I believe I am skipping ahead a couple countries I experienced in 2025, but I really wanted to write about one of my favorite ones (that being Japan). This country opened me up to its unique culture and really welcomed me. As with previous places I visited, I did minimal to no planning ahead, outside of my arrival in Tokyo. This is the best way to travel, with no schedule or time constraint pressures.
I am usually comfortable with no planning, but before arriving in Tokyo (one of the largest cities on earth), I was feeling overwhelmed. Within 30 minutes of landing I learned there was no need for those feelings, though. Tokyo is one of the most organized, safest, cleanest, and well laid out cities I have ever visited. As I traveled through Japan for the next five weeks, I learned the people are some of the most beautiful in the world, and that is coming from someone who has seen quite a bit of the world.
Being overly social and making friends everywhere, I happened to have a friend in Tokyo. I met Maico when I was traveling through Peru in 2012 and we kept in touch over the years. She owns a cute little coffee shop called Ami Cono (AmiCono) just two train stops outside Shibuya Crossing (a popular tourist destination).
I met Maico at her gelato shop and as we were reconnecting, she offered to take me out to dinner. Of course, I wanted sushi and she knew just the place! The restaurant was called Hiro Ishizaka, it was Michelin rated and much more than I expected. We spent the better part of three hours there as the owners (a husband and wife team) kept an endless train of sushi and saki coming at us until we couldn’t eat anymore. I feel fortunate Maico was able to get us a reservation, as they only served six people per evening.
As the evening came to a close, the other two couples left and Maico and I stayed to chat with the owners. It turned out the husband was a motorcyclist and being that I was about to rent a motorcycle that Monday for a week (or so), he and I had a deep conversation (mostly through Google Translate) on different roads to ride.
It was a great welcome to a new country. I was now armed with the knowledge of some great motorcycle roads and a few other highlights to add to my ever-growing list. I was ready to ride Japan!
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The building you see above is the San Diego Automotive Museum. Take a good look at it…the sculpted trim, the mosaic panels, and its architectural splendor. We’ll touch on those topics again at the end of this post.
Our travels this year have focused mainly on motorcycle museums. Why, then, you might ask, an automotive museum? The name (i.e., an automotive museum) suggests four-wheeled transport. But the San Diego Automotive Museum popped up when I Googled motorcycle museums, and when subsequently searching the definition of “automotive,” I learned that the word can be used to describe anything related to or concerned with motor vehicles, including motorcycles. In the case of the San Diego Automotive Museum, it does indeed relate to motorcycles. In fact, much to my surprise there are as many motorcycles in the San Diego Automotive Museum as there are cars.
The main motorcycle display area in the San Diego Automotive Museum. In addition to the dozen or so motorcycles in this hall, the Museum has other motorcycles displayed in other locations.
Some of the motorcycles in the display hall were ones I had never heard of, and as a guy who’s been fascinated with motorcycles since the early 1960s, that’s saying something. I’ve been doing some great things with Cycle Garden in Indio, California recently for Motorcycle Classics magazine, and I’ve always been interested in the V-twins from Mandello del Lario, so any day I see anything associated with that marque is a good day. Ever hear of the Dondolino? Yeah, me neither. It almost sounds like an Italian restaurant’s signature dish.
The Moto Guzzi Dondolino, and to be specific, this is a 1951 model. It means a small swing, as one would have for a child. The Dondolino…I like that. Check out the bologna slicer flywheel.Another shot of the Dondolino, this time a close of the fuel tank.
Another one that was fascinating for several reasons, not the least of which was its paint treatment, was a 1912 BSA single. Surprisingly, the Museum operations manager told me flash photography was okay (in most museums it is not). It was hard getting decent photos in the display hall, even though I shoot raw photos (not jpegs), as the raw photo format preserves all photo data (jpegs compress the data). The display hall was lit with tungsten lighting, which always make getting good color balance difficult. Even though the the raw photos allow for color temperature adjustments in Photoshop, it was tough getting these right.
