My nice day sightseeing with Trudy turned out to be the last rain free day of my trip. I got up in the morning and Trudy had left already. It was raining, yuk…..
It is a bit over 800 miles from Chicago to Long Island, and I wanted to cover at least half of it before sundown, if I could get to Youngstown, 400 miles away, I’d feel alight. I moved slowly, hoping the rain would diminish, and when it lightened up considerably, I started to pack up my gear, and put on my leather. The bike started up nicely, but when I went to shift gears, I got no resistance from the shifter, and the gears didn’t change. SHIT. It’s wet, it’s around 8:00 in the morning, I’ve got 400 miles to cover, and I can’t get out of 1st gear. There’s only one thing to do. Eat breakfast.
One of the restaurant that I miss, from living in Chicago is Ann Sather, I knew that I could make it there in first gear, and this would all be easier to think through with some coffee and Swedish Pancakes in my belly. I was irritated because the streets in Chicago, actually the highways too, all the way from Madison had been crappy, bumpy and full of hard-to-miss potholes. Obviously, something had shaken loose or broken, and while I had a bag-full of tools, I had no replacement parts, and not much knowledge of what to do. Breakfast was going to help. I found a spot on Belmont, with a meter, and I could see the bike from my seat inside, this was good. The waitress tried to convince me to use their free lot in the back, to save the parking fee, but in the city, with my bags etc… packed on the bike, I’d rather pay for a little bit of comfort. During breakfast I used Google Maps and a variety of other tools to locate a bike shop. The one I found that opened at 9:00 was very kind, and helpful, and not too far away. The guy I spoke with had spent some time working in a Harley shop, so he was willing to talk me through the problems. Unfortunately, he understood exactly what had happened, and did not have a part to fix it. He suggested Throttle Masters Motorcycle Shop, on Archer. It was a little out of my way, and they didn’t open for another hour, but it was a plan, and I needed a plan.
After breakfast, I went out onto Belmont and looked over the problem. My shifter linkage had broken at the point where it connects to the pedal shifter. For the short term, I was able to repair it with the universal repair tool, I wasn’t going to plan to ride far, but Duct-Tape to the rescue.
I didn’t really know the area of Chicago where the Bike shop was, but I knew that the GPS would get me there. It was on the near south-west side, a neighborhood called Brighton Park, not the worst neighborhood in the city, but it looked like a sketchy place to hang out for a half hour on the street, waiting for a motorcycle shop to open. Plus, the place looked dirty and unkempt, maybe these guys were brilliant mechanics and had exactly what I needed in stock, but I didn’t have a lot of confidence that they’d be the type of people to be ready to go, at the start of the work day. Well, according to stats I looked up later, the Tribune says “Brighton Park ranks 36th (tied) among Chicago’s 77 community areas for violent crime reports” with 80 reported property crimes in the last 30 days, including theft, burglary and motor vehicle theft.
Hmmmnn… How far could I get on duct-tape? How far did I need to get?
Google Maps says that in Michigan City Indiana, there is a Harley Dealer, it is closer to I94 than I90 (which is the toll-road, that I wanted to ride on), but it is between the 2, and instead of sitting on a dirty street in a sketchy neighborhood waiting for a shop that might not open on time, I could ride about an hour, starting on I90, and then switch to 94 past Gary, IN, and get to a full-service Harley shop that will have been open at least 30 minutes before I arrive. Well it wasn’t an unpleasant ride, and the weather was cooperative, and the folks at the shop were cheery and helpful. Turns out it is not quite a “full service” shop, it had been started as a satellite store and expanded. Despite not being “full service” they had all that I needed and were able to point out a bit of extra service that I’d need down the line (small crack in my exhaust pipe, ugh… will be expensive one day), and I was back on the road in under an hour, for less than $50.00. Yes, that’s right, parts and service in a Harley Shop, for under $100.00. Doesn’t happen often, so need to celebrate when it does!
By this time, a good portion of the day has been blown to side-trips and vehicle service, if I’m going to make Youngstown I’m gonna need to focus on riding. The sideroads of Indiana are about what you’d expect from rural mid-America, 
and soon I was on I90, headed east. It wasn’t very exciting from here, in fact there are only 9 charges to my ATM card between Michigan City and New Jersey most are gas, one is a parking meter. It was getting late/dark as I got toward Ohio, went past Cleveland and really considered stopping before I got to Youngstown. About the time I was feeling I’d had enough, signs for Youngstown started appearing. I pulled off the road, popped into the Starbucks for a few minutes to use the wi-fi and find a cheap room in Austintown, at the Econolodge, on 76 drive, signed in, unloaded my gear and started to settle in for the night. Youngstown, and clearly Austintown have been hard hit by the economy, there is a HUGE truck-stop/liquor store/spa massage/topless club right down the street from the Econolodge, it looked pretty shady from the outside, and the online reviews confirmed that it was not going to be a safe place for the evening’s entertainment.
This photo was in Brookville, PA, about 150 miles past Austinville. Of course BEER (in the background) is wholesome for America, but pornography pollutes.
