r.m.h Legends - The GPGPSPSS

RMH History Lesson - GPGPSPSS:

In which Redbeard Emeritus' original Product Eval is retold

Well, I got me one of them GeneralPurposeGas/Piss/Shit/PoseySniff Scheduler (GPGPSPSS) thingies, so I figured I'd report on how it performed. There are some aftermarket products now on the market with significantly inferior features and thus named simply GPS, but mine was original equipment (albeit quite a number of years ago), with far more features than these; *this* will be the subject of my report.

I actually had occasion to put the GPGPSPSS to use on Friday, when I headed down to the big City to hook up with Darcy Hager of Edmonton fame. Had I but consulted my GPGPSPSS in advance, it would have told me to stay in Tracy that night rather than ride across the state, do an eyeball, come back all the way across to m' humble abode and *then* head back halfway back toward the Pacific to begin m' sojourn south the next morning. But sometimes these things happen, even with a GPGPSPSS at yer disposal. (The report of the most excellent Fri hang will have to await another post at another time, unless someone else beats me to it.)

So Saturday am I roll the bike out of the garage and as I'm movin it to the driveway to pack 'er up, the radio's tuned to a (semi)local oldies station, and it's playin one of the great old CCR tunes. Don't even remember which one, but it put a smile on my face, so I left it playin. It segway'd *directly* into "Born to be Wild," and I just knew this was an omen of great things to come.

So I checked the GPGPSPSS and it cautioned me that I had less gas in the tank than would get me to the next station in Lockeford.... so I bought gas on the way out of town. Headed down 88, a perfectly decent 2-lane, and didn't even see any cops, actually a rare happenstance. As I rolled thru Lockeford, I realized I was facing a momentous decision. I could roll straight ahead toward Stockton, and face the prospect of inadvertantly heading into Lodi. But in every past instance, when I rolled into Lodi, I was able to roll right back out. And not wanting to tempt fate this day...

I checked the GPGPSPSS. It told me to turn south on Jack Tone Road. Which I did. A long monotonous 2-lane down the valley to Modesto. But it did steer me clear of Lodi. At Modesto, with the help of sed GPGPSPSS, I pointed the sled south on 99, in the direction of FuckinBakersfield.

BTW, speakin of FuckinBakersfield, I looked it up in my Atlas. Would you believe it's under the "B"s? I hafta wonder how them GPS thingies would work? Would they find FuckinBakersfield in the "B"s?

At various points I suspected I needed gas/piss/shit (or snack) or whatever...

So I checked the GPGPSPSS. And lo and behold, there was a gas station / truck stop / whatever to accommodate my every need. Well, my objective heading south was to make good time, get into Bakersfield by midafternoon, and veg out for awhile before the night on the town. And that's exactly the way it played out. Shirley enuf, and just as my GPGPSPSS advised, I rolled in midafternoon. Now I needed a place for the night. And I don't like scuzz, I don't like food/lodging chains, and I don't like payin thru the nose for a room.

So I checked the GPGPSPSS. And lo and behold, there was an interesting motel beside the freeway. SportsBar and restaurant adjacent. Very nice pool and hot tub (love them hot tubs.) And several notches above scuzzy. It used to be a Ramada; will soon be a Red Lion. In the meantime, since the room doors need paint and the hallways would benefit from new carpets, the price was the same as the nearby Motel 6, but they had them little shampoo bottles in the bath and the aforementioned hot tub. And did I mention the (included) full hot breakfast? With aid of the GPGPSPSS, I made my way to a most fine dinner, and then somehow, (naaa, not somehow, not miraculously, but rather with the aid of the GPGPSPSS, I found my way to the main purpose for my journey south: the venue for the performance of Banu Gibson and the New Orleans Hot Jazz Band, from the city of their name.

Settled in for a most excellent evening of music. Now by my good fortune, it seems that the most lovely Banu and her band were hangin later that eve at a late evening lounge in town. A town I don't know for shit...

So I checked the GPGPSPSS (and asked the folks selling refreshments at the performance) and found m'self to the lounge. And hung out with the performers of the evening. It even appears that Banu recognized me from previous engagements, groupie that I am. (Either that or she didn't want me to hurt her.) All too soon, the evening was over and I needed to figure out how to get back to the motel.

So I checked the GPGPSPSS. And lo and behold, it was only a mile or so away. A fine night's sleep and hearty breakfast, and I was good to go, after checking the early game and discovering it was over in the first 5 minutes. One less thing to worry about that day. I had to find my way 1/4 mile to the freeway and then north...

So I checked the GPGPSPSS. And lo and behold, there it was. But this was not to be a day on the slab. Less than 5 miles north, with the aid of th' trusty GPGPSPSS, I found a 2-lane to Porterville. And exited the slab and found m' way all the way home on backroads.

