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Motorcycle Trips

When I was in college, I bought a 360 Honda motorcycle. For a time, it was my only means of transportation, so I rode it year round. My brother Dan lived in Arizona at the time. I’d get a few weeks off in the summer, between semesters, and would ride my motorcycle to visit him.  My first trip was quite an adventure for me, having never traveled beyond Minnesota and western Wisconsin (with the exception of a 4H trip where we flew to Maryland).  I brought a small tent and would pitch it wherever it ended up after a day of driving. For the most part, I was unprepared for what I faced. Being summer, I saw no need for jacket or gloves. I soon learned that the temperature could get down near freezing in the mountains of Colorado and near Flagstaff an night. I had no money to remedy that and so just had to tough it out. Indeed, on the way home, I ran out of money in Nebraska, and had to make a collect call to my Mom to wire me $20 so I could buy enough gas to get home.

My last summer in college money was even more tight, so I decided to forego the trip to Arizona and instead to take a short trip through northern Minnesota. This was my first exposure to the wondrous beauty of northern Minnesota. Lake Mille Lacs, Lake Superior, and Lake Itaska are etched in my mind forever.  I drove through the wilderness on the Echo trail and loved it, but it was tricky on a motorcycle, since there was a lot of loose sand and gravel.  While I was way up north I decided, on the spur of the moment to see a bit of Canada. I entered Canada at International Falls and re-entered the US at Baudette. What struck me the most about Canada is that all the farm houses had three sides painted, and one side left unpainted. I found out later that if they painted all four sides they would have to pay higher property taxes. When I re-entered the US I cheerfully answered the border patrol’s questions: “How long were you in Canada?” Answer: “A couple hours.” “Where did you go?” Answer: “From International Falls to Baudette.” That was enough to convince them that I had gone to Canada to pick up drugs. So, they proceeded to disassemble my motorcycle and go through all my gear. Finally, having found nothing, they told me I was free to go. I remember seeing my gear and pieces of my motorcycle strewn all over. It took me the rest of the day to get it put back together and get back on the road.