I figured a quick run out to the mini-mart was in order, for some drinks and snacks, I unburdened myself, put on a t-shirt and light shoes, and off I went. I had ridden all day in dry weather, but it turned into a immense storm when I was almost at the market. By the time I returned, I was drenched through to my socks and underwear. At least I had a warm room for the night.
Of course, it rained all night, and was pretty wet in the morning.
Only 400 miles to go, I’m on schedule, I can do this! Despite the threatening weather, I’m pretty giddy with excitement and feeling very brave and successful at having gotten this far. Unfortunately, most of the day’s ride would be in vary degrees of rain, when I found some sunshine in Pennsylvania, I pulled off the road and found a spot, about a mile from the highway, where I actually laid down, face down, to exposed the back/bottom of my jeans to the sun, in hopes of drying off. Riding was just so uncomfortable. My boots were wet, my gloves were soaked through, and my butt was itchy and gross from being cold and wet. After about 40 minutes of sunning my butt, I was starting to get up, when one of PA’s finest pulled over to ask what was going on, if I was OK. One of his compatriots had driven past, seen a motorcycle on the side of the rode, and a guy lying face down next to it and wanted to check if everything was OK. Seems like my explanation, of sunning my buns, to dry them off, was good enough, and he let me go. The sunbreak was a rare, rare opportunity for the day, it was mostly wet.
I rode for a while, and stopped every now and then, to re-charge my phone, get fuel, escape the rain, or fill my belly. It rained most of the day, sometimes it was so heavy that I just had to pull off the road for a while to let it die down. It was an awful, awful terrifying feeling, but the landscape was lush and full 
Eventually, somehow, I reached New Jersey. WOW, I was really doing it. My phone battery (and GPS) were almost dead, so I pulled off the road to find a place to rest, and a bite to eat. I knew I didn’t have far to go, but I really needed to be sure I had power, to navigate to the end. Soprano’s Italian Restaurant (how many of those do you suppose there are in New Jersey?). I found a seat, near an electrical outlet and ordered. Just a small family place, mostly teenagers working there, lots of food going out for delivery. Everything I needed, except, there was no power to the outlet, I couldn’t find an outlet within in reach that was “on”, OH, and this was going to ruin me. I had already committed to the time here, and ordered food, so I sat and ate… I’d ride as far as I could get, and hope for a coffee shop, Starbucks, or something.
Finally, I cross the George Washington Bridge, I’m in Manhattan, I couldn’t be any happier (unless I had charge in my phone battery). Crossing the bridge is scary, there is lots of traffic, it is very high up over the water, and people don’t have a lot of patience for an out of town-er, meekly figuring out which lane he wants, and where he wants to go. YIKES. So, I knew from checking my directions, that I needed the Major Deegan Expressway to get to Carle Place, Long Island, where I was headed, but wasn’t sure if I needed North or South. Sure, I could’ve stayed on 95/295 to Bayside, there are lots of options once you are in New York, but I couldn’t SEE a map, I just had the headphones on, and they stopped talking to me.
So, it is now dark out, maybe 8:00 on a Wednesday evening, and I’ve got about 25 miles to go, and don’t know how to get there. All I need is to charge my damn phone! I ride around the neighborhood, this is The Bronx now, I’m near Bronx Community College, and unlike most colleges, this one is NOT surrounded by coffee shops where students sit around and consume wi-fi with their lattes. What I did find a LOT of was beauty salons and barber shops, open at 8:00 on a Wednesday night. OOOh, I hadn’t had a shave since I left Seattle, 8 days before, and hadn’t had a proper straight razor shave since the last time I was in New York, in June. I could make this work.
I pulled the bike up on the sidewalk in front of a barber shop. The place was an Hispanic hangout, jamming really loud Latin electronic dance music out onto the street, and lots of folks hanging around, talking, smiling, having a good time. Not much happening inside the shop, it was a warm, August night. EVERYONE looked at me, as I pulled up, and it quickly became clear that few of them were going to be comfortable communicating in English. They ooh’ed and aah’ed over the bike, and seemed happy to help. I found a guy that I could talk to, and he directed me to a young man, maybe late 20’s who sat me in a chair. Wait, one minute I requested, and I plugged in my phone, to charge while they worked on me.
Full shave, my face and my head, it took maybe1/2 hour, possibly more, it was glorious. Hot towels, neck and shoulder massage, various potions and ointments for my skin, and when we were done, it was just $20.00, so I tipped them $5, and bundled myself back up, with enough charge in my phone to cover that last 25 miles.
I don’t know what time I actually arrived at Mookie’s house, but he has been the greatest host and kindest friend, along with his FSG Jill, who has introduced me to people and helped out in every aspect of my search for an apartment, and getting settled in New York.
I’m glad that this phase of the journey is complete, and that I’ve been able to document it. Tomorrow I get a key for my new place in Brooklyn. The search was not as difficult as I had expected, and I’m feeling great about having a place of my own. But that will be the next chapter.