From Valentine, Nebraska. 1,061 miles from Lexington. I am hopeful that will be three riding days, but everything will depend on the weather.  And I sure wish that graphic had the tracks from Norfolk, Virginia, so that it would show coast to coast. I did not have my gps keeping the tracking points on that first section of my trip. When I get home, I will add some kind of lines to make the graphic complete, but I will have to have my home computer to do that.

This has been my longest ride at 475 miles.  I rode from 7 to 5:30 with a 20 minute break for lunch. But I didn't need the buttes to remind me of my butt this time. I just had to start that sentence with a "but." Snicker.

The wind was the story of the day. The forecast was for winds that were 15-25 mph with gusts of 33 mph. Wind is a problem for this little bike. Did I mention that it doesn't have much power? Going up a hill or going against the wind can really slow this bike down. The hill is obvious. But the wind is just as bad. Well, you can imagine it. If I am going 55 mph, then there is a 55 mph wind hitting me squarely in the chest since I don't have a windshield. But if you add a 25 mph wind to that, then there is an 80 mph wind hitting me square in the chest!

So I began the day thinking I may have to ride all day in fourth gear at 45 mph. I didn't think I would get very far. But after 30 minutes or so, I made a turn to the east, and the wind was coming from the southwest. That meant the wind was hitting me on the back corner of my shoulder, resulting in a nice push from behind. Suddenly I was cruising along at 58 mph and hardly using any gas! Nice!

It worked like that for most of the day, so I took advantage of it and stuck with the riding. Besides, it was a great day weather-wise, and I don't know how many of those I will get. It started out pretty cold at 41 degrees when I left Riverton, Wyoming, but warmed throughout the day, ending at 71 in Valentine. Gotta take advantage of that kind of weather too.

I could not help but think of my friend Terry from Pikeville. His favorite saying when working on a project with me was, "This is too easy!" He knew that problems were to be expected. Things usually do go wrong. And when nothing goes wrong, it is too easy! That's what I was saying all day. "This is too easy."

The bad news came when I got to my planned destination - Gordon, Nebraska. I had picked out a small motel in that small town because it got good reviews on Google. When I arrived, the place was out of business! That meant I had to ride an extra 90 miles to get to Valentine, Nebraska.

And that 90 miles was the worst of the day. Not, as you would think, because I was tired. I was actually feeling pretty good. But because the wind had shifted so that it came from the South instead of the Southwest. That meant the wind was either directly across my right shoulder or actually hitting my chest at an angle. And the wind had really started gusting - to 35 mph. That was enough to make the bike want to slide to the left on the road. When an 18 wheeler was coming, and I was slipping to the left, I really got nervous. I had to slow down to about 45 mph so that I had enough traction to keep from slipping so much. That was uncomfortable and made me nervous, but I still made pretty good time.

All in all it was a very good day. I'm glad I made so many miles when I could because there is some rain in the forecast for the next couple of days. I'll have to see if it is enough to stop me. Probably not, but we'll see.

But I did have bad news this evening when I got my camera out to download the pictures from it. I opened the back and discovered that there was no SD card! I had left the SD card in my laptop last night, so all the pictures I thought I took today I did not really take.  I didn't take very many anyway.

But I have a couple of interesting ones from left over from yesterday I'll share now.  I was cruising along when I saw this guy stopped on the side of the road going the other way, so I stopped to see if I could help.

I met Jacob riding a Suzuki Marauder. When I asked, he said he had a warning light come on regarding a sending unit. He said the bike was running fine, and he thought it was just a false signal or a wire loose on the warning light. He had decided to continue on his way to Oregon and then down the Baja California Penisula.

See? That's the deal with modern fancy motorcycles. You never know when a sending unit is going to go out or when you will get a false warning signal. I don't even know what a sending unit is or what it would send or where it would send it. I'm pretty sure my little simple bike doesn't send anything anywhere and certainly doesn't warn me about it. If it runs, it's good. If it doesn't run, something is broken. Pretty simple. I guess Jacob agreed. His bike was running so he was heading on down the road.