The 1912 BSA single. Check out the bulb horn.
The Museum has a beautiful AJS motorcycle on display. Some of you older folks and more serious students of the motorcycle may know of the original A.J. Stevens and Company of Great Britain, which manufactured motorcycles from 1909 to 1931. AJS sold to Norton, and ultimately became part of Norton Villiers in 1966. That company went belly up a few years ago. Several organizations picked up the Norton name and tried to make a go of it; to my kn0wledge, none succeeded (although I haven’t checked in the last month or so, so maybe yet another Norton-named manufacturer snuck in). The AJS name has been revived as a small bike manufacturer, or rather, a name attached to 125cc motorcycles made in China by Jianshe.
A 1948 AJS 7R “Boy Racer.” The colors are classic. Note the megaphone exhaust.
You know, AJS is indirectly (and partly) responsible for the CSC name. When founded in 2010, today’s CSC was initially known as the California Scooter Company. The California Scooter Company manufactured Mustang replicas (the Mustang was a small American motorcycle made in the 1950s). The name, California Scooter Company, caused us no end of grief because people would look at the little Mustangs and ask, “is it a motorcycle or a scooter?” We always explained how “scooter” was a slang term for a motorcycle. I wanted to tell people they were too stupid to ride if they didn’t know the difference (but in an unusual display of politeness I never did). Ultimately, we shortened “California Scooter Company” to “CSC” based on the industry’s history of three-letter acronyms for company names. You know: BMW, BSA, KTM, AJS, etc. Then the questions changed to “What does CSC stand for?” I couldn’t resist that one and my answer was immediate: Chop Suey Cycles.
To get back to the main attraction (the San Diego Automotive Museum), both ends of the main motorcycle display hall are anchored by big American V-twins. One is a 1978 XLCR Harley Cafe Racer, which I think is one of the most beautiful motorcycles Harley ever made. The other end of the display hall has a garish chopper, one from a company appropriately named Big Dog. In an act of photographic mercy, I didn’t get a photo of it.
The Harley Cafe Racer. Always wanted one, never bought one. They were a shade over $3,000 in 1978 when new. I came close to buying one back then, but I didn’t pull the trigger.
Moving outside the motorcycle exhibit hall and into the rest of the Museum, as mentioned earlier there are motorcycles displayed throughout the other displays. One of the first is a Dan Gurney Eagle. Dan Gurney was a famous automobile racer who formed a company that mounted Honda engines in a frame in a manner that positioned the rider low in the bike. The seating arrangement was said to improve handling. Maybe it does. To me, it just weird, and rider visibility has to be terrible. I think I would look weird (or weirder than usual) when stopped with my legs splayed out to the sides.
A Dan Gurney Eagle. Weird, huh? The concept never caught on.
As soon as you enter the Museum, there’s a 1974 Triumph 750 T150V Triple on display (along with a two-stroke Suzuki 400cc dual sport). The Triumph Trident was supposed to be Triumph’s answer to the Honda 750 Four, but it was too little, too late. The Honda was far ahead of its competition. Triumph ultimately went out of business a few years later.
A 1972 Suzuki Apache and the Triumph Trident 750.
The San Diego Automotive Museum has a library, and our host explained to us that they are often visited by elementary school classes. Students use the library for homework assignments related to automotive topics. There are a couple of interesting motorcycles in the library. One is a Scott two-stroke (another motorcycle I had never seen before); the other is a 1914 Indian V-twin with a sidecar.
A 1927 Scott Flying Squirrel.A 1914 Indian C-3 with Sidecar.
In the Museum’s main display area, there’s a land speed record streamliner that at first I thought was a motorcycle. You know, kind of like the land speed record Triumph that hit 247 mph back in the 1960s (Triumph included a “world’s fastest motorcycle” decal on every bike). But this vehicle wasn’t a motorcycle; it actually had four wheels beneath its narrow body work. The Vesco Turbinator is powered by a helicopter engine, and it set a world speed record for wheel-driven (as opposed to jet propelled) vehicles.
