NYPD Harley Davidson Road King and Electra Glide Motorcycles by Central Park

 I'm not a huge cruiser fan, nor much of a Harley aficionado, but these police-'hogs' (pardon the pun) looked pretty boss walking down 6th Avenue in Midtown today.  I know the city spent close to $3 million last year on Harley Davidson Road Kings and Electra Glides, and I guess they wanted a strong presence for NYU's graduation ceremony at Radio City Music Hall this morning.

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Return of the ST3 (w/ New ECU) from Ferracci

After several weeks of heartache and fruitless diagnoses,  and another month with my newly purchased ST3 stuck at Fast by Ferracci in Willow Grove, I finally heard back what was causing the issue with my EOBD light.  "Fabio," the service manager from Ferracci, called me the Thursday before my big trip to confirm my worst fear, that the ECU was bad.  I found one on Houston Superbike's eBay page, and called them to confirm that I did in fact need the performance "racing" ECU, because of my carbon cans. 

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Day 6:A Ducati Traveler Returns Home to NYC Wanting More

On a dreary Tuesday, I embarked on my final ride of the trip.  A measly 120 miles lay ahead of me, all freeway, leading back to the metropolis I call home.  I was still riding a high from my stunning feat of endurance the previous day.  

 I took my time, and stopped off in Bethlehem, where an abandoned (and crumbling) old steel mill had been turned into a Casino and shopping outlets. 
The tattered asphalt of I78 going into Newark was kind of an abrupt return to gritty reality.  I was choosing to sacrifice the freedom of the open road and the comradery of the motorcycle community for the predatory consumerism that puts food on my table. 
My adventures were at a close, (my GPS wasn't working for the first couple days), and i finally rolled up to my garage in the East Village in the early afternoon.  Altogether I rode about 1800 miles and I just wanted more... Hopefully, I'll get my ST3 from Ferracci in the next couple weeks and plan a Ducati adventure of my very own... Soon.   

© 2013 Tigh Loughhead

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Day 5: 700 Miles in 10 Hours on My Ducati Monster 600

I woke up this morning around 7ish and checked the weather.  After four days of sunny skies and the temperature hovering in the 60's range, I knew I was spoiled, and of course there were scattered thunderstorms predicted, which would turn bad in the afternoon.  
I had breakfast with the boys one last time, and we decided to part ways early.  I had an amazing time with them, and I was really regretting not taking them up on their open invitation, and running off and going west, as I knew they were in for an epic adventure they would remember for the rest of their lives.
I managed to leave at around 8:15am, rushing a little bit because of the coming rain, and Google Maps told me I had 692 miles to get back to my grandmother's house in PA.  I didn't look back. In fact, I don't think I stopped for more than five or six minutes to fill up for gas or have a breakfast bar for the next 10 hours...  I was Tennessee quickly, and once I hit the Smoky Mountains it started to get really dark, veering through semi trucks and around the mountains.  After Johnson City, it cleared up and I picked up 81 in Kingsport, which I would take for most of the rest of the trip and it suddenly it got dark again began to drizzle. "Shit."  I stopped in Roanoke Virginia to put on my frog suit.
 The skies cleared once again. For the next six hours the weather rotated between hot and humid sunshine to dark, moist gloom. I didn't really intend to drive all the way, but I felt like I was outrunning the storm, and the forecast wasn't too much better tomorrow, so I kept going and going, through Harrisonburg, where I was planning on going to Rocktown Beer Festival that weekend, through Winchester and then onto Martinsburg, West Virginia.

 By the time I had gotten to Hagerstown , Maryland at around 4pm, I wasn't even sore any more. I was numb. I was the bike. I continued to Carlisle and Harrisburg Pennsylvania. When I arrived home around 6:30 (still in rain gear), I wasn't even tired and swear I could have ridden to NYC if there was enough light.


Immediately after pulling up, my brother in law snapped this photo and handed me a cold glass of Nugget Nectar. I took a long shower, and as I sat alone on my Grandmother's glass roofed porch, the sky finally opened up to a violent storm, beginning with a hail leading to a torrential downpour.  I can honestly say that sitting there was one of the happiest moments of my life.  Outrunning a storm half-way across the country, drunk off of a beer and a half, truly clean for the first time in a week, my vision cleared (my peripheral vision was still whirring by at around 70mph), while the throaty melodies of my Monster reverberated rhythmically in my head.  


© 2013 Tigh Loughhead

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Ducati Motorcycle Hiatus in a Pimp Stretch Limo Cadillac Fleetwood

I don't usually talk about cars here, but tonight I'm going to make an exception and digress. Asheville is a cool town.  Our hotel was located a bit west of downtown, so we had to call another cab, which we disputed, as it was a $55 up front bill, not including tip. Between the three of us though, we managed to justify that split between us, this would be the typical cost of a cab ride in NYC. Turns out it was one of the best investments we made the whole trip.

Twenty minutes after reception made the call, a guy rolls up in a blacked out Infinity FX35, and he's blasting Silk's "Freak Me" as loud as he possibly can on the stereo.  He presumes (on his own) that three dudes are cruising for ladies, and proceeds to chauffeur us around the city of Asheville, blasting some of the grimiest R&B (think Boyz II Men, even some Sade...) you could imagine.

Finally, we arrived at Pack's Tavern, where we were starving, and had some great beer and food. We were bushed from the long ride that day, plus I had finally and begrudgingly decided to turn around and go back to my job in NYC, so we planned on an early night.
We called the cab company again, who said our driver was busy, but they would send someone else.  15 minutely later, up rolls a 80's-era Cadillac Fleetwood stretch limo.
To make things more wild, this classic pimpmobile was being driven by a (easily 300lb) black dude named "Roosevelt," also blasting seriously raunchy R&B, this time accompanied by music videos broadcasting on two flatscreen tv's inside the limo.
The upholstery was custom red and white leather, and we kicked ourselves for not heading straight to the club in this whip. 

Diamond in the back,
Sun roof top,
Diggin the scene with a gangsta lean-
woo hoooo-oooo....

 We drove around for a while, chatting with Roosevelt, until he finally dropped us back off at the hotel for the night.


© 2013 Tigh Loughhead

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