Happy Belated Fourth and Four Easy Stamps, yeah right!

A long four day holiday found me working mostly--at least that's my story and I'm sticking to it. Consequently, I missed amassing another huge chunk of miles. I had planned a weekend ride that would have added 1200 miles to the odo.  As they say, "this too shall pass." I am attempting to finish up overdue work so that when I leave for the BMW MOA International Rally in TN, the work will not be among my luggage. 

Still, I could not NOT ride (forgive the bad grammar). So, I decided to compromise and hunt for local stamps. For those who don't know, the National Park Service, to encourage visits to national parks, battlefields, historic sites, National Memorials, National Parks, Wild Rivers, National Seashores--and a host of other historically important places, sells a "Passport To Your National Parks" booklet that allows you to collect stamps and amass ink stamp (imprints) to mark your visits. The Iron Butt Association, those obsessive-compulsive long distance riders (I'm a wannabe) has a National Parks ride that requires a visit to 25 different states and proof of those visits with 50 stamps. Sounds easy enough, right? Well, even when you're out hunting for local stamps, stuff happens that adds a degree of challenge to acquiring the stamps. My ride on July 3 is a perfect example.

Because of work I decided to get up early make four stops and pick up four Illinois stamps. The whole thing should have taken a couple of hours if I took a direct route--I did not.  Still, I had things fairly well planned. I would hit Willow Springs to pick up the stamp at the Little Red School House Nature Center. Then on to Lockport, IL, where the Gaylord Building stands at Lincoln Landing. Zip on over to Joliet, IL where a stamp awaited at the Joliet Area Historical Museum. Last stop, a nice ride to Morris, IL for a stop at Gebhard Woods State Park that would allow me to follow a bit of Rt. 66 too.  A quick lunch and home to get back to work. This entire ride is familiar to me as each stop travels through part of the Illinois & Michigan Canal National Heritage Corridor, which I've done before. It is never boring with its parks and canals, dams and nature preserves along the way.

Well...here's the deal. The Little Red School house was closed. 

I had asked if they were open but what I didn't ask is whether the Visitors Center was open. The trails were open but not the office! So, no stamp!  I did enjoy the message printed on the red sign about loud noises, like that coming from a radio, annoy both people and animals. 

On to Lockport. The Gaylord Building stood proudly in the distance as I motored along Lockort's main drag.  

The GPS led me to a street that I couldn't turn into but a quick ride over the bridge and a turn around in a swanky country club put me back on track.  The Gaylord Building, which is not in its original location is a beautiful old place made of "cream-colored dolomite limestone." If you've seen Chicago's Water Tower, you'll see the same bumpy stone popular of that era (1800s).

I spent a lot of time in the building, viewing a video, touring the exhibits where there was also a special exhibit on Lincoln.

On the first floor of the building is a nice looking, upscale restaurant, The Landing, that I definitely want to check out in the future. The women at this center were amazingly helpful and cheery. First successful stamp capture of the day!  At their suggestion, I made a quick stop at the Will County Historical Society across the street but they didn't have any stamps so I moved 

on to Joliet.

Joliet Area Historical Museum (JAHM) is an excellent stop. 

Incredibly helpful folks. There is the kind of reception that always makes me want to tour a place, watch the video(s) and leave a donation! I had a grand time there--gave my brain lots of new information. I;m very familiar with this geographical area but I never appreciated the role that Joliet played in the industrial period. I enjoyed the exhibits here immensely.

I will return to do it more justice as Joliet has some amazing architecture that I didn't have time to capture. In hindsight, I should have at least taken a photo of the Rialto Square Theatre, called "The Jewel of Joliet."  

When I ask for the cancellation stamp, the woman is eager and excited. She pulls out the ink pad and her stamp. She looks curiously at the stamp. She searches and searches and says, "I guess the '09 hasn't come in yet. I called them back in May and I guess they haven't sent it yet--oh darn." Had she not be such a sweet, helpful woman I would have been a bit upset. So I had her sign and date my Passport. I don't think it will count, but she and I both felt good about walking away with something. I shall return to the Old Joliet Prison--it is an interesting place. And here's something I just learned: The prison may be turned into a tourist center to 

capitalize on the Rt. 66 mania. 

It would make for an interesting site if they don't over commercialize it and teach the history of the place and the prison system in this area. I plan to return to the site to exploit the photo opportunities. The place is now dilapidated and desolate, which should make for some dramatic early morning or near nightfall pictures.

