Last Updated: 8/18/10
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Crossing the country as a Victory Motorcycle Club member Is the Victory Motorcycle Club a forum or is it much much more? I guess it depends on the reason you own a motorcycle. If you own it to ride, I think the following story puts it all in to perspective. This is the story of TigerLily and USMCMustang's trip from their home in California to Lobsterfest 2009 in Florida as told by TigerLily herself: By far, the best road trip was the one where we just packed our Bikes and headed East. September 28, 2009 I quit my job to become a motorcycle vagabond with the love of my life – my Kingpin (and Burl). It was like something out of the Beverly Hillbillies. But instead of loading up a truck, we loaded up our Kingpins. And instead of going to California to live a life of prosperity, we left California with not more than what we could carry and a very small nest egg I had been growing while working as a postpartum nurse in San Jose, California.
Our first destination was camping in Big Sur. You see, after 28 years marriage, Burl FINALLY decided to indulge me in real camping. But it took about 30 minutes of setting up a tent in 40 degrees damp weather that I decided it really wasn't something I'd like to take up as a hobby. So alas, I may yet have to get a job to ensure a basic standard of life that includes basic cable.
We spent two nights there, but the highlight was riding on the Pacific Coast Highway during the days.
 
Here's a pic that got quite a bit of attention:
We rode and rode practically from sunup to most definitely beyond sundown!
Here's what a fellow Vicster, Dangerous Dave, said about this pic: There is something about this pic that rivets ones attention... beautiful capture, Lil!! Check the 3 "layers"... (sky, water, earth) The "wave" effect of the over exposed sun on the water, mimicked by the "wave" created by the arrangement of the bikes (even the grass has undulations)... The bikes look like patient horses waiting to go the way both headlights are positioned... there's a few more things noteworthy, but really... a beautiful photo.. And here was my response: Holy mackerel! You saw all that? I must be very shallow cause all I saw was Burl's big ass head trying to block the sun with his helmet that makes him look like the Great Gazoo in the Flintstones. Your analysis reminds me of when wine connoisseurs can taste honeydew seeds laced with a hint of goat breath. Seriously, I loved your post! I think it turned me on a little. And please forgive my irreverent tone – it's kinda who I am. Your analysis inspires me to take a more profound look at the pics I take. Now that you've stirred an awareness, I too can see much more into the pic than originally. Oh to have also captured the sound, smell, and feel of that moment! I think that people who ride motorcycles are more capable of experiencing nature on a more basic level. Our senses are inclined to be more aroused. Thanks, DD, for putting what we all as riders likely feel, but few are able to put into words. Tgrlil Burl and I got along lovely the first couple of days on our adventure. But on our way to Las Vegas, he really got under my skin. Here's the recap of that day: OMFG - usmcmustang ran out of gas today hauling ass on I-15 just 6 miles from Baker (right in the middle of the desert) located about 90 miles from Vegas. I have the pics but will post later. Usually he likes to coast, especially when there is no deadline. And usually it is I that speeds along watching my front, back and sides for cops. But today, we ran into a lot of riders on the road as they headed to Vegas for the Bike Fest. And Burly just has a hard time letting anyone go faster than he goes (except for me unless someone that matters is looking.) The dummy forgot to check that his gas light was on. When I caught up to him he was on the side of the road trying to flag me down. I wasn't about to stop since I knew I was on drops of gasoline myself and didn't want to jeopardize reaching my destination. A car tried to flag me down to let me know that Burl was trying to get my attention. I acknowledged him and pointed to my gas tank and then pointed to Baker, and then pointed back to where Burl was. He seemed to understand my sign language because he nodded and took off. I BARELY made it to the gas station and bought a 2-gal bucket and filled it up and did my best to secure it on top of my Beverly Hillbillies bike. Some of the bikers at the gas station were thoroughly entertained as I took off all my leathers to maneuver better. I was swearing like a sailor (not as bad as a Marine) and sweating like a Catholic whore in a Baptist church. Managed to get to Burl safely with the gasoline. I asked him what he was thinking blasting off like that on an empty tank. He said he failed to realize he was on empty and all he thought about was how gratifying it was to leave me behind so that I can see what it feels like to be left behind like I do to him all the time. I told him he is insane as I wasn't the least bit stressed about “being left behind.” I was more concerned that I'd need to bail his ass out when he ran out of gas. So he filled up, we kissed and made up, and all is well in the Bolton-Gonzalez family tonight. But stay tuned, it might get ugly as the trip progresses.
