From the Library

[Biggles]

At around Mile 200 I was surprised to see headlights in my rear view mirror through the snow and dense fog.  I was struggling with both feet down at the time and travelling less than 10 MPH.  He didn't close the gap very fast but eventually he came up alongside and we both stopped.  It was the maintenance superintendent from Eagle Plains in a VW bug.  He said he had been trying to figure out what was making those strange tracks.  He said he would see three tracks, then sometimes two, occasionally only one.  He laughed and said, "Mostly three."  He asked if I was OK.  I responded by asking how far it was to Eagle Plains.  He said, "Maybe another 30 miles."  I answered, "Oh hell.  I guess if I've come this far, I can make another 30 miles, as long as it doesn't get much worse."  He said if I were not in within an hour or so from the time he gets in, he'd send help.  He wished me good luck and slowly moved away with his wheels churning in the mud.
Motorcycling Stories  Piet Boonstra p65

[Biggles]

I was totally dispirited and somewhat depressed that morning as I climbed into the Canadian Rockies in heavy rain and very dark overcast.  I was actually wondering if God was still with me.  It seemed as though I was having such a terrible time of it with the foul weather and horrible road conditions on this trip.  Suddenly a perfectly round opening appeared directly overhead in the otherwise dark overcast and rain.  The opening was the size of a football field, exposing a bright blue sky.  It was still raining and dark everywhere else, except directly over my head.  The hole seemed to get larger as it followed me for almost a mile up the road, drenching me with warm sunshine I was awestruck, as I took it as a reply from God.  Then just as suddenly the huge gap closed, it got dark again, and the rain and darkness returned.  I was alone on the road at the time and no one saw it but me.  I was really shaken and I broke down and cried.
Motorcycling Stories  Piet Boonstra p80

[Biggles]

I also learned early on the trip when not to use my cruise control, which I had been experimenting with on my new machine.  Sometimes while travelling on straight roads I would set the cruise control at a comfortable speed; and later after having ridden several miles with it on, I would forget about it.  Once in West Virginia as I approached a fairly tight turn I got well into the turn to the crucial point where the side almost touches the road and suddenly the cruise control decided that I needed a healthy application of throttle.  It was pretty scary.  That's when I stopped messing with it.
Motorcycling Stories  Piet Boonstra p104

[Biggles]

Just before pulling up to a traffic light near Carrnel our four-lane detour, I noticed a young guy in a car behind us hanging out of the driver's window screaming obscenities. He jumped out at the light and ran toward me, yelling and using the foulest language imaginable at the top of his lungs.  He kept getting angrier and louder as he screamed something about my cutting him off.  It was a real bad scene at the crowded intersection.  I couldn't remember what I had done to bring on his tirade.  I figured the best thing to do was to calmly say I was sorry; but that only seemed to enrage him even more, and I thought at any moment he was going to take a swing.  I was wearing an open-face helmet with both hands on the controls and Lilli was on the back.  I felt if I were alone at the time and 40 or even 20 years younger, to quote the famous mayor of Carmel, he would have "made my day".
After we got out of there, I asked Bud what I had done.  He said, "Nothing.  Didn't you see his eyes? He was strung out on something."  I was watching his hands more than his eyes.  I recalled reading about California motorists who had been shot in similar confrontations.
Motorcycling Stories  Piet Boonstra p116

[Biggles]

From Atascadero we headed east on a road that I thought was our route; but about a mile out of town the road I took a sudden left turn without warning, and we charged straight ahead onto some soft dirt.  It took almost two hundred feet to stop.  Realizing that a road without signs couldn't possibly be the state highway, we went back into town to find the right road.
It led us through several miles of tight curves and some of the strangest terrain I had ever seen.  It twisted and turned through miles of high grassy mounds and ridges.  There was a sign at the end saying that late movie idol James Dean, who loved to manoeuvre his Porche along that road, was killed in a high-speed car crash near there.  Later we saw another mile-wide strip of the same odd terrain extending north and south for many miles, and we learned that it was the San Andreas Fault line.
Motorcycling Stories  Piet Boonstra p117

[Biggles]

I think the "turnout law" in California is a great idea, but all drivers don't observe it.  The law apparently says it's unlawful to delay five or more vehicles on two-lane roads.  Several times we were crawling along in a string of more than a dozen cars, campers and trailers for miles, led by someone moving at a snail's pace. 
 Turnout areas are provided for slow vehicles to pull over so others can pass, but it doesn't always happen.
Motorcycling Stories  Piet Boonstra p118

[Biggles]

The Morenci mine near Clifton is one of the largest open-pit copper mines in the world.  Billions of tons of ore have been extracted from Morenci, which is still an active mine.  Trains that haul copper ore from the mine look so small you have to look carefully to spot them, even through binoculars, as they move around in the tremendous pit.  US Route 666 from Morenci to Alpine has more turns and tight switchback curves than any road I have ever travelled.  We noticed one S-curve sign in the mountains that said "10 MPH - Next 6 Miles."
Motorcycling Stories  Piet Boonstra p123