Then I stopped for gas and saw this guy pull up to the pump:

I don't know where I thought combines got their diesel, but I have never seen one at a gas station before. I talked to the owner standing there in the hat, and asked how much it would hold. He said about 50 gallons. I said my tank only held 1.8 gallons. He said, "I'll bet you get better mileage that I do though."

Well, it's been another good day on the road. Thanks for sharing it with me.

From Riverton, Wyoming. 1,513 miles from Lexington, about five days riding.

It's been a lovely day, though a cold one. The temperature started out at 37 degrees! I let it warm up to 40 before I left this morning. I think the high this afternoon was in the low 60s. My electric gear kept me toasty warm all day.

Today was all about the scenery. I drove through the Teton Pass, Jackson Hole, the Grand Tetons, through some snowy mountains, and back into the high desert. I think I have the main part of the Rockies behind me. Yea!

The bike ran great, and I felt good, so no big story there. In fact, I don't have a story other than the scenery, so I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. Thanks for following.

From Idaho Falls, Idaho. 1,760 miles from Lexington, probably six riding days. I usually ride about 300 miles per day.

This was a great day. You will be very surprised that I have nothing to complain about. That was all I did yesterday! Today was great. Cool but clear weather. Bike ran perfect. My butt got a little tired as always by the end of the day, but other than that I felt great. Nothing to complain about.

Of course, you know that days like this make for boring journals. It's the disaster and the crisis that make for an interesting story. But, like Kay said, I can make an adventure out of anything!

Early in the day, I had a little scare when an F-15 flew about 400 feet over my head! Then I noticed that he was coming in for a landing at Mountain Home Air Force Base.

Shortly after that I came across the M1A1 Abrams Battle Tank on display in the picture above. That sucker can almost go as fast as my little TW200. It's maximum speed is listed at 45 mph. That's my maximum speed going up a mountain.

Today's scenery was lots of this, lots and lots of scenes just like this:

The elevation was 5,000 to 6,000 feet all day with lots of farming under the shadow of nearby mountains.

I crossed Silver Creek several times, and one time spotted this guy fly fishing:

Riding through Carey, Idaho, I spotted antlers sticking out of the back of a pick-up truck. I stopped and met Bethany, who had killed this moose. She said you are only allowed one moose for a lifetime in the lower forty-eight states, so this was a once in a lifetime experience for her. But she had also traveled to Alaska and killed a moose there last year.

Just before Arco, I passed Craters of the Moon National Monument and Preserve. I thought Newberry was pretty cool, but Craters dwarfs Newberry. Here the lava field covers 618 square miles. It seems to go on forever!

I read an information plaque about the settlers who came through here on wagon trains. The lava rocks kept breaking their wagon wheels.

I was high enough to see the snow covered mountains nearby:

At Arco, I got gas, but passed on the opportunity get a hamburger at this place:

It seems to be a tradition for the football players to paint their number on the mountain nearby. What an eyesore!

The next area featured a large plain with two buttes sticking up, actually a third not in this photo. These volcanic mountains were formed between 600,000 and 300,000 years ago. Very odd looking to me the way they pop up out of a vast plain.

Passing those buttes near the end of the day reminded me how tired my butt was. (Snicker) I was glad to roll into Idaho Falls where I finally stopped to take a picture of a potato barn, though not the prettiest one I saw:

There were occasional potatoes in the streets that had fallen off produce trucks.

The only excitement for today was the whistle in my helmet. It's been going on the whole trip. There is a 1/8 inch gap between my face shield and the helmet on the right side. When the wind comes just right (at about 33 1/3 degrees) it causes that gap to whistle.... loudly. I usually try to keep my head turned to avoid it, but then the wind will change, and there it is again. At about 55 mph, I think it plays a A note. Slow to 40 and I get a lower C. If I could change my speed fast enough, I could play Beethoven's Fifth on my helmet!

But I finally tired of the whistling and put some tape over that part of the face shield to disrupt the air flow. Beethoven is better in a music hall.