 
Then the time was right for me to learn to multi-task. I had seen experienced riders smoke cigarettes and ride at the same time. Since I'm not a smoker, I wondered if I could take pictures and ride? Here's my first pic that I took while on my bike. However, I wasn't actually riding. I was waiting for a light to turn green. Eventually, though, I took many, many pics while riding – sometimes while riding very fast ; )
Day six was a special day. Our two dear friends, Kathy and Mike, were wed on the strip on their Victories. It is the only motorcycle wedding I've attended. And to my surprise, Burl and I were told we'd be matron of honor and best man. Kathy is a tiny gal, except for her disproportionately large bosoms. She's so small she needs to wear platform boots to feel stable on her gigantic Kingpin. The Sin City Victory Riders rode through the desert in perfect weather to celebrate their big day.
As the trip progressed, domestic turbulence ensued. It became particularly acute once in Texas. Burl's usual issue is that I'm inpatient. My usual issue is that he's pokey. Here's a comment that exudes my frustration: OMG today was Day 9 and I thought I was going to murder usmc freaking mustang. But I'm too distressed to talk about it so maybe tomorrow. And since the vast majority of you viewers are men, you will probably side with Burl because he's married to a hormonal, pms-ing, perimenopausal, bitchy wife who refuses to take "happy" pills. I was pleasantly surprised that many of my Vicster pals sided with ME! One even told Burl to keep up. Here is what Burl had to say: You, my friend, have evidently never ridden "with" Lily. And, I guess I should not have said "with," because nobody rides "with" her... behind her, yes, but not "with" her. If the speed limit is 55, she is flat out at 85... always alert for cops, but still flat out at 85. She goes on for 100 miles like that with no let up where the road permits. If the speed limit is 70, she's at anywhere between 90 and 100... again SUSTAINED speed for an hour or more. So, I try to keep up... I really do... and I have a bike that is truly "faster" than hers... at least in the 1/4 mile... but at times I just give up and hope to catch her at the next town or whatever. Just after El Paso on I-10,East the speed limit changed to 80, so you know she was grinning from ear to ear. I can't wait to get back on the road this morning with that 80mph speed limit. How does "cruising" at 110 sound? Pray for me, my brothers. ;-) What a whiny baby! His name should be “Pearl” instead of Burl. But alas, I think some of the Vicster boys were beginning to side with him, especially after I ratted him out for his shenanigans in El Paso. Here's the “narc-out.” Day 9 - 10/6/09 We left Thatcher, AZ at around 0930 and rode for about 11 hours. I have had two days to cool off from the day's events. Everything was going well until we got communication from the daughter at about 4 p.m.. She needed Burl to fax something. Using his cell phone, Burl found the closest Kinko's located 7 miles from our location (in El Paso). Off we went, with me leading. We're on I-10 and he flags me down to pull over. I got off the ramp and realized that I needed to secure my jacket. Burl had pulled over after the ramp exit. I figured he'd wait for me to catch up with him, but when I got back onto the interstate he had left me. Supposedly, we had both committed the directions to “memory.” And everyone knows that I don't know my east from my west – and no one in this world knows that better that Burl. So why in the F would he leave me in the middle of El Paso, Texas, I-10, during rush hour traffic? So I got off on one of the exits and left him a scathing voice mail. (The details of which need not be repeated.) He called me back telling me he was at the Kinkos and tried to give me directions on how to get there. By now I'm sweating like an illegal alien going through a border patrol checkpoint and I tell him that I'd rather meet him on I-10 at exit #18. He agrees then remembers that I have the fax # with me and he doesn't have a freaking pen handy and even if he did, I'd have to unglove, find my reading glasses, rummage through my tiny purse that's filled with my bare essentials. Burl assures me that it's SOOOOO EASY TO FIND THIS PLACE. Famous last words. I leave the parking lot where I was talking to Burl, but missed the I-10 ramp because the cars seemed to be heading west and I needed to go east. The big-assed mountains in the background behind El Paso were my landmark. But as I kept riding, I realized that that freaking ramp curved back around and headed east after all. I had no idea how the hell I was gonna make a turn around in the middle of the heat, in rush hour traffic with a bunch of crazy Latinos on the road (like me in that I'm also a crazy Latino, but not like me cause I was unfamilar with the area.) OMG. I kept riding thinking about how I was going to murder Burl. Or maybe just leave his ass and meet him in Van Horn, or Johnson City, or Palm Bay, or NEVER. I keep riding and vaguely recall that Burl mentioned a street that I needed to be on. So I turned left and passed I-10, and low and behold I found Kinkos. Burl greeted me sheepishly and I felt a panic attack coming on but I knew that I still needed to ride and didn't think it was a good idea to drug myself yet. So I did one of my “mind-over-matter” meditations, found the fax #, gave it to him and we went towards Van Horn. It was very dark there and while we fumbled around looking for a hotel with WiFi, Burl made a sharp turn and dropped his bike. Down tumbled the killer bee with the mountain of camping gear on top of it, and down went Burl and he wasn't moving for a minute. I parked my motorcycle and ran towards him thinking he was dead or something and the little f-er was fine. He got up slowly and told me he might have cracked a few ribs and asked me to help him put the killer bee back up. So, still in a fight-or-flight response mode, I helped him get the bike up and he got back on it and told me to follow him. I stood there unable to move and decided it was time for my drug. Thankfully I still had a swig of water in my saddle bag so I downed it. He came back and asked what I was doing, surprised that I wasn't just blindly following him and I and told him we had to wait about 10 minutes for the pill to take effect so that I wouldn't have a full-blown panic attack. He thought I was being overly dramatic. He doesn't understand how traumatizing it can be to watch a loved one fall off a bike and be immobile even for a few seconds, never mind the previous fiascos that compounded it all. We found a lovely hotel for a great deal with fast internet and all was well with the world again. (Thank God for Xanax!)
