Palm Springs | 01.20.2018 (Day 1) Pt. 3
Harley Davidson motors produce a very mechanical sound. It’s a deep and throaty cough with a ‘chug-a-chug-a – chug-a-chug-a – chug-a-chug-a’ cadence. Off the line[1], they growl in the lower RPMs and ramp up to a roar. But once you get them on the highway, and up to speed, they run at a constant purr. That’s how my bike sounds right now. Rolling over the smooth pavement of Interstate 10, I can hone in on the engine noise. My 883 cc motor is made for speed – at short distances. Once you get her over 80 mph, she shakes more than an anxious chihuahua. Road tripping with my bike is like signing up a sprinter for a marathon. But at a steady 75 mph, Michelle and I are able to relax for the final leg. The stability of sub-80 mph allows me to compensate for the road up ahead: windmill country.
The San Gorgonio Pass contains over 3,000 windmills. And for good reason. Winds rip through this region regularly. In previous rides, I’ve nearly been lifted off my bike by headwinds. Fortunately, the additional weight packed onto the bike helps battle the winds and we glide onto Route 62 without incident.
Less than 10 miles down this lonely backroad, our campground awaits. Highways like this are perfect for picking up speed. Flat, vacant, smooth. I pop the bike into 5th and pull the throttle back. The needle on the speedo[2] climbs. 80. 85. 90. 95…100.
Whenever someone asks me what it’s like to hit 100 mph I deliver a very anticlimactic response: “You can’t really tell the difference.” The only places you can safely reach 100+ mph are on empty country roads. Out here, it’s desolate, meaning safer conditions for riding. On the other hand, there are fewer points of reference for you to gauge your speed. Truth be told, with buildings flying by at 60 mph in the city, you feel like you’re going faster.
We roll into the campground right at noon. After checking in, we ease the bike into our spot and dismount. In the dead of winter, most of the sites are vacant. A plus for space but a minus for peace of mind. There’s always a ‘safety in numbers’ mindset when you’re out in the wilderness. Gravel covers the entirety of the lot with soft rubber pebbles designating the tent area. A wooden picnic table sits at the center and trees line the west side of the grounds, providing limited refuge from the swirling winds.
This is Michelle’s second time camping – EVER! On our first trip, I took her to a beachfront site that was literally steps from a neighborhood supermarket. Far from remote. My goal is to gradually introduce her to more primitive accommodations and this campground is the perfect next step. Removed from civilization but chockful of amenities (pool, hot tubs, showers, laundry mat, etc.). We unload and begin pitching the tent. She’s particularly taken with hammering the stakes into the dirt, which is imperative in these blustery conditions. One strong gust against the broadside of the tent could send you rolling down the drive like a hamster in a ball.
After we remove the rest of the gear from the Harley and lay out our sleeping arrangements, we depart for Palm Springs. With reservations for ATV rentals in the afternoon, we want to sneak in as much time as possible before sunset.
On our way into town, the land flattens and the trees disappear. Winds out here pick up sand, and in this open environment, we’re vulnerable. Off the roadside, a sign announces ‘DRIFTING SAND’ and I take it lightly. But as we descend the overpass, a gust hits us obliquely from the right. I can feel the wind push at the rear of my ribs. Wind-blown sand hitting the shell of your helmet sounds like a sizzling frying pan. Gust. Sizzle. Gust. Sizzle. The winds are so strong that I’m struggling to keep my line[3]. The front tire veers to the left and into the other lane. As we approach the shoulder, I lean to my right, against the wind. In normal conditions, this would force the bike to turn right. Steering a motorcycle is done more with your body and less with the hands. Some racing schools even lock the handlebars in place so their trainees are forced to lean into turns instead. In order to counteract the effects of the crosswinds, I hang off the side of my bike at 45°. My body position looks like I’m turning, but the bike is continuing straight. Once we reach the suburban neighborhoods of Palm Springs, I can ride in my normal position again. Houses and small businesses break up the wind and protect the inner community from the open desert.
While in town, we grab a quick bite to eat before peeling off the main road and onto Route 111.
We arrive at Off-Road Rentals in good time. The crunch of gravel under my tires tells me that I should pull straight into a spot. With my street tires, maneuverability is sacrificed on loose surfaces.