And I thought about my granddaughter Lizzy today. Recently, she gave me the nicest compliment ever. She said, "Grandpa, I see that you are always going on adventures. You know, all my friends have grandparents, but none of them go on adventures like you do."  I'm glad she notices, and glad that I am able to do some of my crazy adventures. Maybe it will keep me young.

Thanks for following!

From Nampa, Idaho... again. 2,056 miles from Lexington or seven riding days. Today I have been behind schedule all day long!

My family knows that on vacations I always say, "We are behind schedule," whether we are or not. It's just one of the things I like to do to drive the rest of the family crazy. But I am a bit of a nut about the schedule. Like when I am traveling, or going on a vacation. The only way to begin a day of traveling is to begin at 6 a.m. if the sun is up by then. Otherwise, I have to start about the same time as the sun comes up. It's a law... in Oregon, I think. It's hard for me to believe, but I have discovered that not everybody works on that same time frame. When my boys start a trip, they like to sleep late. Hey! It's vacation. Why get up early? Then they don't mind driving late into the night, or even until the next morning. If there is not a law against that, there ought to be!

So this morning, I was awake at 6:15, busy with all my chores, and all packed and almost ready to go as the sun rose at 7:05. It was cool at 42 degrees, so I reached for my wonderful electric jacket liner that I have been bragging about, and it was nowhere to be found!

Then I realized that I had left it hanging on the back of my chair at the Hamburger and Ice Cream place last night. And yes, I had both.

I decided to go look on the door of the Hamburger and Ice Cream place and see what time they opened. I went out. Sat on the bike. Hit the start button. And nothing. My battery was dead! Man! When it rains!

So I walked to the Hamburger and Ice Cream place and saw that it doesn't open until 11 a.m.  You just don't know what a tragedy that was.  I was supposed to be 150 miles down the road by 11 a.m. That's the schedule! That's a law!

But I guessed that would give me time to figure out something to do about the battery. Back at the bike, I tried again, and realized that I had left the bike in gear whereas I usually leave it in neutral. When it is in gear and the kick stand is down, it won't start. So I put it in neutral and BAM! It started! What a relief!

But now there was still nothing to do but wait. Do you think I am the kind of person who is very good at waiting? Sometimes like waiting with a church member at the hospital, Okay. But when traveling? No way. But there was nothing to do but make the best of it.

So I did some work on the motorcycle. Remember that problem of the oil leak by the valve covers? That one. Virginia had made an admirable suggestion about calling ahead to some town I would be going through in a few days. Talk to a Yamaha dealer there. Have them order the part, and it would be there when I got there. I liked that idea.

But then I had another idea. Somehow I remembered when my dad worked on old cars. I remembered, how I don't know, that there was such a thing as "Form-A-Gasket" that came in a tube. You smear that rubbery stuff on the part, let it set up a while, clamp them together and Voila! You have a gasket. Not a very good gasket, but one that will get you home to Kentucky.

So I went to the Auto Parts store and bought some PermaGasket. I took the valve cover off. Took out the flattened rubber gasket. Put a nice ring of PermaGasket in the slot. Then put the rubber gasket back in place. Sure enough, I could tell that the rubber gasket now peeked over the edge of the slot. I waited an hour. Put it on the bike. And at the end of the day today - no oil leak!

But I still had time to kill. So I adjusted the chain tension. Cleaned all the old oil leak off the bike. Fiddled and stewed. And finally, 10:30 came. I went to the Hamburger and Ice Cream place and met Jake who worked there. Soon the owner showed up and said, "Sure, we have the jacket."

And by 10:45 I was on my way.

Well, there is a problem with that. This trip has been a lot about time zones. Oregon is in Pacific Time Zone and Idaho is in Mountain Time Zone. That meant that I was not leaving at 10:45 according to my destination. I was leaving at 11:45! What is the world coming to when Mickey Anders leaves on a trip at almost NOON???  That's just wrong.

But finally I was underway. I knew I had over seven hours of driving ahead of me, and I worried that it would be dark by the time I got to Nampa. That's not really a disaster, but well... You know me! Arrive after dark? No way! That's just wrong.

