From the Library

[Biggles]

Victoria should be proud of itself. It has created the single most boring road in all of creation and stocked it with police cyborgs. I saw four different patrol cars taxing motorists for exceeding the 110 km/h limit on a road one could do 200 km/h on with absolute confidence. It's a road I have done 200 km/h on. It used to be the road you made up time on during your trip to Melbourne by putting your head down, your bum up, and aiming for the horizon with the throttle nailed to the stop. It was the done thing.
But not anymore. Now it's just a magically eternal cash register for the government.
But I grinned, I bore it, I agreed with Jon Bon Jovi that there should be no silent prayer for the faith-departed, and then I turned off the Hume at Euroa. The Merton Gap warmed the edge of my tyres, Marc Bolan informed me that Telegram Sam was my main man, and I pulled up outside the Country Club Hotel in Yea right on sundown. A light rain had just started greasing up the roads.
Jamie handed me a filthy scotch as I lurched through the pub doors, stiff from the road. We toasted my safe arrival, put on our gear and made for Uncle's house like vampires fleeing the dawn. One hour later, and ten hours and forty minutes after I left Sydney, I was in the warm embrace of good mates. There was a great fire, a functioning hot water system, several fridges full of beer, and a safe place to rest my head. Done right, this motorcycling caper rewards the soul on many levels.
My Mother Warned Me About Blokes Like Me  Boris Mihailovik  p261-2

[Biggles]

When I returned from taking Tom home, I needed to find a place to park the Wing. We didn't have a garage so I parked the bike in our carport, in the space where my pickup normally sat. I did not want to leave it outside. Our house had a double front door and a large living room. Since Marguerite would be in Omaha for some time to come, and my son and I were the only ones home, I decided to park the Wing in the living room, right in front of the fireplace. As I rolled the Wing through the double doors onto the carpet, the words of my friend who told me to get a Goldwing, ran through my head. "They don't leak and they don't break." It took a little manoeuvring, but I finally got the Wing settled into a position and dropped the kickstand. A Goldwing looks a lot bigger sitting in your living room, than it does outside!
I found myself strangely tired, so I went to the kitchen and mixed myself a large drink. I returned to the living room, sat in my easy chair, stared at the Wing, and thought about what I had just done.
Winging It  Marguerite & William Spicer  p11

[Biggles]

Coming off the Keys, I missed the turn for Highway 997, to go back through Homestead and on up Highway 27. Neither of us noticed; we were just following the crowd. I knew something was wrong when I saw a road sign out of the corner of my eye that mentioned Miami, but I didn't notice the mileage. The next thing I saw was the Miami skyline. The traffic was picking up in volume and speed by the second. All of a sudden, the road had gone from two lanes to four. Now I'm on an eight-lane road, surrounded by cars and trucks running at seventy miles per hour. I had only experienced this type of traffic in a car a couple of times and found it scary. On the Goldwing, it was just plain terrifying. I had no idea what road this was, or where it was going. I just knew we had to get the hell off as soon as I could get the Wing safely in the far right-hand lane. This was not going to be quickly accomplished. The speed kept increasing, and cars were changing lanes with reckless abandon. 
I am not an overly religious person, but I promised God if he would just let us live through this I would never come back to this place again. I knew we had to get off and head due west. If we could do that, eventually we would run into Highway 27.
After twenty or thirty terrifying minutes, I see an exit for a county road that heads west. I don't care how far west it runs. At this point, I just know it will get me off suicide alley and get me heading west. I hit full throttle, make a couple of moves, and make it to the exit lane. At the bottom of the exit is a stop light. 
Stopping the bike for just a few seconds was a welcome relief. Marguerite and I had both worked up a sweat. The light changed and I made my left turn, heading west.
Winging It  Marguerite & William Spicer  p29

[Biggles]

I was hoping to get to Clewisfon and find a motel for the night. In the Corps, we used to joke about night flying. "Only fools and owls fly at night. Do your feet fit a limb?" or "Night operations are characterized by darkness and periods of reduced visibility". I was a little nervous about the whole thing. I didn't want to worry Marguerite, but this could turn in to a real bag of crap. We had a long way to go before we reached any level of civilization, there was very little traffic, and any mechanical failure or accident would be serious. I was getting tired, but had to reach civilization for any hope of a room.
I kept telling myself to just keep the scan going and stay alert. After a while, everything was okay. The air was cool. Marguerite and I were getting comfortable with sights and sounds of night riding on the Wing. We kept hearing these little popping sounds. There were things hitting our helmets and leather jackets. I could see swarms of bugs in the headlight, and watched them bounce off the windshield. They weren't soft and squishy. The bugs were hard. When they hit the back of my gloved hands, it hurt. The swarms would come and go. Eventually, Marguerite noticed the dead bugs accumulating on the seat in between us. The bugs were also piling up in between my legs. I was able to take my hand and sweep some of them away. We actually thought if things got any worse, we could just stop and use the Wing cover for shelter and spend the night on the road. When we considered how many mosquitoes would descend on us, we decided to let that idea go.
Winging It  Marguerite & William Spicer  p30