Ok, truth be told, both Porterville and Visalia apparently decided that they were impo'tant enuf to have slabs thru their towns. So they put 'em in. (Didn't help IMSFHO.) But aside from that, it was 2-lanes all the way.

The first leg was pretty mundane. In fact, if ya flattened out the tiny rolling hills and removed most of the sagebrush (but kept the oil pumps) you could think -- very briefly -- that you were in W.Tx. But it doesn't go on for 3 days, and it doesn't really really stink.

As I rolled thru Visalia, some dood decided to morph with me. He figured he and I didn't need 2 lanes and he'd see if we could make ourselves smaller. Now, I kinda like things just the way they are, and didn't wanna morph with him, esp if he wasn't gonna improve his driving skills. So I dodged him to the left (as he moved into the left lane), fell around behind him and pulled up on the right (where he had begun. We hit a light and I advised him he was one dumb fuck who outta chose a lane and stick with it and at least look before trying to take out whoever's in the other lane. He sat there with his thumb up his butt, clearly wondering WTF the dood in the next lane is yellin about. North of Visalia, the roads get more interesting (and definitely harder to follow).

So I checked the GPGPSPSS, and took this one west and that one north and then finally the ones that twist around so much you really don't know which way yer headed. Esp. since there was (low) cloud cover, with concomitant chill and lack of direction finder overhead.

Butt, I checked the GPGPSPSS and not only found my way north, skirting Fresno altogether, but rolled up on Sherry's Bar. One more check of the GPGPSPSS and I confirmed yes, indeedie, I should stop.

Grabbed a cold one and caressed the mug to warm up my freezing hands; hung out for awhile to (regretably) watch the Raiders get their collective clocks get cleaned. Also got invited to a Valley HA openhouse in a week or 2. Well, 'twas time to go...

So I checked the GPGPSPSS and pointed the sled toward Oakhurst on Hiway 41. By the time I got there, it was pretty cold, with only an hour or so left of daylight (and several hours to home) and it was actually starting to rain. Uggg! Chill. Cold and wet. So, what's a body to do? Hadda get home.

So I checked the GPGPSPSS. It sed: get a rooom in Oakhurst. I sed: what about lookin after the dog? It sed, have the neighbors do it, like yesterday. I sed, fine, will you call 'em? It said, hell no! So I called the neighbors. And got a room. With an indoor pool and hottub. And restaurant and bar on the premises. At about the rate at a Motel 6. Another mighty fine day, albeit short. Next day came soon enuf (but none too early) and 'twas time to get serious for the last leg home. Couldda turned either way leaving the motel. One way wouldda been straight up 49 (heh, that's funny, for any who know 49) to my street, about 140 miles north. Other way was thru Yosemite. Sounded cold. Magnificantly beautiful. But cold.

So I checked the GPGPSPSS. And when the bike left the motel, it turned onto 49. Needed a breakfast stop. Managed to find one. A most excellent one. Needed several other stops along the way, to cut the chill. Found 'em. (But unfortunately, m' favorite waterin hole along this stretch, in Coulterville, was closed. GPGPSPSS led me astray here -- for all of 200 feet.)

That southern stretch of 49 is absolutely incredible. Especially just south of McClure Lake. The hills got despoiled a few years ago by a fire, but a finer riding road you'll very rarely, if ever, find (if ya overlook the loose sand). Esp. on a winter weekday, with essentiall no traffic at all. And narry a cop.

Stopped in Jamestown, at the National Hotel, and topped up m' fluids and cut the chill. Again in San Andreas, at Black Bart's. Before long (having figured out how to turn a 5 hour trip home on the slab into a 2-day adventure), I was rollin back into Jackson. But wasn't quite ready to turn up m' street.

So I checked the GPGPSPSS. And headed to Mel and Faye's Diner here in town. Yup. Turned out that m' fluids were indeed, again, low. (BTW, there are many riders/bikers for miles around here that swear Mel's has the best hamburgers in the region.) Finally, I couldn't ignore the reality any longer.

So I checked the GPGPSPSS. And would you believe it led me right to m' driveway. Simply amazing. No other word for it.

Now I should advise that there's another word commonly used for these GPGPSPSS contraptions: Nose. And it works most excellently. Maybe in some future generation of their evolution, them GPS thingies might approximate the usefulness of yer nose. But not anytime soon.

--
Redbeard Emeritus "The Dirt Devil, with a built-in Crevice Tool" (c)
#92, th' Jackson 'Hole -- if ya *won't* lick 'em, join 'em; BS28

15 Jan 2001