So I was pushing that TW200 for all it was worth. Trying my best to do 60. The speed limit was 65, which meant that EVERYBODY was passing me anyway. This little bike LIKES to do 50. 52 to 55 is Okay. But when I push it toward 60, the little one-cylinder is screaming in complaint. Plus I didn't have the carburetor set for the elevation so I hardly had any power. Also PLUS... the wind was blowing in my face so hard it was making the sign posts twitter back and forth. And there were mountains. The wind was enough to slow me. The mountains made it worse.

All of that meant I was using gas from my little 1.8 gallon tank at an alarming rate. So I stopped where I saw this sign:

Now, what would you think when you saw a sign like that? That they had gas pumps? Wrong. No gas pumps. So I asked a guy who was sweeping the sidewalk if they had gas. He said, "Sure. In cans." Well, I only needed a gallon, so I said, "Fine." Directly another young man went to fetch the gas in a can. He came back smoking a cigarette with one hand and holding an open gas can in the other. Fortunately, he handed it off to me without an explosion, but that's enough to make you nervous!

Before I put the gas in I cautiously asked, "How much am I going to pay for this gallon of gas?" I thought it was a prudent question. He replied, "Whatever you think it is worth?" Wow! So I gave him $5 which should be almost double the regular rate. And soon I was on my way again.

But fifty or so miles down the road, barreling along at 58 mph, the engine died suddenly. Oh My! I remembered the last time that happened to me near Fayetteville, Tennessee. That's when the bike ran low on oil, and I blew a piston. Before I ever came to a stop, I knew that the bike had been leaking oil. My first guess was that I had failed to tighten the oil drain plug, and all the oil had leaked out.

But there was the other possibility. The reserve tank of gas. See, bikes like these actually have only one tank - 1.8 gallons. But there are two tubes into the bottom of the tank, one higher than the other. And there is a switch above the carburetor to select which tube draws the gasoline. I use the higher tube until it sticks above the gas level, and I run "out of gas." But I still have the "reserve tank," which is not really a reserve tank, but the rest of the 1.8 gallon tank that I have. I just use the other tube which really is in the bottom of the tank.

So I switched from one tube to the other, popped the clutch, hoping beyond hope. But nothing.

So I stopped on the side of the road and began thinking how in the world I was going to get this bike to civilization to have the engine reworked. I was still in the middle of the high desert. But there was traffic. Someone came by every 15 minutes or so. And there were a lot of pick-up trucks in this area. I figured I could get someone with a pick-up truck to take me to Nampa to a motorcycle shop.

I looked at the sight glass to see the bad news about the oil. At first I thought there was nothing, but I leaned the bike, and discovered that it was full of oil. I hadn't lost any!

So I got on the bike, hit the starter, and BAM! It started right up again. It was the gas problem. So I knew I had about .4 of a gallon to make it to the next gas station. Fortunately, there was one within that range. And soon all was well again. Well, after I adjusted the carburetor for the elevation.

And I decided that I had had enough of pushing the bike so hard. I would listen to the bike. The bike likes 52-54, I would settle for 52-54. And that's what I did for the rest of the day, and the bike ran perfectly.

Finally, I got out of the high desert, and got into the high desert mountains, which has some really beautiful scenes. Here are a few:

Before you knew it, I was having a big time again, enjoying all the scenery. And then I got out of the high mountains into the farming area. I finally realized what crops they were growing when I saw this barn:

Sure enough, I saw trucks loaded with onions. When I drove by the fields, I could smell the onions. The fields of onion looked like nothing I had ever seen. Here is a picture of what I saw:

I thought it was incredible to see the rows plowed and all those onions laying right on top.

The temperature had been so pleasant all day. Since I got a late start, the temperature was already 65  when I started and got up to the low 70s. Very pleasant.

So I ended the day with a wonderful, wonderful and beautiful drive through eastern Oregon and western Idaho.

And best of all, I arrived not long before dark.

Sorry for the long narrative, but it was an exciting full day for me. But a very good one in the end.

Thanks for your interest.

From Bend, Oregon. Only 2,361 miles from home. I think that will take me eight more riding days.