We hop out of the saddle and stride to the entrance. A collection of discarded Jeep Wranglers, motorcycles, and train cars decorate the grounds like a vehicular graveyard. To our right, old tires outline the boundaries of the windswept off-road course.
After a safety video, Michelle and I are led to our Honda TRX 90s. I throw my leg over and sink into the seat.
“Ooh, comfy,” she remarks.
I nod in agreement.
Motorcycles and ATVs share a lot of the same DNA (handlebars, riding position, manual transmission, etc.), but ATVs are very different in 2 departments: stability and suspension. The support of 4 wheels is irreplaceable. On a bike, the rider’s balance and core strength keep the vehicle upright. That’s not the case with ATVs. While you need strength and balance to control the rig, the margin of error isn’t as high, so I’m already feeling comfortable. As for the suspension, these vehicles are made to handle the toughest of terrain so the shocks really buffer your rear end from the road. Unlike street bikes, where you can feel some potholes rattle your skull. A suspension as soft as this ATV’s would sacrifice handling and stability, so I’m making sure I soak in the comfort while I can.
Following a quick tutorial from the instructors, we’re off. The course is wide and rugged, but Michelle prefers to learn the ropes away from the pack. We retreat to the practice course on the backside of the facility. From the time that Michelle first jumped on the back of my Harley, she’s toyed with the possibility of owning a bike. We’ve come to an unofficial agreement that she would use my motorcycle to practice for the rider’s test. But as we roam around the practice course, I have second thoughts. When I slip off and whip around the track, Michelle is left acclimating herself with the controls. By the time I come back, her ATV’s mounted on an out of bounds tire.
“What happened?” I ask.
“I’m getting used to the steering,” she explains.
To be fair, these Hondas are tiny. With such a cramped riding position, it isn’t easy to get your knee out of the way of the handlebars. I lift, the ATV off the obstacle and she jumps back on. Once I pull off again, she gives it another go. I shoot over bunny hills, slide through some banked turns, and do a few figure eights before returning to Michelle – stuck in a ditch again.
“What happened now?”
“You know in Mario-Kart when you hit one side and overcorrect?” she says, “That’s what I did.”
By now, I’m growing skeptical. “If she’s having this much of a problem on 4 wheels how’s she going to do on 2?” I think to myself.
“Let’s go to the bigger course,” she proposes, “I think I need more room.”
As we ride to the main track, I think back to my first days on a motorbike. I’d be lying if I said I was a natural. Riding a bike for the first time isn’t easy if you’re not used to a manual transmission. I’ve stalled numerous times, both practicing in a parking lot and on city streets. When you’re learning to ride, it also takes some time to adjust to the braking. There’s a rear brake that you control with your foot and a front brake that rests under your right hand. During my training, there were several times I almost flew over the handlebars by clenching the brake lever too hard. Just like a bicycle, when you gain speed you gain balance. But when trying to maneuver a 540 lb. bike at low speeds, balance is the first thing to go. With a bike that weights three times as much as you, you’re going to drop her from time to time. I’ve downed her in the middle of a four-way stop, in front of work and outside a crowded restaurant. After each spill, I collected the bike (and bruised dignity), jumped back on, and gave it another go.
Michelle’s operating the ATV with more confidence now. Well, I can’t really speak for her confidence, but she hasn’t hit any other tires so far. She’s climbing hills, banking into turns and riding along the face of an incline. I have to remind myself that it takes time to develop these skills and if I can do it, so can she.
Once the sun falls below the mountain ridge the supervisors call in all the riders. I do a few last donuts in the bowl and reconvene with Michelle.
“That was fun,” she exclaims.
“I know. You improved,” I respond.
“Did you see me go up that hill?”
I nod and smile as we fall into single file and park the vehicles along a storage shed.
Before we leave we make use of the unique scenery:
The ride back to the campsite is windy but uneventful (luckily). We jump in the hot tub and recuperate from the long day of motorsports. After journeys like this, you try to turn in early. We traveled to Palm Springs for a bike show tomorrow so the morning only has more in store.
TO BE CONTINUED...
[1] Starting point in a race
[2] Speedometer
[3] Straight course
