikes and Herb and Big T in the Lincoln with Dr. Hayling and his son. The temperature had dropped, the roads and streets were less than desirable, it was dark and we had 35 miles to go before we were home.<br /><br />When we reached Dr. Hayling home he and his son really expressed how grateful they were and they presented us with copies of a speech made by another Tuskegee Airman, COL. George S. "Spanky" Roberts, United States Air Force, (Retired) during a Black History Presentation at the Smithsonian Institute, in Washington, DC on 25 February 1983. The speech gives an excellent review of how the Tuskegee Airmen were formed and operated.<br /><br />Jan and I wish to thank all who participated and a special thanks to Dr. Hayling and his family for allowing us to honor them.<br /><br />Jan and I arrived home safely around 8:30pm with her on my bike and me on hers............but that's another story!USBCFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02629564104313658692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8522532058336666515.post-73796770776992046822011-06-16T07:39:00.000-07:002011-06-16T07:47:58.320-07:00Much More Than...We are much more than a typical motorcycle club. We are a Community Action Group. We are men and women who strive to find ways to improve the lives of people in our own community – some of us just happen to ride motorcycles. We welcome those couples and individuals who have like values and interest. We are looking for “Quality” not “Quantity”. We want men and women who are ready, willing and able to put in the work without reward. A simple thank you is sufficient! If you are interested in becoming a member of the Family (Rider, Foot Soldier or Supporter), please do not hesitate to join us.<br />
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For more information, go: <a href="http://www.usbcf.com/rules.htm">www.usbcf.com/rules.htm</a><br />
USBCFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02629564104313658692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8522532058336666515.post-51979372009554935992011-06-15T13:11:00.001-07:002011-06-16T08:01:50.624-07:00Some Things Are Worth The Wait<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vnuspv_k-AQ/TfkR4a9Gx8I/AAAAAAAAAAU/z9MmiWzO0Zs/s1600/USBCF-Full-Set-1-773339.jpg"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vnuspv_k-AQ/TfkR4a9Gx8I/AAAAAAAAAAU/z9MmiWzO0Zs/s320/USBCF-Full-Set-1-773339.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618541671127369666" /></a></p><html><body><span style="font-family:Verdana; color:#FFFFFF; font-size:10pt;"><div>We are proud to announce the long awaited <strong>United States Black Cavalry Family "USBCF"</STRONG> colors have arrived.</div><div> </div><div>This is the most intricate design of colors ever produced for an association of this caliber. USBCFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02629564104313658692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8522532058336666515.post-86422627928053480372011-06-15T11:53:00.000-07:002011-06-15T11:53:24.904-07:00The Legacy Continues... <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.usbcf.com/images/usbcimageov.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="465" width="233" src="http://www.usbcf.com/images/usbcimageov.gif" /></a></div><br />
The United States Black Cavalry Family “USBCF” launches its new organization and website.<br />
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We hope you will join us on our journey as we continue to educate the community about our ancestors who paved the way and help to make America what it is today.<br />
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If you are interested in becoming a member of the family, please check us out on the web at www.USBCF.com.<br />
USBCFhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02629564104313658692noreply@blogger.com0