The helpful folks at the JAHM told me to take Rt. 6 to Morris. It added to the length of the trip but it was worth it. The ride took me through the hugely industrial areas and backyards of Joliet. I passed but did not stop at the Brandon Road Lock and Dam, built in 1923 and opened to barge traffic in 1933. 

So far, three stops and only one legitimate stamp. 

Gebhard Woods State Park is a lovely and inviting place where fishing, hiking, biking along the canal, or just hanging out is an excellent way to spent some time.

I called the park from the JAHM because the clerk thought the office might not be open given that it was July 3rd? I called and the automated voice said they were open, the the trails were open and to "come on over." As I pulled in, I noticed that the sign in the park window said, "Open." Good.

After parking the bike and watching some families fishing, I walk to the window. The large "Open" is the only bright thing in the window. The place is dark and obviously closed. Now, I am ticked. Adjacent to the building is a garage and  I see a man without a shirt and low hanging pants walk in the garage. I watch him. He is talking loudly to someone on the inside.  They are talking about cars. I wait. And wait. And wait. When the shirtless man goes back to fishing, I walk toward the garage. I ask if the office is open as the sign indicates. The young man looks puzzled and hesitantly says it is. I tell him why I am there and he continues looking befuddled but tells me to follow him. The garage is big and dark in its deepest interior. I hesitate about following him. "Do you mean literally follow you?"  He says,  "Yes."  We walk through a very black hallway that leads into the closed office. 

He searches for the stamp and ink pad and find them quickly. He rotates the stamp. He keeps rotating it. Then he searches more. Then he says, "I don't have a stamp with 2009 on it. We just have the one that goes up to 2008." I am incredulous. I gently plead for him to search again. He does. His stamp goes up to 2008. For the second time I ask someone to stamp with a '08 stamp. After stamping with the old stamp, I ask for him to legitimate it. He apologetically complies. He initials the book and writes in the current date.  

Four stops and only one legitimate stamp to show for it. 

Oh well, the ride and roads were great; the weather could not have been more perfect. Lots of motorcycle sightings. And the privilege of riding a motorcycle that I love more and more with each passing mile.  Just priceless.

Whether you celebrate the holiday or not, hope your weekend was a great and safe one!

Stamp total = 1 & 2 that probably won't count.  

Clipped wings…No Cuba, No Peru

My wings felt clipped this weekend. So, I am glad in some ways to see it pass. A ton of incomplete work is squeezing the breath from me. Glad this too shall pass because it’s painful, relatively speaking, to sit at a computer and stare at a screen where the words simply refuse to appear easily. Some famous writer once said writing is easy, all you have to do is open up a vein. On the other hand, I’m also not thrilled to see the weekend go as it signals that yet another 48 hours have elapsed and I’m still not where I need to be in my task. I need more time but I’ve had too much time already.Thus, my plans to visit Peru and Cuba remain unfulfilled. Internally, I’m whining and that feeling of being constrained is both distracting and blocking. I did an errand on the ‘cycle, which should have taken 30 minutes tops. Took me nearly 2 hours as I found all kinds of reasons for other errands that had to be done. Riding is more than a physical act. It is also spiritual and can be a muse of sorts. To ride safely, one needs to be completely focused on the task and perhaps doing that, helps loosen up other regions of the brain to let the creative juices flow. Sometimes taking a very long walk will have the same effect and something I‘ve been puzzling over all becomes clear. I should have taken a short 50 miles ride--it would have done wonders for me, I‘m sure about that. It is my fault that I am shackled (more or less) this weekend. I have only myself to blame. A too full plate will eventually topple.

When shall I learn? This is not unfamiliar territory. Still, it’s got to end this week. A long weekend is on the horizon and the sweet scent of freedom beckons me.

Feeling sorry for myself this weekend made me think of a poem by one of my favorite poets, Paul Lawrence Dunbar, appropriately titled “Sympathy.”

I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals--
I know what the caged bird feels!

I know why the caged bird beats his wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
And they pulse again with a keener sting--
I know why he beats his wing!

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,--
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings--
I know why the caged bird sings!
Paul Laurence Dunbar

When I am free, I shall visit Dayton, OH where Dunbar is from. There is a National Parks stamp I can collect on him. He was a classmate of one of the Wright brothers, so I can also retrieve an aviation stamp to honor their contributions to flight. I shall also visit Woodland Cemetery where Dunbar is buried and say a special thanks to him for poems I first read as a child.

Remembering...

