Let’s see, where were we when we spoke last? I was signing off from Susanville, falling asleep in between sentences. It’s funny, each day is so full and even though I skipped one day of writing, it seems like a week since I have written. Actually, I had to write my article for ForKauai last night and that was all I had in me.

When I left Susanville yesterday morning, I didn’t bother to fuel up, a very dumb maneuver, considering bikes like mine are good for around 200 miles, with a less than accurate gauge. In this part of the country, you can ride for miles without any gas stations or even signage telling you how far. You really have to get used to the distances out here. One of the first things any biker will tell you is to always leave a town with a full tank. Sometimes, I am amazed at my blatant stupidity. My gauge was dropping and I was starting to envision an awful scenario of puttering off to the side of the road, miles from anywhere.

The ride between Susanville CA and Weed OR is basically through the Lassen National Park, with clusters of pines and huge expanses of open land and not much green. I pulled off at a rest area, a large unmanned edifice, with bathrooms and some benches and display cases, but no information about gas stations. There was another motorcycle parked off by itself. Fred and Brandi stepped out of the shadows, Coors cans in hand. I shared my dilemma with Fred, who seemed to think I could make it. They live up in Medford OR and had traveled down 89 the day before and were heading home, which was my direction.

We road together, at least I tried to keep up with them. If I ran out of gas, Fred had a number of empty Coors cans we could use to shuttle fuel from his tank to mine. Finally, there was some signage and the icon for gasoline was a beautiful sight to behold. Knowing success was at hand, we pulled off the road and had some Coors. The little pit stop of a town is called Old Station. I filled up the tank and then promptly dropped my bike, which was inevitable, considering the difference in our weight. When you creep along at a couple of miles an hour and do something like turning the wheel sharply, disaster can strike. Fred and Brandi were around back of the place, having a Coors and smoking cigarettes. There were around a half dozen very large bikers back there with them. It was all motorcycle talk, none of which I understood.

I got back on 89 and I rode a few hours until I stopped at Mt. Shasta. I was so relieved to have fuel that this ride was great. There was a farmers market going on in the middle of town. I walked around some and then grabbed a burrito and got back on the bike for the last leg of this ride. The destination was Weed and no, I am not making up the name. I got in around 5P and checked in at the Townhouse Motel. I walked over to the Hi Lo Motel for some home cooking. I actually had liver, bacon and onions and I am still alive.

This morning, I had a fairly short ride to Klamath Falls. It was great riding for around two hours and calling it done. It is wide open country with miles of hay for the cattle during winter. My motel is next door to the Klamath Basin Brewery and as soon as my bike was unloaded, it was off for some lunch and beer. I couldn’t believe a sign they posted in their outdoor seating area.

I took a ride to Klamath Lake for a little relaxation and a photo op. I get so focused on the bike that all I often think about is getting to my stop, so this was a welcome change in the routine.

I am in my room for what was going to be an easy catch up on the blog and an early night. It is already 11P and I have been having a nightmare of a time with my cellphone, which is also my camera. I have been unable to get the phone to talk to my computer and it has thrown me. While I was riding here today, I was thinking about how much I worry and how change unsettles me. This ride has been all about change. I may have to find a mechanic for my phone.

We will see what tomorrow brings. I am riding up to Bend.