As most of you know, I have not missed an R3 (Previously known as SLO somethingorother). Until the crazy foreigners started showing up, I was the guy that always rode the furthest to get there. Miles do not scare me. I am an animal, a machine. Crank them out! Raise that odometer! You may also know that I do not sit still very long. Since buying my VFR in 2007, I have moved 3 times. Most recently to Virginia Beach, Va. I got here in December and have been working hard at getting set up so that my family can come join me. They are still in Tucson. Until last week, the VFR was still in Tucson. I needed a way to get her here. I cannot trust a stranger to move her. I do not have the right vehicle to trailer her here. SO...I was forced FORCED (I had no choice) to ride her here myself. It could not be avoided. Not to mention the fact that I have wanted to do a cross country moto trip since before I even bought a motorcycle. To prepare for the ride, I bought a steeringstem Powerlet jack from Josh over at www.wiremybike.com and had excellent service. It got to Tucson in time for me to fly out there and get it installed (which took all of 20 minutes). Powerlet offers many types of adapters for different applications. I just needed a 12v plug for my GPS. This allowed me to see where I was headed all along the way. On a trip of this magnitude, I decided it was a MUST. The next day I loaded up the Viffer with her full luggage rack and a few bungees. Kissed the wife goodbye and hit the road. The first day I rode east on I 10 into New Mexico then on over to Carlsbad. A good friend from school days is buried there and I had not had a chance to pay my respects for over 20 years. With Memorial Day approaching, I took the opportunity. That night I got a motel and had a beer in a dive bar and tried to avoid getting my ass kicked by a 1%er who didn't like my classic Honda moto shirt. I made it through unscathed, and managed to get a room without bedbugs. Day two I rode Hwy 20 across west Texas through super thick fog to Frisco, Tx outside Dallas. This time I visited with another highschool friend (a live one). I completely spaced on getting a picture with him. But I did get a picture of the box from his pizza place. The food is ridiculous. Brick oven stuff baked by a third generation pizza cooker straight from Italy. If you're in the greater Dallas area, ask for Brian, tell him Drew sent ya! As I bed down for the night, I checked the weather. There were 15 tornadoes just north of me all day. I had no weather issues so far. The forecast was calling for more ugliness the next few days, but it looked like it was going to stay north of me. I prayed. Day three I rode northeast to Nashville. One of my dad's old associates lives there and I wanted to do just a little touristy things. That day I rode head on into dark, nasty looking clouds many times. But each time, just before I got near any rain, the road turned and brighter skies lay ahead. I missed all weather again. Until I parked the bike for the night. That's perfectly fine. She needed a bath anyway. Day four was intended to be a short day, so I got a good country style breakfast and headed downtown. I like a show called American Pickers. A couple of dudes dig around in other peoples' barns and sheds and find cool old stuff and resell it. They have a couple stores called Antique Archeology. One in Iowa and one in Nashville. It is kinda small and a big tourist trap, so I took a couple pics, bought a vintage looking moto tshirt and boogied. I rode over to the Johnny Cash Museum, but there was some big music festival going on and I couldn't park anywhere. So I rolled out. From there I headed northeast some more towards Louisville. Somewhere along the way traffic ground to a halt. After a few minutes, the VFR got pretty warm. So I rolled up the shoulder to get some air moving through her gills. I noticed that construction trucks had blocked traffic in all 3 lanes of traffic for some reason. In front of the lane I was in was medium sized patch wearing, Harley riding gang. I figured I would just pull in behind them and wait for the traffic to go again. When I squeezed in behind the last bike, the pickup truck behind me got all bent and started honking and yelling some bullshit I couldn't hear over my headphones. The last two bikes in line dropped back behind me and forced me out of the lane, yelling the whole time. Only then did I notice the sticker on the door of the truck matched the vests of the bikers. Silly me. I should have known that a group of bikers would need a chase vehicle on a road trip. For fuck sake. After a few tense minutes, the construction trucks opened the road and it didn't take long for me to pull away from the slow-ass stinky grease dripping leather lickers and have the entire highway to myself for the next 15-20 miles. Well, after escaping certain death from the bikers, the weather finally caught up with me. It rained like a motherfucker for 20 minutes or so. I made it to the closest bridge and hunkered down until I could see again. By the time I got where I was going, I was kinda wet. But that's OK. After getting my wet clothes off and stretching my tired muscles, V4Bear treated me with some super high octane bourbon straight from a mason jar straight from the barrel. This is Kentucky, afterall. Barry and I go way back. We have attended MotoGP events in two states over the last 7 years or so. So we shared great memories and a few more drinks. This was the first time our bikes had been in the same place at the same time. And we even have cool custom stickers for a few extra horsepower courtesy of NorCalBoy and the folks at DrippingWet Designs After a good night's sleep and another good breakfast, I headed due east on 64 for the final leg of the journey. Day five was a ball busting 660 miles and nearly 11 hours thanks to construction and holiday traffic in Hampton Roads, Va. But I made it, by golly! 2250 miles all the way. Five days in the saddle. Only two minor issues withe bike. The speedo gave out somewhere around Nashville. Prolly the cable. No biggie, the GPS has a speed feature on it. And somewhere along the way the throttle grip started spinning on the throttle. Also no big deal. Nothing a little baling wire and a pair of pliers couldn't fix. Saturday I rearranged the moving boxes in the new garage to fit the cage and the moto And I took her touring kit off And made her feel sexay again I have a cramp-buster and a throttle lock. But they were both in a box here in Virginia. I am slowly getting the feeling back in my right thumb. But I can say I have ridden my VFR from one ocean to the other. I am sorry I missed R3 this year (for the first time), but I had a great ride of my own.