Early Wednesday morning, I went for a ride before going to work. I was out and on the road by 5:10am. I wanted to catch the sunrise, which the online sunrise/sunset chart said would occur at 5:17a.m.. I knew just where to go too. I didn't even think about sharing my capture on this site, although I did put it on flickr where I house much of my photography.

Then, today I was at Redleg's Rides blog and he writes about and shares his photographs taken during the "Golden Hour."  His mention of the Golden Hour instantly got me to thinking about my morning out and my success at catching the sunrise, another brief and important window of time when the light is sweet and pure and the color that shines down and out from it, is warm and glowing and beautiful. One is rewarded whenever the magic of a sunrise is witnessed. 

Photography is light and light-play is always an amazing thing to behold and try to freeze for later memories.

This has been a sad news day that has made me remember. 

I grew up with Farrah Fawcett and "Charlie's Angels." She had a light bulb smile and seemed to love Ryan O'Neal forever and a day, in ways that he seemed overwhelmed by and only later seemed to easily return. Her death was expected. Still, it was sad.  Then I heard about Michael Jackson's demise this afternoon. What a brilliant, gifted but also tragic figure. It's a sad story. 

I loved the Jackson 5. I remember them dancing up a storm on the Ed Sullivan Show. I bought their records and sang their songs.  Something changed for me, though, when the group disbanned and he took on a solo career. Still, I'd stop to watch his magical feet dance and hear his silky voice deliver his latest hit--songs he wrote.  "Thriller" is an album of genius.  Listen to "Billie Jean." Something tragic seems to happens to many uber-celebrities, particularly those who step into fame and fortune early.  Eventually, he just seemed to me to be stunted mentally/emotionally and never grew up.

To me, his physical metamorphosis and increasingly strange and controversial personal life began to overshadow his genius and I simply lost interest--that is, until I'd hear an old Jackson 5 tune on the radio and I'd remember the teenage memories and the prodigy from Gary, Indiana.

On my ride this past Sunday, a Jackson 5 tune came on the XM radio, it was, "I Want You Back," and I sang along to the top of my lungs inside my helmet. I remember thinking how I should download some of the J5 on my Ipod because those old tunes would make great motorcycle riding music.  I will do that...

Remembering memories...

First, Portugal...now Brazil and Paris!

I had planned another Iron Butt Saddle Sore 1000 for Sunday. My route would be a simple one. I would leave by 3:30am and return home 10pm. But the anticipation must have gotten to me for I didn’t sleep well the night before, which isn’t the way to start—and finish—a LD ride. So, I scrapped my SS and decided on something more fun. I guess you can say I did a half SS as the mileage totaled a bit over 500 for the day.

Following on the heels of Portugal, I decided to take a visit to Brazil and then on to Paris. Okay, so it’s Brazil, Indiana and Paris, IL but still… I was on the road by 6am because I was determined to have breakfast at Shaprio’s in Indianapolis and get back home before nightfall. I succeeded on both accounts.

I took the interstate getting to Indianapolis but after that, I knew getting to Brazil and Paris would allow me some nice country roads and old two lane highways. Given that it was Father’s Day, I felt a nice connection with my deceased father who fought in the Korean “War” as I rode along stretches of the Korean War Veterans Memorial Highway.

My Sunday ride was a welcomed relief from stamps hunting. For a change, I took my time and enjoyed this ride. I even turned on the new XM satellite radio! A cloudy sky with dark threatening clouds in some places kept reminding me that it might rain today. Even at 6am the temps were in the 70s and humid. I wore a comfortable summer jacket with lots of open flaps and my mesh pants with knee and hip armor. I love these pants even though they make me look like I’ve packed stolen goods in each hip.

After an easy three hours, I pulled into my favorite eatery--Shapiro’s Deli. It is nearly 10:30 EST I have driven basically straight through. I usually lunch here so breakfast here will be a treat. I order pancakes. When they arrive, I gasp. They are mammoth—and scrumptious! I barely ate half. I wanted so badly to buy lunch too but given the hot weather, I thought better of it. I didn’t want to fuel the wrath of salmonella.

Before leaving Indianapolis, I learned in some former research that near Shapiro’s is a spot that was a terminus on the Underground Railroad. This was a totally unexpected discovery. The place is now the Slippery Noodle, a rather famous blues joint. It is also the oldest bar in the state.

Crown Hill Cemetery was my next Indianapolis stop.
It’s a vast place (3rd largest in the country) and several people are buried there whom I wanted to locate.


