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Code of the Road
In the sport of
motorcycling there are unwritten pieces of knowledge passed from rider to
rider. In the Code of the Road, Hawk Hagebak shares these pieces of knowledge
for you to read at your leisure. Hawk will answer your questions, share some
experiences and provide you with motorcycling travel tips that will compliment your already
extensive knowledge of the coolest form of transportation in the world.
April
2010
Kindred Spirits? Hawk with a Hack? (Part
II)
Fortunately, my desires to
keep my word to my daughter and buy that infernal sidecar were met by my
successful arrival in Butler,
Wisconsin! If you have no idea what the hell I’m talking about, click on
Archived Codes on the left and read the March 2010 Code of the Road.
However, there’s much to do
before buying the sidecar rig and getting it back to Atlanta. For starters, I needed rest. I had
arrived in Milwaukee
at 1:00 am and was welcomed by my brother’s brother in-law. He was kind
enough to wait up for me and give me the beer that is required of a man after
a trip of that endurance. He and his wife live in a charming house in the
historic district. After carefully confirming that I was indeed parked on the
side of the street that wasn’t going to be swept too early the next morning,
off to bed I went.
In the morning, the sun came
up too early and my bones creaked with age and anger for being moved too
soon. Looking outside, I could see a couple feet of snow on the ground and
thought it was splendid. Once downstairs, my hosts thought less of the snow,
remarking, “It’s so ugly, I hope you get to see it when it first falls.” After
a few cups of coffee and confirming the directions to Butler, we were off to breakfast.
Since they had been such gracious
hosts, I told them to pick the spot and I would be glad to buy the breakfast.
After a brief, albeit polite debate, they settled on “McBob’s”. They assured
me that it was within walking distance and a good local watering hole. McBob’s might actually be McRobert’s, but I
can’t say for sure, but it’s a genuine Irish bar in Milwaukee
and soon I would discover vast differences between Atlanta
watering holes and those in Milwaukee.
We ordered Bloody Marys. They arrived at the table
with the standard tomato juice vodka base with ice, but the most unusual
garnishes. Perhaps I’m sheltered, or maybe naïve to the world, but before McBob’s,
I’d not seen a Bloody Mary with a grilled hot dog and pickle wedge as a
garnish. To widen the gap between my
world and that of southern Wisconsin,
I gave the waitress my best RCA dog impression when she asked if I wanted a beer
chaser with my breakfast. “Beer chaser? What, like
do that make beer here or something?” Just kidding, I know that Milwaukee is famous for
making two things- Beer and Bikes.
After breakfast, I bid my
hosts adieu and took the 15 minute drive to Butler. Along the way, I passed the Harley-Davidson
factory and considered taking time out of my travel day for a tour, but
reconsidered. After all, I reasoned, “Milwaukee
is only a half day’s drive; I can come back next weekend!”
Following the directions from
my brother’s brother in-law, the trusty Google maps and to be triple sure, Mapquest as well, I found Competition Cycle. I was
greeted by several bike mechanics that were curious what nut would drive all
the way from Atlanta
to buy that sidecar. A few asked what it was going on and seemed pleased with
my reply, “I’ll get her pinned to a ’93 Goldwing.” I
was relieved to hear one reply, “Good choice, man, that’ll be cool.” The shop
is somewhat of a history lesson in motorcycles as well. If ever you get the
chance to wander around in there, they have a Police Servi-Car
from a local jurisdiction that still has the old radio and ticket book
mounted to the handlebar. There were old Indians (not talking about the cigar
store kind either) everywhere. I spent 10 minutes there before I felt the
road calling. Given an opportunity, I could spend a day or two just kicking around
the shop, tinkering with all they had on display, in the process of
refurbishment or helping with simple repairs. Just to say that I’ve tuned a ’48
Indian, it’d be worth the labor to get the bragging rights.
  
Well, the hack rig looked just
as good as advertised and I was pleased. The shop owner and another couple of
guys helped lift it into the back of my weakling truck,
got it all tied down, shook hands and parted ways.
Snow was everywhere from Wisconsin, through Illinois
and into Indiana.
A strange thing happened to the scenery in Indiana. With low clouds slowly pouting snow,
visibility was reduced to about ½ mile. I’m accustomed to reduced visibility,
but seeing the ghostly wind farms “materialize” from the dark snow clouds was
unusual and striking. “The things you see when you drive instead of fly!” I
thought to myself, or maybe I said it out loud, who knew if I was actually
talking or thinking to myself? I was pretty road weary and ready to be home.
The trip was going well and I checked the sidecar often, just to make sure my
baby was still there. It was and it even maintained its rightful place,
square in the center of the truck bed, through a windstorm that came up as I
made it from Kentucky and into Tennessee. I was sure
at one point that my light truck was going to be carried away by the breeze,
but the sidecar proved to be too much weight to lift, so I was spared.
I arrived home on Saturday
night, a little after supper, with my beautiful wife and appreciative child keeping
my dinner warm. My wife remarked; “You’re never doing that again, I worried
about you from start to finish.” I was secretly pleased that someone cared
enough to think like that, but my motorcycle spirit is too flighty to be held
down by worrisome thought.
Today, the sidecar and my ancient
Goldwing are being married in a quiet ceremony in Watkinsville, Georgia. The service being
presided over by Nathan Mende, minister of
motorcycles. Nathan is the only man in Georgia
whom has the absolute trust of every hack rider I’ve spoken to in the state
(and if you own a hack rig and live in Georgia, I’ve probably spoken to
you about Nathan).
I’m looking forward to seeing
and feeling what the sidecar will be like on the Wing, but rest assured, it’ll
be the start of a new chapter of family motorcycle adventures.
Until next month,
Kickstands UP!
~Hawk
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