[Biggles]

Near the top I met a four-wheel-drive pickup coming toward me on a very narrow section of the road.  It was the only vehicle I met going in either direction.   I figured I could probably back down a little easier than he could back up the hill, due to poor traction on the loose stones.  Holding my front brake as it occasionally skidded, I backed down very slowly for about 50 feet to a shoulder on the cliff-side of the road.  I had to lean the bike toward the edge so his side mirror wouldn't hit my arm on the way by.  I could see down the scary edge of the cliff again between my forearm and my leg.
Motorcycling Stories  Piet Boonstra p138

[Biggles]

I almost lost the bike [a GL1200 Goldwing] when I stopped on a steep incline at the cemetery gate and the front brake wouldn't hold on the loose gravel.  We were on the bike together as it slid backwards down the hill faster and faster with the front wheel locked and dragging all the way.  I managed to hold it upright with both feet also skidding backwards.  The bike finally stopped without falling over, which seemed like a small miracle on the rutted, washed out terrain.
Motorcycling Stories  Piet Boonstra p155

[Biggles]

The sun came out after lunchtime and it was nice enough except for a strong head wind that cut my gas mileage considerably.  I came up behind an older 1100cc Gold Wing travelling in the same direction.  I was doing about 10 miles over the speed limit and was about to pass him when I noticed it was a cop on a motorcycle.  I followed him for several miles until he turned off.
Motorcycling Stories  Piet Boonstra p204

[Biggles]

That afternoon I came upon the largest Tramo Peligroso sign of my trip.  It was before the first of three ominous-looking temporary pipe bridges I had to cross. The bridge was made up of several long, eight-inch-diameter steel pipes, laid across the span.  Several pipes were used for each wheel track.  When heavy trucks or buses crossed very slowly, the pipes would bend under their weight.  I chose two pipes that were butted fairly close together to ride between and I kept both feet down for security.  It was tricky and I wondered what it would be like in the rain when the pipes are covered with slick mud.  I looked down between the pipes and saw water running several feet below the bridge.
Motorcycling Stories  Piet Boonstra p210

[Biggles]

Sometimes I could see for only about 200 feet.  Another accident held up traffic for about 15 minutes on the Houston beltway.  Later a guy in a pickup truck spun out  directly in front of me.  First I was following his taillights and a moment later I was looking at his headlights.
Besides the pouring rain, there was a fierce crosswind.  I got into some heavy truck traffic and got thrown around quite a bit.  The random wind currents around the trucks were so strong that my tires kept breaking loose sideways and the bike was doing a ballet as the tires would break traction one way and then the other. The deep furrows in the road and the rumble knobs between the lanes didn't help.
After I got out on I-10 I tried three times to pass a truck, but every time I got even with his front bumper, I was struck by a heavy blast of wind from his front end that would hit the bike so hard the front wheel would break traction.  I was finally able to get by when we went behind some trees, which  temporarily blocked the strong crosswind.
Motorcycling Stories  Piet Boonstra p225

[Biggles]

We learned at dinner that his name was Mario Francisco del Castro Filho.  He was an entrepreneur in his home country, a dealer in boats.  He was a very interesting guy.  He told us about a motorcycle accident he had a few years earlier, after which he was in a coma for three days.  Before the accident he was able to speak fluent French and English; but as a result of the accident he got total amnesia and completely forgot both languages.  Although he was relearning English on this trip, he struggled with it.  He was headed for the Summer Olympic Games in Atlanta where he was entered in the competition with the Brazilian rowing team.  He said 
he had been sleeping on the ground in his bag, and he was travelling a lot at night because of the heavy RV traffic and road construction during the day.
Motorcycling Stories  Piet Boonstra p233

[Biggles]

It was raining and 48 degrees when we rode into Jasper for breakfast at a fancy restaurant there.  A group of Swiss people from a tour bus came out of the restaurant about the same time we did.  We talked with a few of them as we prepared to leave.  One guy kept smiling and saying to me in poor English, "You're goving?" I answered twice, "Yes, we're going." He kept saying it like I didn't hear him the first time and each time I answered the same way.  I thought he might be a little simple, or maybe hard of hearing, but finally his wife, who spoke English clearly, enunciated, "He asked if this is your Gold Wing."  Meanwhile he was smiling and nodding.  As we were pulling out he said "Goot fahrt!" which Jake told me later was German for "Have a good trip."
Motorcycling Stories  Piet Boonstra p236-7

[Biggles]

The thought processes involved in deciding to take a 3300 mile trip on a 225cc dirt bike get a bit complicated.  It involves a lot of "been there, done that", and wanting to do something different while staying within the general definition of adventure touring.  Having been to Alaska six times on big bikes I once said that if I ever go again it would probably be on a 200cc motorcycle just to be different.  But then I may never get the desire to go to Alaska again and I may never own a 200cc motorcycle.  Besides, it would probably take me at least two weeks just to get there on that size bike.
Motorcycling Stories  Piet Boonstra p239