Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Sunday, June 1, 2014
Rockers Reunion - Ton Up Indianapolis - May 31, 2014
Friday, close to midnight I saw a post from Dirka on our Flatlanders Facebook page. He and Greazy were running up from Southern Ind. to attend the Annual Ton-Up Indianapolis Rockers Reunion Vintage Motorcycle Show & Party. I'd been wanting to attend the past few years but was not able too and after a few hours of pondering decided "I'm in".
I woke before the alarm, as usual, tossing and turning a bit before rolling off the bed. Grabbed a quick shower and swallowed some blue berries and applesauce, along with two advil for my shoulder. The bike was pretty much ready. I threw a few basic tools in the bag just in case, along with a few fuses and an aluminum water bottle filled with gas. I checked the chain tension and the tire pressure as well. Rear was a little low, but thats how I run it. Having a rigid rear end means no suspension, therefore a few less psi's softens the blow you take from unsuspected buckled pavement and pot holes.
I was entertaining running Rt. 150 to Danville, IL then catching 136 over to Speedway, IN. But I wanted to get there and not dawdle with 30 mph zones every so miles down the two lane. I hit I-74 and headed east. Blazing right along I was watching the mile markers and road signs, keeping track of my mileage in attempt to NOT run out of gas. Riding the Goo Goo Muck is a little different than riding Lulu (my long distance runner). For example, the fuel tank only has about a 70 mile range, 30 or so less miles than the other one.
I crossed the stateline into Indiana with plans of stopping for fuel in Crawfordsville. Turns out the Pilot at the Covington exit would have been a better choice. The bike started to sputter and I flipped the tank to reserve and breezed into a rest stop a few miles before Exit 58. I added the fuel from my water bottle, hoping it would be enough to get me the remaining 15-20 miles to Crawfordsville. I kicked over the bike and merged back on I-74 westbound. As I approached Exit 58 I noticed a sign for gas. This was the Lebanon/Lizton exit and as I blew past the off ramp I realized that most likely I was not gonna make it to my intended gas stop.
I cut over to the right shoulder and whipped a U turn, riding up the shoulder of the on ramp, the wrong way. Once to the top, after a car went around me to merge onto the freeway, I hung a lou and rode into Lizton. I saw the filling station on the left and as I began to lean the turn into the parking lot, Goo Goo went pfffft and Newton's First Law of Motion took me to pump number six.
I filled the beast and decided to roll Rt. 136 the rest of the way to "Holmes" place in Speedway where I was meeting the guys. I breezed through the burbs, crossed under 465 and rode back and forth on Cunningham looking for 18th St. Apparently my mirrored KD's were too dark because I missed it three times and Greazy had to ride out and escort me back in.
We rode down to the Historic Melody Inn, a punk rock bar down in the Butler-Tarkington neighborhood. It is one of the cities oldest bars, dating back to 1935. If I lived in Indy, I would frequent this place. It just oozes cool and hosts all kinds of bands from punk to metal to hillbilly and rockabilly. Historic and legendary!
Across from the Melody the street and parking lot were filled with all kinds of old mo'sickles. Japs, Brits, Americans...all makes, models and styles. The three of us wandered around baking on the hot asphalt while checking out all the rad bikes We stopped at a few vendor booths and ate an overpriced slice of soggy Chi-town style za as well. At 6 o'clock it was time to ride to Flat 12 Bierwerks down on Dorman St. This was where the after show party was and where they'd announce the days winners in between bands.
Dirka's night glasses had blown off the bike sometime during the day and I didn't bring any with me, thinking I'd be back before sunset. We stopped at a few filling stations, and even a Kohl's, searching from some eyewear and struck out. We hit I-74 towards Brownsburg, knowing there was a Wal-Mart there where we could score some safety glasses. It was dark by the time we got to Wally World, but they had what we needed. After a mutual self checkout mishap, Dirka made a new friend, Katie. We were trying to convince her to ride back to Champaign with us, but she politely declined. Good girl. Once back on the freeway we made good time even though we had to stop two more times on the way back west. The first time was so that I could add what little gas I had into my bottle to the gas tank so that I could once again make it to the station a few exits down and fill up. I'll get used to this tank's capacity soon. This has only been the second time Goo's been ridden on an out of town trip, after having set idle for two years while I galavanted around the country on Lulu.
Blazing thru Urbana we took the Neil St. exit once in Champaign. As we were turning right on Market St. heading towards Mike n Molly's to catch my friends in Roberta Sparrow, we noticed Paul and Aro walking across the street from Memphis On Main, heading to the same place we were.
As Dirka and I's kickstands hit the asphalt, I heard Greg on the beer garden stage saying "check, check". We made it right on time.
I woke before the alarm, as usual, tossing and turning a bit before rolling off the bed. Grabbed a quick shower and swallowed some blue berries and applesauce, along with two advil for my shoulder. The bike was pretty much ready. I threw a few basic tools in the bag just in case, along with a few fuses and an aluminum water bottle filled with gas. I checked the chain tension and the tire pressure as well. Rear was a little low, but thats how I run it. Having a rigid rear end means no suspension, therefore a few less psi's softens the blow you take from unsuspected buckled pavement and pot holes.
I was entertaining running Rt. 150 to Danville, IL then catching 136 over to Speedway, IN. But I wanted to get there and not dawdle with 30 mph zones every so miles down the two lane. I hit I-74 and headed east. Blazing right along I was watching the mile markers and road signs, keeping track of my mileage in attempt to NOT run out of gas. Riding the Goo Goo Muck is a little different than riding Lulu (my long distance runner). For example, the fuel tank only has about a 70 mile range, 30 or so less miles than the other one.
 |
| Me, Greazy, Dirka |
I cut over to the right shoulder and whipped a U turn, riding up the shoulder of the on ramp, the wrong way. Once to the top, after a car went around me to merge onto the freeway, I hung a lou and rode into Lizton. I saw the filling station on the left and as I began to lean the turn into the parking lot, Goo Goo went pfffft and Newton's First Law of Motion took me to pump number six.
I filled the beast and decided to roll Rt. 136 the rest of the way to "Holmes" place in Speedway where I was meeting the guys. I breezed through the burbs, crossed under 465 and rode back and forth on Cunningham looking for 18th St. Apparently my mirrored KD's were too dark because I missed it three times and Greazy had to ride out and escort me back in.
Across from the Melody the street and parking lot were filled with all kinds of old mo'sickles. Japs, Brits, Americans...all makes, models and styles. The three of us wandered around baking on the hot asphalt while checking out all the rad bikes We stopped at a few vendor booths and ate an overpriced slice of soggy Chi-town style za as well. At 6 o'clock it was time to ride to Flat 12 Bierwerks down on Dorman St. This was where the after show party was and where they'd announce the days winners in between bands.
 |
| The Vice Tricks |
We stuck around for the Vice Tricks set, a rockabilly band from Louisville, KY. The singers voice constantly reminded me of John Reis of Rocket from the Crypt. They put on a good show and I always dig a woman playing the upright bass. Immediately after the winning scoots were announced Derek and I parted ways with Greazy and headed back west. Stopping at Holmes place on my way out. After shootin' the breeze with his friends a short time, he decided to accompany me back to the 217. Cool enough! By the time we got to the freeway it was beginning to get dark and neither of us had clears.
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| Roberta Sparrow |
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| Greg/Roberta Sparrow as the crowd sings along |
As Dirka and I's kickstands hit the asphalt, I heard Greg on the beer garden stage saying "check, check". We made it right on time.
Bikes from the Rockers Reunion
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