Just as I recover from this experience, we enter upon more drama – the Bee gets a flat on our way to Kerrville, Texas, where we will stay with my brother until it's time to go to the annual Johnson City, Texas Pig Roast. By now, the Vicster boys are siding with Burl, telling me to take meds. But what they didn't realize, is that flats and breakdowns don't bother me. Good thing, cause this was just the beginning. Day 10 – 10/7/09 In Van Horn, TX, Burl said, “It's cold, foggy, and nasty just like San Fran-f-ing-cisco!” But the southern route to Kerrville was awesome. With only 100 miles left, the Bee gets a flat. Local riders offered assistance and gave us their #. Burl put a Flat Fix in, but the then the Bee's battery died. A local jump started it, but the tire was still flat. After one more Flat Fix, Burl called the tow truck.
We spent the night in Uvalde, Texas, and got to Kerrville by lunch time where we met up with my brother the waiter and Harley rider. I hadn't seen him in years. And then Burl surprised me by not wearing his helmet when we went to visit his son and grandkids.
The Johnson City, Texas, Pig Roast was a hoot. Met lots of Vicsters. And thanks to my reports on the VMC forum, Burl and I were practically famous. Here are a few of the pics with comments that I posted. 1. The bikes lined up in Luchenbach.
2. Here's a pic of a fellow girl rider. BTW, these texan riders are about the most civilized Vic riders I've been with. It wasn't easy minding my manners on the road :(
3. Bill's wife embroidered his kingpin on his shirt.
 
4. This was the best pic taking place in the campground, and if my uterous wasn't about to fall out, I might have hopped up there with him.
Day 15 was the day we headed to Lobsterfest. It started out as a lousy day in Central Texas. And we got all the way to Lafayette, Louisiana, with just a few sprinkles. In general, Burl left his rain gear on so that he wouldn't have to stop to put it on. And I left mine off so that I wouldn't have to stop to take it off. Here are a few pics of that trip. 1. Forecast heading east: rain, rain, and more rain.
2. Not lookin' too promising to shed the rain gear and helmet :(
From Lafayette we rode I-10 very fast and got to Pensacola, FL, where I had the best fried chicken livers and okra EVER! Here are a couple of pics: 1. Lotsa rain.
2. Distracted with pic-taking I missed an exit and Burl was pissed. When I asked him why he wasn't smoking while waiting for me he hollered, "Cause YOU'VE GOT MY F-ING CIGARETTES!"
Arriving to Lobsterfest was everything and more than I had imagined. We met a lot of Vicsters, went on some adventures and had loads of fun! The lobsterfest host, Jim (Lobsterhunter), was gracious and fun! I wanted to live and die in Florida – but Burl is more of a desert-lover. Here is a clip about Lobsterfest. I mentioned drag racing. That was quite the adventure because I busted a belt. But the Florida Vicster boys had my Kingpin up and running in 45 minutes – in time to race one more time in the dark, in ultra-high humidity, forced to wear full gear and a helmet for my safety :( OMG What a great time we're having. Lobsterfest was THE BOMB! And so were the many super-kool people we've met. I've got a lot of catching up to do on this forum picture-wise, but I just wanted to share my drag racing experinence which I posted under another thread: http://forums.thevmc.com/bb/forums/thread-view.asp?tid=79631&posts=... Talk to ya's soon. Burl is snoring away as it's 11:30pm in Florida and we're going on a ride tomorrow. If the weather is good, I predict it'll be a totally rockin' ride. TL Here are just a few of the Lobsterfest pics:
You can read TigerLily chronicle of the events and the members comments here.
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