Top on my list were Benjamin Harrison, 23rd President, and his two wives. I stopped in the office and they pointed out his plot on the map. After the death of his first wife, Harrison remarried. His second marriage was to his wife’s niece, who happened to be 25 years younger. According to a couple of sources, his two adult children (41 and 38 years old) were ticked at old Dad! They did not attend the wedding to show their disapproval of his marriage to their first cousin, which made the child from this second wife, their sister as well as second cousin. I asked also about the infamous John Dillinger, who is also interred there. I found none of the graves I was looking for, but I still enjoyed myself. It’s a massive layout. I thought of the “loud pipe saves lives” bikes rumbling through this cemetery—and chuckled at the thought of “waking the dead.“ I was happy my bike is smooth and quiet—no complaints from the residents.



Brazil, Indiana

Riding to Brazil was a joy. US 40 parallels I-70W so I took US40. Brazil is supposed to have an interesting county courthouse and a Carnegie funded public library.



Carngegie funded libraries everywhere—or so it seems.


I read something that said Brazil streets were in bad shape, that the brick roadbed is exposed in many places and that one can see that the brick is actually in better condition than the top street. The roads were bumpy but didn’t seem any worse than other roads I’ve encountered. Nice small rural town that appears to have seen better times--haven’t we all, though? I saw two oldish teens on scooters who eyeballed me and the bike. They must have been doing some serious dirt riding with those scooters as they were filthy boys, with completely dirty shirts. I pulled in behind them at a stop light and kept my eyes on them. I noticed that both young men had cigarettes hanging from their mouth. RWS (riding while smoking).

Know the name Erwin “Cannonball” Baker? He was an award winning motorcycle racer back in the day. Born in 1882, he set a slew of records. In 1908, he bought an Indian motorcycle and the rest, as they say, is history. Sounds like he was the Michael Jordan of this time--only on two wheels. Take a look at this dapper gent.

Before leaving Brazil, don't forget to stop at Eddie's Sandwich Shoppe.



It was closed but looks like a neat little place. It's been around since 1931 and they're known for their "little" hamburgers.

Paris, Illinois

I rode to Paris to get more pics. They too have a noteworthy county courthouse.


It’s an easy trip from Brazil. I took US 40, which by the way, is one of the US National Roads. This led me to US 150 for miles and then Route 1, right into town. Paris is in Edgar County and they have their own little historical buildings complex.



They really do have an absolutely gorgeous county court building.


I took way too many pics of it but couldn’t help myself. Paris, IL is on the map also for having 4 buildings on the National Registry of Historic Places—that’s pretty dang impressive for a town so small.

The Edgar County Courthouse is one of the National Historic sites. Hey, I wonder if I could have picked up some stamps here. Hmmm? Oh, well…

Paris is also famous for Carl Dean Switzer. Know that name? It’s great Jeopardy game show knowledge. Both Carl and his brother were childhood actors whom almost everyone has seen on the silver screen. Does, Our Gang ring a bell? Remember Alfalfa? Remember that bad falsetto voice that cracked whenever he tried to sing? Well Alfalfa, aka Carl Dean Switzer, was born in Paris, IL! Yes! Alfalfa comes from Paris, IL! Both he and his brother (who played in the gang) were discovered when they were on a trip to CA. At the time, they were already fairly big in Paris, IL.

I left Paris, IL with every intention of heading to Champaign, IL to have a late lunch at another of my favorite restaurants, Nitaya Thai for crabmeat fried rice. But when I arrived at the Champaign turn off, I was feeling good and just didn’t want to stop. Big mistake. I should have stopped and eaten for a couple of reasons. I felt hungry the last two hours of the trip. I also rode through three separate, brief, bursts of rain—one rather heavy. Nothing to write home about but I probably would have avoided them had I stopped. In the end, this was a trip of pure fun.
Arrived home long before dark. Energized, hungry and history geekism, completely satisfied.

Miles completed: 531
Fun factor 10/10
XM radio -- priceless! (I listened to NPR, CNN and '70s tunes!)

Happy Ride to Work Day!

I am back from Portugal. Time flies when the shackles are off. 

This is the second consecutive RTWD that I've missed.  Before leaving for Portugal,  I dropped off Jesse Owens at Motoworks Chicago to get the Fuzeblock installed.  The shop isn't open on Monday so I'm bikeless. 

 If I walk slowly, I can make it to work in ten minutes so riding to work doesn't make much sense.  But if I had my bike, later, when rush hour had thinned, and the cabbies were on simmer and the streets were less angry, I'd hop on Jesse and make a ceremonial pass of the building and give it a little nod.  

Hope you were able to ride to work today or just ride to a favorite destination! 

Ride safe!