I haven't used one of these things since 2003.

So, I'm embarking on this great American adventure of the Southeast. My favorite indy band, the Protomen, are touring the South and I thought this would be a great time to follow their shows for about a week or so. After that, I'll be meeting up with my brother, who's working on a documentary about laser tag competitions, and we'll ride back home.

I'm taking this trip on my 2000 Honda Valkyrie motorcycle. My venerable Valkyrie is essentially a stripped down Goldwing, complete with a flat-6 cylinder engine and a couple of comfort modifications.

I have until Monday night to reach Jacksonville, Florida where the Protomen are performing at a club called Jack Rabbits. I meant to leave Thursday afternoon, but was not able to leave until late Friday.

My trip didn't start off so hot. I wanted motorcycle gloves that would cover more than just my wrist (in case of rain) and a new belt. I rode out of my way, up to this place called US Made Leather on Route 1 that does awesome custom leather work. Unfortunately, they don't carry any gloves like that until winter, and trying to find a belt in my size was just about impossible. I settled for a 36, but apparently even that was too large and now I'm stuck with it. All the belts were either way too short or way too long; either she carries belts for oddly shaped people, or mine is such a popular size that they can't even keep them on the shelves.

I really wanted to wash my bike before my trip. I went to a self-serve car wash and everything went pretty well. But, about three miles from the car wash, some liquid substance on the highway hit my fuel tank. I tried to wipe it off with my glove, but it just made a mess. Not long after this, I hit Boston traffic, and ended up going to Logan airport to circumvent it and get to the Mass. Pike a different way.

It was smooth sailing all the way until about 30 miles outside of New York City. At this point it was about 5 o'clock and I figured it'd be a great time to get something to eat and wait out the rush hour traffic. I had some McDonald's where there was a young girl's soccer team just running around making a lot of noise. It was nice to see them having fun, but the chaperons really just didn't care and it was annoying. I met a trucker who was broken down and he started talking to me about '80s metal, and the scene around Philadelphia and New Jersey. It's funny how people know what to talk about with me. I told him about seeing Cinderella the other night and Doug's band opening for them. The trucker knew the lead singer from Cinderella, Tommy Something, and told me how Bon Jovi helped him get his start. I ended up leaving the rest area not long after 7 o'clock and the soccer girls were still there raising hell.

The traffic was much improved until I got closer to the George Washington Bridge. I guess due to construction and the nature of New York City everything was just slow as could be. I kept riding until I hit New Jersey and gassed up there.

New Jersey has a law that says ordinary people (you, not me apparently) can't fill up their own gas tanks. There was no way in hell I was going to let anyone else fill up my tank, because there's a trick to it on my bike, and if you don't do it right, gas spills all over the place. I had trouble understanding the guy, but he he let me fill my tank. That rest area was weird: it was kind of like the movie Idiocracy: I could make out each word the guy was saying, but put together none of it made any sense! I talked to a couple of other people at the rest area ("Where's the bathroom?" "How much is this?") but again, it was really hard to communicate for some odd reason. There was only person who made any sense, but by that time I was kinda freaked out and wanted to get out of there and back on the road. A guy on a BMW started talking to me about my bike and his bike. He was restoring his bike, which was from 1977. It was in excellent shape and I'd have never guessed it was that old.

I wanted to ride for another 100 miles or so but the New Jersey Turnpike was weird. It had gotten dark and I became one of the slower vehicles on the road. I decided after a little while to stop at the next hotel, of which I didn't see any advertised. About 50 miles in I saw a sign for a few of them, and using my phone decided to stay at the Days Inn, because it was easier to find and cheaper than the Holiday Inn across the street.

Had some Johnny Walker Black at the bar with some English guys who are touring the US and Canada. The barmaid asked me where I was from, to which my response elicited a, "I'll bet you're a Red Sox fan." No, not so much, I don't follow baseball. I paid and tipped her, after which she said, "Go Yankees!"

There's only one thing that annoys me more than Red Sox fans... Yankees fans.

We'll see what tomorrow brings!