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Grand Road Trip of Graeme Lowen

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Excerpts of Travelogue, Riding in the USA

Graeme explores the States as changing roads and places bring new adventures in differing weather, and happy company.

Text and Photos by Graeme Lowen

After last night’s fiasco trying to find camera and getting back to the motel, I did some more work with google and found a Walmart only 10 miles or so away that sells cameras.

The stop at the gas station and its method of pre-pay was quite a novel experience. I was instructed by the young female assistant to put the cash into the machine , as much as I needed, hit enter and out came a receipt for the amount as well as a code number. I went out and filled the bike up and went back to get my change.

Read this wonderful “view” of USA from a tourist’s perspective – only at Bikernet.com

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READ MORE TRAVELOGUES ON BIKERNET.COM — have a look at:
https://www.bikernet.com/pages/travel_stories.aspx

 

100 WFC: Hilary by Gearhead

By General Posts

100 word fiction contest continues…. #100WFC

Hilary
by Gearhead

We rode from Northern Cal. The rain came down in buckets. I pulled off under the redwoods in Big Sur. My wife crawled into the back seat of a car. I threw a sleeping bag on the ground under a leaking makeshift lean-to. It didn’t stop.

The fog threatened like a dense cloud of gray paint, and my wife said, “It won’t stop until late afternoon.” We had to ride. We packed up and pull out in the rain moments before the murkiness engulfed the highway. We fought downpours, the cloud of doom, wrecked cars, 18-wheelers, dead animals and limited vision until we caught the glimmer of Santa Barbara just before nightfall. We slipped the veil of death once more.

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Yup, its a weekly contest open to all. Just sign up for the free weekly newsletter by clicking here.

Then email us your 100 word limit fiction to bandit@bikernet.com

100 WFC: Too Many Dive Bars and Bar Fights

By General Posts

100 word fiction contest continues…. #100WFC

Too Many Dive Bars and Bar Fights
by Bandit

Little Sport threw a scrawny leg over his ‘69 XLCH. He kicked hard, a Tillotson carb set him free from the bullies inside. Fuming he rode through, Sundance, Wyoming, like his leather seat caught fire, to a destitute trailer park. In shambles, he tore the screen door off the hinges scrambling inside for a loaded snub-nosed .38.

His crack-whore wife gone, Sport snatched the pistol, revenge blistering his busted lips.

Everything on the line he headed out when he heard, “Dad!” His small son ran to his side. “Don’t go,” he held tight to his thigh and looked up with terrified crystal blue eyes…

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Yup, its a weekly contest open to all. Just sign up for the free weekly newsletter by clicking here.

Then email us your 100 word limit fiction to the editor wayfarer@bikernet.com