Wild Wonderful West moto-journalists in W.V.

Hey guys...I promised you I'd come back and give you the story that the state of West Virgina don't want to pay for...weeeellll OK what can I tell you? Bikers will be bikers...even us well trained and educated moto-photo-journalists!





Let's start when I went to pick up the bike I was going to be given by Triple S Harley Davidson in Morgantown. I walked in, introduced myself, then asked if it would be possible to trade motorcycles. I was being given a Road King. Much too tall for my petite stature.





The guy who I refer to as our bike wrangler...walks about the back shop area...searching for the bike he has in mind for me. Ahhh there she is...a Fat Boy. Oh is that a "HE'? Lordy, it's been a long time since any of the bikes I've ridden lately was a HE....I wonder, will I be able to relate to HIS troubles? I mean, I know what it's like to suddenly suffer from PMS or other female related disorders...what if HE decides to act like a MAN and screw with me? Ah well, use my feminine wiles...I can manage any big dog, man or beast...I can handle anything. I just need to be able to touch the ground with my feet....ahhh I straddle the Fat Man...yes...after the week of riding, I have come to the conclusion, that anyone who calls this machine a BOY...ain't never rode it.





Yes, I think to myself as I pick HIM up in between my knees...he's a wide one all right, but I do have the balls of my feet on the ground....better than my toes with the Road King. I can do this...no problem. He was a burgundy kind of red...although not quite as "brown" or "woody" in color as a burgundy...He had leather styled hard bags, no windshield, and floor boards. Yeah...he feels real good here between my legs...I no doubt would like him to stay awhile.






I had to give him back to the bike wrangler. He needed to be serviced and checked over before being handed over to me. Cool-ness....

I'm hanging around the place for a little over three hours, when I see car drive up with New York plates...I'm waiting for a couple other journalists, and I figure this car belongs to Sam, from Iron Works...I knew him to be from New York, though I didn't know what he looked like. He steps from his car and walks into the store...I'm sitting on a bench, listening in on the conversation between three guys.




You should hear the macho crap spewing from this three-some...I'm giggling here gals...they actually believe they have the upper hand on their ladies...even the one who isn't married but playing the field had it all wrong! How funny to listen to their spiel...I swear!






About 30 mins later the roll up door to the service department at the other end of the building flies up. Out rolls a Road King with this guy on it...the New York guy...that's it...I know this guy is "ONE OF US!" I walk back to him, introduce myself, and the bike wrangler sees me. He rolls out my Fat Boy and tells me to have fun...mmmm ok Have fun. I jump on his back, pull in the clutch, kick down the gear to 1st and let the clutch out. It's set up much different than mine. Mine in fact has over 100K on it...and is gasping for new life...there is no more adjustment left on my old girl. The clutch grabs early and jerks me awake...no graceful slick...nope not graceful at all. I pull the Fat Boy over to my little girl. As I transferred her gear over to the Fat Boy's...I think to myself...huh the gear looks better on her than it does on him! I wonder why that is? I really do wonder...






I ride the Fat Boy back over to where Snakebit Sam and the roll up door are. Park him there, and walk back to my diminutive little girl...easy I mentally tell her...don't worry sweetie...you're not being traded...not forever...your still my "ONE AND ONLY"...your just going to take a break here with others, you will be the oldest, therefore mostly the grandmother of them here...you'll be the wisest bike around...and revered by all the others...at least by the ones who have any sense...

She's pulled into the service area, walked back to her week long resting place...and left to her own devices...I'm too excited to think about her anymore. The bike wrangler asks me if I will buy the bike when I come back. I told "No, I'll be too busy changing my wet undies to think about trading my girl in for this 'boy'".




Hee hee...well Sam and I talk a bit, and find out one of the guys we are waiting on already has his bike. He's down at the Fairgrounds where MountainFest will be happening...seems the guy is a minor celeb...You know who he is if you watch TV. He's the Geico biker. Remember the biker's arm they show that has the gecko tattooed on the bicep? Well that's the man...only...LOL actually Big Rick builds their special bikes, and does appearances with the bikes at bike rallies, he don't have the gecko tattooed to his bicep, but he is the Geico Biker...and the Geico builder, and his work....IT DON'T SUCK!

From west va FAM tour

We stand around, me, Sam and Big Rick, waiting...waiting for a couple of other bikers who were to be here. We waited. We made a phone call looking for those supposed bikers...and found out Rick and Sam and me...we were waiting on ourselves...shit...let's pack up and get the heck outta here. Just as we are getting ready to punch out bikes alive...we get a news flash...there are two guys up at the big covered building waiting for us...seems there actually were two more bikers we were waiting on...well...come on mount up gentlemen, we have a 130 miles or more to go yet...and I'm hungry nuff to eat your boots.

We get ourselves loaded up, moving south for Charleston...the state capital, and the Marriot Hotel, where the state will be putting us up for the night. At a gas stop we all decide we need lunch...Mikey D's would be the place to grab some vittles. It wasn't where we thought we were going, but we ended up getting off the Interstate an exit early...so we fore-go the little eatery Big Rick had in mind, marching into the Micky D's so we didn't have to keep fooling round. I really hate waiting on others to get ready to move...so Let's just do Micky D's.

Leaving Micky D's, back on the interstate once more...we run into rain. Rick and I both have the same philosophy. Ride hard, ride fast, get out of the rain quickly but safely. We left the others behind...they slowed way down...it took them so long to catch up with us after we got out of the rain and slowed down...that both Rick and I believed they had pulled over to put on rain suits or something...they hadn't...they just felt safer slowing down...and staying with traffic. To each their own.

From west va FAM tour

Arriving at the Marriot, the bell boy who had bee assigned to take care of our group came running out the door, telling us to take the bikes over to the covered garage. A special spot right in front of the door has been reserved for us...we get over there to find five other Road Kings parked there...yes, the others had arrived...we were happily backing our bikes into the reserved area...unpacking our gear...and our bell boy was snapping stuff up off the ground to haul inside faster than I could keep up with. I wanted to beat him senseless...leave my stuff alone! But I had a lot of stuff...so I didn't.





Got inside, registered at the desk, went to my room, set up my laptop...and went off in search of my buddy Rogue. I found him four doors down...he was resting on one of the two queen sized beds...man those beds looked good to me. Rogue and I talked for about 15 mins, then I left to take a shower before dinner.





Meeting down in the bar with the other moto-journalists, the liquor was flowing, the tales were flying...all of us knew at least one or two of the others, so the introductions went quickly...and the libations flowed fast! After about an hour in the bar...we headed to the star studded dining room for our banquet...It was to be the first of many five star meals served to us during the course of the next four days. Yummy!