I chose to go a different way home than the way we came so we could see some other stuff. With all the GPS problems on the way down, I let the iGo8 make the route instead of using the one I'd created before we left using Street Atlas.
The way home:
We were up and ready before either one of us expected. Here we are packed and ready to roll:
We ate breakfast at McDonald's before saying good bye to Savannah. Dad had to love this route. We took one of the straightest state highway I have ever ridden in Georgia. It was worse than slab!! Not much to see or even a reason to take the camera out to even attempt moving photography. We took a little break outside Sylvania where the gps shut off and struggled to retrieve the route once I restarted it.
The red line telling where the route should have been was there, so I just kept going, glancing down every now and then to be sure I didn't miss a turn. At first I thought I'd be able to fix the issues but after this ride, I decided I didn't want to bother. Now just to decided between getting another PDA or a specific gps unit.
On the long straight road home, I kept reflecting on the hours of conversation and the thrill of seeing my Dad's headlight in my side mirror. My parents got divorced when I was 12. I lived with my mom but spent some weekends with Dad, but not enough to suit me. We have always been close but some how drifted apart through my teen years. In my early 20's, I realized how much I missed him and made a conscious effort to talk to him at least once a month.
When I got my first motorcycle, I had no idea what a motorcycling life was about. Getting one had been a lifelong dream but now that I had it, what next? Weekend rides, moving to California, commuting to work; I discovered ways to integrate the motorcycle in my life but there was always a little something bothering me.
When I returned home, my Dad bought a motorcycle shortly after I got back. On a Saturday afternoon ride with him, I discovered the thing I'd been missing all that time. Him. This trip re-connected us like we were when I was little.
He was constantly surprised when I mentioned something I liked doing or watching that he also liked doing. I was constantly surprised by how much we think alike. I knew it, my mother never lets me forget it, but seeing it was different.
I think I was lost in this reverie when I came over a rise in the road and saw blue lights ahead. I slowed down and glanced in my mirror to see him making a u - turn. Surely, he wasn't coming after me. The speed limit was 55 on the two lane road outside of my mother's ancestral home near Wadley, GA. I was keeping my speed around 70 on the empty straight road. I pulled over and he said I was doing 77!
There was no way I was going that fast. When we transitioned to US1, I saw state patrol everywhere and was very mindful of my rate of travel. The radar detector hadn't missed a cop yet but this time it did. I wasn't fighting the wind like I should have been at that speed. I don't mind getting a ticket for what I was doing, but I do mind getting a ticket for what I wasn't. Anyway here it is, my first motorcycle ticket:
I was done taking pictures after this. He claims I can call and they will give me assistance with the ticket because if I was doing what I thought I was doing he would not have pulled me over. There wasn't another car on that road even after we left him, I think he did it because he was bored. I should send him the bill for the insurance hit I'll take for the next few years.
All in all it was a great trip and I hope we get to do something like this every year from now on.
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