The GRAND Adventures Sidecar Duo

Day 4: Saturday: This is pretty much the last day of the rally, tomorrow morning, everyone will pack up and head home. Today was going to be a long and busy day. Sidecar games. Catered dinner. Door prizes, 50/50 raffle, awards from the sidecar judging, the sidecar games, and the sign-up sheets (longest distance, youngest/oldest, etc). After a quick breakfast, we wandered over to Walmart to buy Opa a fancy crank radio, so that he could listen to his news stations on the radio. We went to the field around the corner from the camp to participate in the sidecar games. Opa said it was too hot for him to stand out and play. Luckily, a wonderful lady named Cathy with a dark green Ural asked to be my partner and vice versa. Game 1: Sidecar passenger had to play cornhole from the sidecar while never stopping and maintaining the line in the grass. Game 2: Sidecar passenger tries to make the basketball go through the hoop while the driver never stops the bike, while driving on the line. Game

Day 2: Thursday. We woke up drenched in sweat at 6:45 and it was already 80 degrees in our tents. We crawled out to sit at the picnic table in hopes of catching a light breeze. The energetic rabbits kept up entertained and distracted from the heat and baking sun. A delightful polite woman came over the hill while we were finishing our breakfast and debating a cold shower to wash off the sweat before 7:30, she was the one we were supposed to speak with in the hopes of getting a better spot (according to the not so pleasant one from the night before). I finished and left Opa to finish his coffee and to clean up his breakfast stuff; meanwhile, I went up to speak to the woman about possibly moving to a different site. It took all of 15 minutes to rearrange some sites and discuss the removal or a rental trailer. When they realized that the trailer was of no interest or interference to us, they gave us the spot. We barely packed, I didn't fully deflate my sleeping mat, let my sleeping b

This past week, I went to Rising Sun, Indiana for the National Sidecar Association's 40th Annual Rally. The rally was roughly 6 hours away and the drive was almost unbearably warm. I have finally cooled down enough to sit and bang all of this onto a keyboard for the total of (maybe) 5 readers might possibly get a kick out of. True to history and tradition, when we were 3/4 of the way there, we (of course, you know by now what is coming) stopped for Dairy Queen Blizzards. And just like that our sweet relief was done and gone, then it was back on the road, to melt some more. As we made it closer to the small town I heard this little "doo-doo-doo *low battery*".   Now normally, most would pull over and attach the charging cord or pull over to exchange the information. Nope. Not us. There's no point in dealing with all of that mess when you are less than 10 miles from camp! He had his GPS set for the city and I had mine set for the rally site. So, when I had the chance to

Everyone jokes that you should never ride faster than your guardian angel can fly. This month has been sprinkled with a few unfortunate incidences and passings. I had a friend who dropped his bike in a wobble on the freeway, luckily it was the dead of night on an empty highway and slid into the oversized median. He was able to call emergency services to help him. He will be fine once he gets a new bike and a new set of gear. An acquaintance who has been battling cancer, unfortunately had finally met his match. He rode his bike/sidecar until his last few days. When I met him almost 2 years ago, he apologized profusely and went to cover part of his face that had been taken by cancer. After telling him that was only necessary if he wanted to of his own accord, he whole demeanor changed. He wasn't so hesitant or cautious; he was bright, loud, he filled the garage, the yard, the whole neighborhood. He would ask about me every time he spoke with my grandfather. When we got the call, it s

I was asked by a friend to make a post on our group's facebook page: Motorcycle Tourer's Forum- I figured that I should probably put it here too. Luckily he has not read my sappy posting. My grandfather made a monster. Like Frankenstein but it was out of a well ridden motorcycle, passion, and the curves of the lower Appalachian mountains. My first ride was on the back of his bike in the long and winding gravel driveway. He told me that it would be bumpy, like a dragon’s back. I was scared but after more than 200 yards and stopping at the mailbox, all I wanted was to fly down the mountain. I was still too young to camp or go on longer drives. So my regular rides started with me riding to his friend’s motorcycle shop and the ever constant Dairy Queen. Before long I was able to leave school during recess to go ride and camp. I did not ride much as a teen. However, the desire never faded. I had gone to rallies and seen that he had hundreds, thousands, tons of friends. He knew e