The Vesco Turbinator. It set a world speed record for wheel-driven vehicles, cracking the 500-mph barrier.
I poked around a bit on the Internet and found this very cool YouTube of the Turbinator’s Bonneville speed run:
There were several kinds of cars on display, including an interesting collection showing the evolution of police cruisers.
The San Diego Automotive Museum has an impressive display of police cruisers.
One of my dream cars has always been the XK-120 Jaguar, and the San Diego Automotive Museum had one on display.
This sure is a beautiful automobile.
Do you remember Tom Selleck’s first television series, Magnum P.I.? The Museum’s displays include the Ferrari 308 from that show.
Thomas Magnum’s Ferrari. It was beautiful then and it’s beautiful now. I was surprised at its small size.
When I first moved to southern California nearly 50 years ago, we had traffic, but not like we do today. We read a lot of stories about billionaires leaving California, but as far as I can tell, it feels like a lot more people are here now. I think our population is increasing. High density housing and traffic are out of control. Back in the 1970s, it was no big deal to hop on my Electra Glide, head south, and arrive in San Diego two hours later. Today, that same trip is at least three hours, and that certainly was the case when Sue and I visited the Automotive Museum a few days ago. We have more freeways than we did 50 years ago, but the traffic is horrendous and it still takes longer to get anywhere. That said, our ride the other day was an easy hundred-mile stint south on Interstate 15 to California State Route 163, and then a right turn into Balboa State Park.
Although the drive down to San Diego was long, I didn’t mind. It had been at least 30 years since I’ve been to Balboa Park. It’s a national treasure. The Park covers 1200 acres, and it is one of the oldest parks in the U.S. The land was originally reserved in 1835. Balboa Park contains 17 museums and 18 botanical gardens. It also has theaters, restaurants, and the world-famous San Diego Zoo. The whole affair is managed by the San Diego Parks and Recreation Department.
As we chatted with our new friends in front of the San Diego Automotive Museum, they told us about the Air and Space Museum facility originally being built by the Ford Motor Company. It is directly under the flight path in to San Diego’s Airport. From the air, the Air and Space Museum looks like a Ford V-8.
After visiting the Automotive Museum, Sue and I wandered outside and shot a few photos of the building (including the one at the top of this blog). It was a glorious day, the kind that makes living in southern California a treat: 70 degrees, essentially no humidity, and not a cloud in the sky. As I wrestled with the big Nikon 810 and its 24-120 lens, we noticed two older gentlemen sitting at a table in front of the Museum. They watched me taking photos, and that led to a 45-minute conversation about life in general, getting old, being retired, enjoying days like the one we were enjoying, and Balboa Park. The two were both nearly 80 years old. One had been the architect for the Automotive Museum’s remodeling a few decades ago; the other had designed and built the ornate trim you see around the top of the Museum. They regaled us with stories about the Automotive Museum building, the Museum’s donors, and more. It was a pleasant morning, made all the more interesting with this conversation.
The way to take in Balboa Park (if you haven’t been here before) is not to do it the way we did (i.e., driving down for a half-day visit to the San Diego Automotive Museum). A better way to enjoy Balboa Park is to spend several days in San Diego. San Diego is one of the world’s great cities, and Balboa Park is its crown jewel.
You could spend a week just in Balboa Park, but there are many other fun things to do in and around San Diego, many of which we’ve written about before. The San Diego Zoo is one of the world’s great zoos, and it’s good for a full day (or two). There’s the USS Midway Museum, which can only be described as magnificent. The Deer Park Winery and Auto Museum is just a few miles up Interstate 15, with its magnificent collection of convertibles and wines. Mexico is just a few miles south, with Tijuana on the other side of the border, Tecate and its culinary delights an hour or so to the east, and all of Baja starting as soon as you cross the border. Baja is magnificent; it offers some of the best riding in the world. The restaurant scene in San Diego can only be described as spectacular, but don’t get waste time or money in the high-priced tourist eateries in San Diego’s Embarcadero area. If you want authentic Italian cuisine, navigate your way to Volare’s (it’s one of San Diego’s best kept secrets).