You thought I was through posting this silliness, but no! I've still got to make it home. It's still an adventure. The adventure is NOT OVER YET. So keep following. We've all got to see if I make it home or not.

This was a very good day. 

I saw a sad thing leaving Port Orford at 7:15. Some guy had already hit a cow on the road. His truck was a mess with the whole front right fender bashed in. Then I saw the poor black cow on her knees on the side of the road with a policeman approaching. Imagine what that cow would have done to my little motorcycle! Yikes!

The weather was good - started at 55 and went up to 75. Now that's weather! I actually think I am through with the really cold stuff and the really hot stuff. Oh, and the really rainy stuff. The next 8 days look really good in the middle of the country.

The roads were good. I drove up through Coos Bay before turning across the middle of Oregon. (You can see that on the map if you go to: https://share.garmin.com/CHESTERANDERS ) These were pleasant curvy roads through the mountains - the kind that motorcyclists really like. The great thing about the roads was civilization! None of that 104 miles of desert without a gas station. I passed little towns every 30 miles or so, and most of them had gas stations. I was still so nervous after the 104 mile incident that I got gas at most of them - a half gallon at a time.

But there's an odd thing about gas in Oregon. It's against the law to pump it yourself. At every little station somebody comes out to help you with the gas, like you had never pumped it before in your life. Usually they come out and take the nozzle, talk to me a little bit about the bike, then hand the nozzle to me to fill the tank. Nobody in Oregon actually filled my tank - only me. But it's the law that every little gas station has to have somebody to come out and greet you and pretend to fill your tank. At one place, the owner told me it was a jobs thing, and he was glad for it. Glad to provide jobs to the eight people who work for him, and wishes he could hire 18. Nice guy.

At one remote station, nobody came out. So I took the nozzle, put in $2.02 worth and went inside to pay. The guy inside started out to pump my gas, and I explained that I had already put the gas in. He said, "In Oregon?"

The bike was good. It's still running like a sewing machine. It only has to do that for eight more days. But I did notice an oil leak. After I arrived, I figured out that it is a gasket leak from the valve covers. When I adjusted the valves and replaced that cover, I did not have the new rubber gasket, which is recommended. Now I know why. It leaks if you don't put on a new one. I don't think I will be able to get one until I get home and order it. But it doesn't leak much. Just a little messy. And I have learned to check the oil frequently anyway. So this is not the kind of problem that will stop me. So far so good.

The scenery was good. The Umpqua River Valley was spectacular. Unfortunately, I never could find a good place to pull off and take a picture of the pretty parts. Here's a good sample I borrowed from the Internet:

Then, almost to Bend, I stopped at the Newberry National Volcanic Monument, on the recommendation of Mary Ann McGlothlin. I've gotta admit it was pretty spectacular. That photo at the top is a "cinder cone," where hot gases spewed up from the volcano. Apparently there are many of those, but it is really odd looking. And for miles around you can see volcanic rock running right up to the trees. The odd thing is that this volcano was 7,000 years ago. It looks like it was ten years ago to me.

Here are a few pictures I took:

And this little fellow was playing around right at my feet:

Anyway, it was pretty incredible.

I arrived close to four and had chores to do. I stopped by Wal-Mart on the way into town and bought a couple of quarts of motorcycle oil and an aluminum foil pan. When I got the motel, I took the bike around back and changed the oil. This Wal-Mart didn't have an automobile repair section, which disappointed me. I usually recycle the old oil there. I'll have to look for a place down the road.

But all in all, it's been a good day - my first day on my journey back home. Thanks for going along with me.

From Port Orford,Oregon. I did it! Coast to Coast on a TW200! Check! Been there. Done that!

It's been an exciting couple of days. Sorry about the lack of Internet last night. I was in Silver Lake, Orgeon, and there is no lake there. In fact, there are only about 10 buildings. And it is in the high desert, so there is nothing to see either. But this morning when I left, about ten miles down the road, I came to the Oregon forest, the end of the high desert.

