Day 12 - Atlanta, ID. [under construction]

All night long, I envisioned awaking to the repeated thump of our host dragging a lawnmower blade up the unfinished steps to our loft. And then cleaving us in two with it. I know that's a piss-poor way to embrace good will - but I *never* got any feeling of good will. None. My bad, I 'spose. Nevertheless, I awoke with my noggin still attached to my neck, and called that a success. BigDog's head wasn't rolling around on the floor, either - so let's call it a double success. We saddled up quick, thanked our host profusely, and quietly motored out of town, taking the first left to head over to Rocky Bar. We were advised not to go that way, since there was nothing in Featherville....nothing.... We passed through 8,500 feet here, and quite frankly, I was surprised it wasn't snowed in. It was beautiful. This is Rocky Bar. On sale for $250,000. Hard times up here. We rode into Featherville, there was a motel, grocery, cafe.....all for sale We got a wonderful breakfast - and great service there - in the place where there was nothing. This is just odd. We rode into Pine, and got fuel, and were told another bizarro tale - this one of car wrecks and injury. Now it's beyond weird. We were headed to MotoSport for rear tires, but had all day to get there. I highlighted the waypoint and asked the devilbox to navigate me there. No highways, please. In an instant, a route came up. A few miles out of Pine, we started down a set of switchbacks. The dust was horrible, and the air still. I could see the road crossing the valley in front of us, so I stopped for a few minutes to remove my jacket. When I could see BigDog's dust plume crossing the valley, I saddled back up, and started behind him - it was 0930. This was the last place I'd see him for quite a while.

After I'd ridden 20 or 30 miles, I was at the edge of the canyon carved by the South Boise River. Utterly breathtaking. A few minor intersections came and went, but BigDog has moved on already. I could see his tracks rather clearly - especially in the most picturesque places. I could see where he'd stopped for a pic or to just stare at the beauty. Hey Mr. Ed, seen a dude on a big orange horse? "Nay...." Wiseguys. Everyone's a comedian..... At the next intersection, it was paved. I lost BigDog's trail here. The devilbox showed about 10 miles to the Interstate, but a track went off to the east almost into town, and it was most likely dirt. The GPS was routing me down that track. I stopped at that turnoff, and saw knobby tracks. Little did I know, they weren't BigDog's.......The next thing I knew, I was riding down the old two track of the Oregon Trail.....following a set of knobby tracks.... ...and it was FUN! I ended up, eventually, on pavement behind a plastics manufacturing plant, just a few miles from Motosport. And there was no BigDog. It'd been over 60 miles and probably 3 hours since I last saw him outside Pine. Crap. I parked the bike by a pedestrian underpass in the shade. It was gettin' hot. A call on the cell phone was picked up ASAP by the voice mail. He's off or out of range. I decided to cool my heals for a bit and wait. After a 1/2 hour, I pushed the bike into the parking lot, and sat down. Ten minutes later, a black 990 pulls up.... "Gaspipe...?" Uhoh..... "Bigdog is waiting out on the interstate for ya..." WTF? Mike offered to run back and find him, so I left BigDog a detailed message on his cellular and called his house too. I'd been here for over 40 minutes by now. But by the time Mike got back out there, the BigDog was gone. When Mike got back to the shop, we went looking for him in the splendor of the air conditioning of his truck. The hospitality was greatly appreciated, as was the moto chat. We got to the same place and rode around a bit, but it was obvious BigDog was long, long gone. I decided to stay exactly put, just like the message I left on on his cellular voice mail indicated.... The next thing I knew, I had a new Michelin installed... ...my bike washed, chain lubed, the oil & filter changed and a zillion stories shared with IdahoJoe and Bob. And then I worked out a sweet deal on a 950 Super Enduro with IdahoJoe I got a return message from BigDog, who was on his way back to the shop, and had been out on the trail looking for me. When it got near closing time, I paid for BigDog's tire, and tossed it out in the sun to soften up - I knew we'd be putting that one on in the parking lot......and it's sure a whole lot easier when the carcass is warm.

We'd been or the road so long, it felt normal - not like an adventure any longer. Like we were SUPPOSED to be doing this. BigDog made it in, and changed his tire out. It was then I noticed his right front fork seal was blown. I spent a few minutes with a thin biz card I'd picked up a few days earlier and cleaned a load of goop out of the seal lips. I didn't have a great fealing about it, as the seals on BigDog's 950 has over 20,000 miles on them by now. We ran her til she blew. But it was only a fork seal and BigDog wasn't much worried about it. We pledged to bleed them down often to try to minimize the fluid loss. The 950's had done a very impressive job so far. A quick blast of WD40 on the chain, and we decided to go look for a cheapo motel since it was already about 1930. And we found it, only it wasn't real cheap. And it had the distinction of being the worst motel I've ever stayed in on three continents. I wandered off for a Tecate beer and some fried rice while BigDog barred the door. Thanks IdahoeJoe, Bob and Mike. 'Twas good meeting y'all.

Today's map.....

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