So there you have it: The San Diego Automotive Museum and a few other San Diego attractions. If you haven’t been to this magnificent city, San Diego is a destination that should be on your bucket list.
Even though I was an IT (information technology) Project Manager for 12 years, a weak point of mine happens to be IT. Yes, IT.
As an IT team leader one of my greatest strengths is not only placing others in positions where they can excel, but ensuring I do the same for myself. Living in Colombia I happened upon a new challenge. One morning my laptop refused to connect to the Wi-Fi. The laptop I had been using the past two or three years was gifted to me by a friend. This laptop had sort of “fallen off a truck,” or was “found in the alley.”
My guess is the problem I was now faced with was due to the organization it “belonged to” running an audit. I am certain the audit didn’t dig the Colombian IP address, so the laptop was terminated. I now had to purchase a new laptop here in Medellin, Colombia. Shouldn’t be a big deal, right?
Not the case, of course.
Finding a mall in Medellin wasn’t difficult. It was a huge modern three-story mall with nothing but IT and telecom stores. It was a bit overwhelming. I Googled reviews as I walked through the mall and it didn’t take long to settle on a store. I found a representative that spoke decent English to bridge the gap with my never-ending Spanish stumbling. He recommended a few basic machines. I began more research on reviews and picked out a basic laptop that would suffice (mainly for writing ExNotes pieces).
After installing Windows and basic MS apps, I returned to my apartment and noticed something was off. The keyboard was in a different format. It was a Spanish QWERTY layout. OK, not a huge deal: I could learn a new keyboard. What really confused me is they loaded the software for a standard American keyboard. This meant the keys did not match many of the symbols. I learned this on my own, but not before walking the streets of Medellin with my laptop asking locals to assist me. No one else could figure it out, either. This was becoming frustrating, but some relief that it wasn’t my incompetence that caused it.
Returning to my apartment, and after a bit more Google research, I learned to toggle the keyboard to the QWERTY format to match the keyboard, which is where it will stay. Yes, I am sure I could exchange the laptop and hunt down one with a normal keyboard, but what fun would that be?
I will be in South America for quite some time (more on that in another blog), so I thought I would just embrace the change. Also, it is now easier for me to do “¡” and “¿” symbols to impress the locals.
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Coming up…more on Cycle Garden and their impressive work on Moto Guzzi and other Italian motorcycles!
The photo above is another one of my all-time favorites from one of my all-time favorite local motorcycle rides here in southern California. It’s a circumnavigation of the San Gabriel Mountains, and it takes you right over the San Andreas Fault.
The route. This is a beautiful ride. It takes 4 or 5 hours to complete.
The ride is beautiful, especially on the northern side of the mountains along the southern edge of what we call the High Desert.
Valyermo, a nice spot to stop for a photo.Scenes on the north side of the San Gabriels. Note the snow still on the sides of the road.Descending toward the High Desert.The intersection of Devil’s Punch Bowl Road and Tumbleweed. Turn left and it will take you to the Devil’s Punch Bowl on the San Gabriel’s northern slope.The Devil’s Punch Bowl.
If you’re taking this ride, there’s a cool ranger station at the Devil’s Punch Bowl County Park. The park has several exhibits, including Squinty, an owl with an injured eye park personnel rescued.
Squinty says hello.Yes, indeed. A Western Diamondback in a cage. There are many, many more in the hills and in the desert.A Western Banded Gecko at the Devil’s Punch Bowl County Park. These are very beautiful.