Yesterday was the ride from Nampa, Idaho to Silver Lake, Oregon. I was duly welcomed to Oregon:

As you can see it was a clear blue sky; a good day for riding. It was a beautiful agricultural area with lots of green fields:

They ship their farm crops in these produce crates, lots of them everywhere:

And they are proud of their agricultural heritage:

But soon I came to the high desert:

Beautiful area, but deserted desert. There was nobody there. And no gas stations. I was worried the first time when I went 68 miles between stations. Then learned that it was 104 miles to the next station. I never got the bike over 50 mph so that I could conserve as much fuel as possible, because I didn't know at the time how many miles to the next gas. But I made it with gas to spare. I averaged 80 miles per gallon by going very easy on the throttle. I didn't think about much else beside gas, and it was hard to enjoy the scenery for worrying about gas. But that's just the way I am.

So I had a pleasant enough night in the Silver Lake Motel, one of their six rooms. Very basic. Very. I've stayed in several of those kinds of places. But hey! This was the only motel in 150 miles either way. You take what you get and be happy for it.

This morning I left at 7:15 shortly after sun up as usual for me. My phone said the temperature was 40 degrees, which was not too bad. I was questioning that temperature when I saw the frost on my motorcycle seat:

But not long after I started, I began to really feel cold. First, I noticed that I had left my outer jacket unzipped. With the helmet closed, I couldn't see my belly! When I stopped to check, my jacket had been flying to the wind! I thought zipping that would solve my problem, but no, it kept getting colder. It was so cold, I was worried about my fingers getting frost bite. They were hurting. The rest of me was warmer than that, but not very.

I worried some more when I got this message on my cell phone:

In case you can't read the small print, it says, "Unable to Charge. Charging paused. Battery temperature too low."

How low does it have to get to say that? I think the answer is FREEZING.

I stopped to get gas after 60 miles, and the lady at the gas station said there was a thermometer on the door post outside. I checked and it was 34 degrees there. Do you know what the wind chill factor is for a person in 34 degrees riding at 50 mph on a bike without a windscreen? Me neither, but let me tell you - it's cold!

Finally, I found a cafe that was open and stopped there for a hour and had breakfast. It was even cold in the cafe. But when I left, it seemed the temperature had risen to about 40, and the ride got warmer and warmer throughout the day.

But I did see these mountains all around me:

See that? Snow! And not far away.

I passed through several areas where it was obvious there had been forest fires. Many of the little stores had signs out that said, "Thank you firefighters!"

Then I started descending from 5,000 feet all the way down to the ocean. That was nice. Warmer and warmer as I went down.

When I was almost to Port Orford, I passed through a little town named Langlois, which is the same name as Sarah's work friend. So I stopped and took a couple of pictures for Sue and Pete because they have been so kind about following all my adventures:

I was so excited coming into Port Orford, as you can imagine. I had ridden that little bike all the way across the country to be there - from coast to coast! How exciting! And I really wanted to take my picture at the same place where all the riders of the Trans America Trail do. So I was following my gps very closely through town and was almost there.

I was literally one block from the end when I saw this behind me:

That's right. A cop. He stopped me for doing 40 mph in a 20 zone near a school. I did not notice the school zone or the cop because I was so excited and looking at my gps. Can you believe that? A speeding ticket in the last block of a Trans America Ride?

The cop named Mike was so nice. And I was still excited and told him how I had come all the way from Norfolk, Virginia to be in this town. And told him all about the Trans America Trail, and how great it was that I was finally here, in Port Orford.  He was so nice and enjoyed hearing my story, but gave me the ticket anyway.

He kindly explained that I could do traffic school online from home and it wouldn't cost me anything, which, of course, I intend to do! But what a way to end my journey!

Here's another photo at journey's end:

So that's it! I did it.

Why? That's a good question. Why did I decide I HAD to ride a 200 cc bike from coast to coast? I have no idea. I get these wild hairs and just have to do a new adventure. I do it because it is there.

I am spending the night at a lovely hotel right on the beach overlooking that view in the picture above. But it's kind of like seeing the Grand Canyon. You finally arrive. You look. You ohh. You ahh. And ten minutes later you say, "Okay. We did that. Let's go." Or that's what I do.

Now the only thing left is to commute back home - 2,600 miles.