We have a bunch of other phavorite photos here on the ExNotes site. The Phavorite Photo series came about as a result of a suggestion from good buddy Peter. Peter, thanks much!
Earlier Phavorite Photos? You bet! Click on each to get their story.
I had stopped at the perfect place for my morning coffee. Not only did the owner know of less chaotic roads, but the coffee shop was at the exact location to turn off to hit these mostly unexplored roads. I quickly finished my coffee and was out the door in minutes.
This would be the Vietnam I was looking for. No congestion, no traffic stops, just miles of mountain switchbacks. This new chosen path didn’t come without a bit more adventure, too. Over the next five days I didn’t see one Westerner or tourist. None. The village homestays I chose were so far off the beaten path I don’t even think many of the locals had ever seen a Westerner. Communication was strictly between my charades and some Google Translate. The more rice wine I drank at the end of the evening, the less I relied on Google and the more colorful my charades became.
The roads were beautiful as the paved switchbacks disappeared into the lush jungle mountains and became dirt. Some had precarious places with mudslides that consumed the dirt along these roads. On more than one occasion I would be filled with confidence as I successfully negotiated these obstacles, only to be put in my place as a 10 year old girl on a scooter would overcome the same obstacles (but one-handed as her other hand was busy texting). Talk about an instant ego check.
The days actually became very isolating with the empty mountain roads, and even emptier villages where I found myself staying. On more than one occasion I found myself alone in a rundown hotel room having ramen for dinner by boiling water from a tea kettle. Those moments were overshadowed by the adventure that always arrived the following day as I chose new mountain roads. It was exactly the experience I desired while motorcycling Vietnam.
For the next five days I hardly saw pavement or even other vehicles. When I would stop for a break at a viewpoint or for a drink of water there was absolute silence. Even if there had been noise, the dense jungle would have absorbed it. The jungle even consumed the sound of my moto crashing into the rocks when I occasionally lost focus. It wasn’t dense enough to absorb my pain-induced swearing as I reinjured my broken rib from my Thailand crash.
After nine days I returned to the sensory overload of Hanoi, which came in the form of massive traffic and chaotic roundabouts. I had completed the Ha Giang Loop. It was such an epic road. The greater accomplishment was leaving the tourist trap loop and experiencing the true, raw, and mostly unexplored roads of Vietnam.
Awakening the following day, I was eager to begin my second day on the Ha Giang Loop in northern Vietnam. Thankfully, the remainder of my first day on this road went without further incidents with local law enforcement.
As I continued northward in this beautiful mountainous region there wasn’t a day that went by where I wasn’t pulled over at least once. The officers I had paid the 8 million Dong to were true to their word as each time I was pulled over at license checkpoints the officer would pull out their phone and scroll through the many photos of tourists until I would stop them. “Right there! That’s me. See? I paid.”
The police officers then signaled me to be on my way. Outside a few verbal warnings to slow down, the police check points just became part of my daily routine as my journey continued.
Hitting the Vietnamese North Pole was one of my objectives along this ride. Starting off early in the morning was the best way to go. The early start was not only to avoid police check points and tourist traffic, but also to watch the mystical fog burn off the mountains as I weaved my way north. The roads were in pristine condition. The only thing more pristine was the green mountain views that unfolded as I powered through the corners. It was wonderful to have the road to myself, outside of the few meandering water buffalos that lazily crossed in front of me every so often.
Every day as afternoon approached, the police check points would appear. After a few days of constantly being pulled over to scroll through the police text thread, point out my photo, and on occasion be given a breathalyzer test (Vietnam has zero tolerance for driving under the influence), it began to get old. The road was filled with rental scooters. Most carried Westerners.
After four days of riding along the Ha Giang Loop, I reached my limit. I’d had enough of tourists, police stops, and crowds. Tigit Rental had written a solid itinerary, but at this point I needed more solace. I pulled into a coffee shop to see if there was another route I could take to deviate from the Ha Giang Loop (and there was). I hit smaller, less traveled roads. The coffee shop owner must have seen the frustration on my face as I zoomed through maps and roads to explore on my phone.
Using Google Translate with the shop owner, I described what I was looking for in terms of roads and a Vietnam experience. She quickly pointed out a direction. The roads she identified were remote and they met my criteria. The path would also send me north along the Chinese border, and then loop down to Hanoi. This would get me away from the Ha Giang Loop chaos.
At 10:00 a.m., I was behind schedule, for whatever that means as I don’t really have much of a time constraint these days. But I did want to complete 200 kilometers that day. My usual thinking is to make up time by simply twisting my right wrist. I fully controlled time and distance with that slight move. This mentality had been successful in the past and so why not stick with what works?
It only took about 20 minutes of thinking that way before I saw a metal overhang with what appeared to be a speed camera. Tigit Rental warned me about speed cameras. I was not concerned. I figured it would be a fine when I returned the motorcycle. The fine would be a small price for the control of time and distance, and just another problem for future Huber to deal with.
Well, this time future Huber and present Huber were about to meet as three Vietnamese police and waved me over. There was quite the collection of motorcycles from tourists that had also been pulled over. I was then ushered across the street and found myself instantly sitting in front of a judge. I was quite frustrated and said, “Look, I just paid your buddy down the street 8 million Dong. I have no more money to pay.”
It was a stalemate between the police and me. I refused to pay the fine. After about 30 minutes he came back and started a video call with who I am assuming was the officer I had just paid 8 million Dong. By this time my day was shot, so I didn’t care if he had me sit around the courthouse all day. I wasn’t paying.
After another 30 minutes of me obnoxiously broadcasting the play by play of the other tourists in front of the judge, they decided I had learned my lesson (and they had obtained enough of my money). The judge and officers took pity on me and let me go.
It was now approaching noon, and it was finally time to put some kilometers and the morning’s incidents behind me, but perhaps at a slower pace. I had spent about four hours of my morning with the local police and the courts. It was time to salvage the day. I kept my speed down, at least in the more populated towns and villages. Either way, I was now officially on the Ha Giang Loop.
It only took a mountain pass or two before the morning’s frustration was replaced with my enjoying being back in the moment. The road and the amazing mountain ranges of northern Vietnam lay before me.
Boy oh boy, do we have cool stuff coming up on the ExNotes blog! Here are just a few of the things coming your way…
The Rough Rider Knife and Custom Holster
Wow, a super cool Rough Rider large folding knife, so big it actually makes a Buck 110 look small, along with something that makes it even better: A custom-made holster, stitched together by good buddy Paulie B! It’s the one you see at the top of this blog, and it sure is sweet!
More Buell
Joe Gresh is going great guns with his new Buell. I am so jealous. You can expect more on Joe’s bringing the Buell up to Tinfiny moto standards, and maybe even get a chance to listen to the awesome potato potato potato aural splendor that is the essence of all things Harley.
Good times and good stories coming up on this one, boys and girls, including more on the Iconic Motorbikes auction process. Gresh greatness inbound, folks!
Good Morning, Vietnam!
We are digging Mike Huber’s Tales of the Open Road from Vietnam, and his stories have spiked a significant uptick in donations to the ExNotes site. Being the inveterate veteran that he is, there’s more TOTOR (Tales of The Open Road) revelry from Mike in work.
After Vietnam, it’s going to be Japan TOTOR, and then Colombia. I’ve been to both spots, and like you, I’m looking forward to Mike’s keyboard kraziness. Bring it on!
An Update on the How To Series
I’m doing a lot of How To articles for my favorite moto mag (one that should be yours, too), and that, of course, is Motorcycle Classics. I’m back in the saddle as you read this headed toward Indio and Cycle Garden, home to all that is classic Guzzi.
In addition to the Guzzi goodness, good buddy and ace tech Steve roasts his own coffee beans, and I am already jonesing for that first cup of Joe. The How To articles are running in Motorcycle Classics magazine, and if you don’t have a subscription to Motorcycle Classics…well, you should. Stay tuned!
Dirty Harry Rides On!
We haven’t forgotten our gun stuff. Want to read about a great .44 Magnum load in a superior sixgun? It’s on the way, my friends.
This is good stuff. So much so that Baja John and yours truly are talking about using the .44 Mag sixguns on our next Arizona pig soiree! Sooey! Clint Eastwood, eat your heart out!
Pizza Pizza Pizza!
It’s no secret…I like to cook. We’ve done a few recipes here on ExNotes before, and we’re going to be adding a lot more. If you can cook, oh, how can I say this? I learned from good buddy Texas John that the easiest way to meet beautiful women was to invite them over for a home-cooked meal. I’m an old married guy now, but prior to that, I put John’s advice to good use!
That’s a story for another blog, and I’ll get to it, but in the meantime, I’ll share my favorite pizza recipe with you in a near term blog. And yeah, that pizza above was as good as it looks!
Stay tuned, folks, keep clicking on those pop-up ads, and work that Donate button you see here and at the bottom of every blog. It’s what keeps us going!
I awoke in Ha Giang prepared for an early start. This would be my first day on the Ha Giang Loop. After a quick breakfast (see the photo above) and some coffee, I was packed and ready to ride.
I knew the roads could get busy, so I made it a point to have everything packed up. This would allow me to wrap up riding by 3:00 p.m., so I could explore whatever city or village I would be staying in that afternoon. Tigit Rental had printed out the route they preferred and my plan was to stick to it.
My kickstand was up just after 07:30 and I was off. It was about 07:40 when my kickstand went back down. I had been pulled over by the Vietnamese police. I wasn’t speeding (I never am, right?). It was a routine license check. I quickly pulled out my IDP (International Driving Permit) and handed it to them. Tigit Rental had warned me that my IDP was not valid in Vietnam. It literally goes back to some clause Vietnam refused to sign in 1949.
Tigit Rental had also warned me to keep a certain amount of currency separate to pay the “fee” to the police. That was where my ADD kicked in and I had forgotten the amount. Utilizing Google Translate and handing my phone back and forth, I now had three officers around me. One officer said it was 8 million Dong (about 256USD). I didn’t have that amount with me. I explained that to them and that a trip to an ATM was required and I would return with the payment for the “fee.” I was forced to either surrender my passport (which was not happening) or leave my bag.
As I ran the money conversion in my head, I realized the amount was not good. What’s worse is it took visits to three banks to find one that took my card (and that would allow that amount to be withdrawn). I also had forgotten to pay myself that month, so my bank account was now pretty close to zero after my previous numerous withdrawals. I was getting a bit flustered as I finally got all 8 million Dong and was ready to head back to the checkpoint, pay them, get my backpack, and depart. That was when I realized I had forgotten where the checkpoint even was located. I had been turned around so many ways in hunting down banks I was fully disoriented. The only thing I could think of doing was returning to the starting point, my hotel, and just re-riding my path from that morning.
That worked out and I finally made my way back to the checkpoint. The officer than asked why it took me so long and I know I typed something to the effect “I’m not that smart” into the translator. He then ushered me over to a van and in the passenger front seat opened a briefcase full of cash.
Looking back, this entire experience is a “what NOT to do” outline for these types of situations. I get it, and I fully deserve any bashing I get because I was beyond dumb here. I managed to get ever more stupid.
I thought taking my phone out to take a photo of the briefcase full of cash would be a great addition to this story, which I knew I would write eventually. As I angled my phone, another officer behind me grabbed it. This was not good. He spent five minutes reviewing every piece of data and photo in my phone searching for the photo that I never managed to take, and all the while I kept repeating “no photo.” He finally returned my phone.
I unknowingly overpaid the Vietnamese police about 150USD ((2 to 3 million Dong is the going rate; I had paid 8 million). I was almost arrested due to my own stupidity. There was just one final step to take before I could go on my way: A photo of myself and my motorcycle. This photo was uploaded to what I will describe as a massive group text chat for future altercations with the police that would prove I had paid my “entry fee.”
It was now close to 10:00 a.m. My early start was shot. I threw my leg over the Honda and fired it up. Feeling relieved I wasn’t going to jail, there was still plenty of daylight to salvage my slow and difficult start. Sadly, that relief was short lived. In just under 30 minutes, I found myself sitting in front of a judge and more police.
As I left the gas station in Mexican Hat the sky was looking extremely menacing. I knew that camping in a lower elevation in the Valley of the Gods may not have been the best idea, due to possible flooding. The roads can get really slick with rain. There was a great state park just a few miles away. In fact, it is such a great place to camp I was hesitant to name it here, but it is Gooseneck State Park. There are about 20 campsites there which are on the edge of a 1,000 foot drop into what looks exactly like Horseshoe Bend. This park would suffice for my home for the evening, although in hindsight I should have gotten a hotel. But then there wouldn’t be a story.
I pulled into Gooseneck State Park and set my tent up. The sky was black. It really looked menacing, and I was quite sure it wouldn’t be a dry night. After setting up my tent I did my usual walk around the park and talked with other campers. I began chatting up some other riders and invited them over for a beer and to share my fire. Within five minutes of talking to them one replied to me as he pointed to the sky. “Yeah, you may need all those beers for yourself, and there is no way we are having a fire. Good luck.”
A few minutes later I found myself in my tent alone drinking my beers as the sky opened up. This was not good. As the rains continued to pelt down the winds picked up. Within two beers the ground became so soaked that my tent stakes had uprooted in the now mud puddle I was camped in. The tent was being blown all over just making loud cracking noises like a whip. Fortunately, I had brought my panniers inside and positioned them at diagonal corners of the tent in an attempt to keep the tent somewhat grounded. Unfortunately, the winds had grown so strong that my entrance zipper was ripped apart.
I felt like this was as bad as it would get. Sadly, I was mistaken as a strong gust got under the tent and threw my pannier across the tent and in doing so the floor of my tent was ripped apart. I managed to get a little bit of sleep that evening but not much. In the morning as I awoke at 5:00 a.m., I noticed my tent had a couple inches of water in it. It resembled a kiddie pool. Everything I owned was soaked.
By 05:30 I had everything packed up and I was ready to find a coffee shop to dry out in. My plan for that day was to meet one of my 82nd Airborne friends in Cortez, Colorado for lunch. Even though I had an early start I showed up late, due to trying to dry my gear out. When asked why I was late I simply replied I had to hit a hardware store for duct tape. He then looked me up and down as I was covered in mud and even my 82nd Airborne hat was destroyed from the previous night. “What the fuck happened to you?” he asked as he took in my appearance. I ordered a beer and began to tell him of my adventure. Even though I had a rough night, Scenic Byway 163 is still one of the greatest roads in the United States.
I am usually comfortable with no planning, but before arriving in Tokyo (one of the largest cities on earth), I was feeling overwhelmed. Within 30 minutes of landing I learned there was no need for those feelings, though. Tokyo is one of the most organized, safest, cleanest, and well laid out cities I have ever visited. As I traveled through Japan for the next five weeks, I learned the people are some of the most beautiful in the world, and that is coming from someone who has seen quite a bit of the world.
This would be the Vietnam I was looking for. No congestion, no traffic stops, just miles of mountain switchbacks. This new chosen path didn’t come without a bit more adventure, too. Over the next five days I didn’t see one Westerner or tourist. None. The village homestays I chose were so far off the beaten path I don’t even think many of the locals had ever seen a Westerner. Communication was strictly between my charades and some Google Translate. The more rice wine I drank at the end of the evening, the less I relied on Google and the more colorful my charades became.
