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After subjecting myself to 10 weeks of graduate level classes and academic bureaucracy I had to get away, way far away. The thought of spending a week with Mike Cornett in the pursuit of national park stamps was just the ticket (stamp?). Visiting friends along the way made this thought all that more enticing. So, when Friday rolled around I became a kid at Xmas waiting for morning and the presents. The nice thing about growing up is that you no longer have to wait. I couldn't, wouldn't so I left 8 hours early. This would prove to be a mistake later, but not a biggee.

It is very difficult to get lost between Tampa and Dayton. Put the bike on I-75 and twist the throttle. Construction in Florida is starting to wind down which was a good sign. A short 14 hours later I was pulling into the Cracker Barrel south of Cincinnati where I made an offering to Jon Diaz. I was hoping that the motel would let me in early so that I would be coherent when Mike arrived. With any luck, the Wright Brothers site would be open in Dayton also.

I hit Dayton a little after 8am. Without the directions from Mike, I never would have found the site which is an area of town on the verge of reclamation. If this had been Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday or Friday, the site would have been open. But, heh, it's Saturday and they're sleeping in. Oh well, I wandered over to the motel to plead my case. "Sorry, you can't get in until 1 PM." I should have waited to leave. Back to the site for some waiting and bike polishing. Would you do that if you had a car?

It turns out that the Wright brothers had 6 bicycle shops/printing shops in the area. Last year I was at Kitty Hawk, so the tie-in was neat. One of the most difficult tasks they encountered was shipping the planes, tools, parts between the two sites. They would eventually choose to remain in Dayton for most of their experimentation.

Morning came and I was in serious stamp mode. Mike had about a billion more stamps than I and that must end. How could I close the gap when we were riding together? I'd just have to ride longer. We were at the Indian Mounds in Chillicothe, Ohio when they opened. I've been here before and is the nicest collection of burial mounds I know of. These mounds are about 2,000 years old.

Onward to West Virginia. If you happened to be a driving instructor, you are desperately needed in West VA. Is there a connection between inbreeding and driving ability. "My wife is not only my sister, but she's my driving instructor and I love her. Yup."

We followed a horse trailer that caused me to laugh so hard that I almost fell off the bike. The driver had left a window in the trailer open. The horse was doing his best dog imitation by hanging it's head out the window. Whenever the horse did this, it got a view of these two motorcyclists chasing him. His eyeballs almost popped out of his head and he ducked back into the trailer. Horse memory must be rather short as this process was repeated about 1 minute later and several times while we were following.

Onward to New Geneva, Pa. and the Friendship Hill site. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why this was a National Historic Site. Albert Gallatin, owner of the home, was the Secretary of the Treasury under two administrations, but didn't really distinguish himself in a way that would earn him a national park. There is a neat holographic presentation in the visitor's center.

We found it necessary to move on to Fort Necessity (ugh). This is where the opening battle of the French and Indian War took place and marks the site of George Washington's only defeat.

Mike was ready to head to his friend's house and I saw my first opportunity. The Johnstown Flood Site and Allegheny Portage Railroad Site was just up the road about 100 miles. I could do this and then I wouldn't have to come to this part of PA ever again as long as I live. No, I'm not fond of PA. Maybe once they discover how to build roads, my feelings will change. We won't talk about the speed limits on back roads.

Close by is the Railroad Site and the location of Horseshoe Curve where the railroad bends back upon itself. The visitor's center is first class and contains a full size locomotive within the building. Well, I better go find Mike.

Breakfast could only be described as a bit of heaven. Mike mentioned that his friends love to entertain, and it showed. With a full gas tank and full belly (no small feat) we set off for the worst that Pennsylvania has to offer. My dictionary defines "hell" as:
1. The underworld abode of the dead
2. The abode of the devil and souls condemned to eternal punishment
3. Any road between Upperville, VA and the Hopewell Furnace Site in Elverson, PA

Whatever sins I had committed in my life, I was now paying penance. At any given moment we were accelerating to the next light or decelerating because the light had just changed. Picture the roads by your local strip malls/Walmart and multiply that for 100 miles. Life may be good, but it wasn't here. After all, my soul was condemned to eternal punishment. Even hell has it's irony and that came in the form of police running radar in this mess.

Hopewell Furnace is exactly what it sounds like. They produced cast iron products here around 1800. In my opinion, the Saugus Iron Works in MA are much more interesting and well worth the trip. Since the morning had conspired to delay our progress I decided to hit Philly and the stamps therein. Mike set off for Valley Forge (I had already been there last year). I screamed into Philly, thankful to be on some interstates for a change.

My first stop was the Ben Franklin Memorial inside the Science Museum of the same name. Motorcycles make finding parking a breeze and it took just two trips around this downtown block to find a spot. After hunting stamps for awhile, you develop a 6th sense. It is somewhat akin to the sense a lioness has for locating game. There was a stamp here. I could smell it. The lady at the information desk doesn't have the stamp sense. She said, "I've worked here for 17 years and haven't seen a national park stamp." Well, I wasn't leaving until: they found one, they made one, they dragged me out. The director of the museum had to come down and show the clerk where the stamp was. "Oh, that's it?" She obviously thought this was a big nightclub and that was used to obtain re-entry. That would explain the black light.

With an excellent map of Philly, compliments of AAA, I rode a few blocks to the Edgar Allen Poe site. The only Ravens were in nearby Baltimore. Edgar, as his close friends used to call him, lived in this house for a little less than two years. It is a fairly plain building and not the gothic monstrosity that one expects Poe to live in.

Independence Hall was just around the corner and I parked across from the Liberty Bell with a view of Independence Hall. Without a doubt, this is the best restoration job I've seen at any of the sites I've been to. The hall looks as if it was built yesterday. Park Rangers are walking throughout the park and easily pointed me to the stamp.

Thaddeus Kosciuszko was a Polish born hero of the American Revolution. How many people from this country contributed greatly to the formation of our own. If you live in a major city, such as Chicago, you could probably think of at least one other. His site also contains the stamp for the Gloria Dei Church which is the second oldest Swedish Church in the US. Tours are given only by advance appointment, so I drove by and hit I-95 for NYC.

Pennsylvania wasn't going to let me leave easily. I almost immediately hit a 2 mile traffic jam. With the heat, the RID display was showing 9 bars! The source of the jam was 3 guys spreading seam sealer. Hey, keep up the good work.

How many times have you heard this. "Thank heaven for New Jersey." These folks know how to drive. The 55 mph speed limit on the turnpike was a joke. The road is well designed and I was happy to pay the toll. Before I knew it I hit the Verrazano Narrows Bridge and working my way up I-278. As far as I'm concerned, this route provides the best views of the city. For years I avoided NYC like the plague, but now I LOVE IT. No, I wouldn't live there, but I'll visit it often. Traffic was at a standstill on the Long Island Expressway. Motorcyclists in this part of the country are absolutely fearless and lane split at a moments notice. Hey, when in Rome...... Uh, maybe I shouldn't have a full dressed touring bike when I do this, but it worked.

Long Island surprised me. Once you get off the main drags, you are in some of the most quaint and beautiful communities I can ever recall. I soon was reminded that Mike Cornett has some of the most fascinating friends I've ever met. Without giving names, the husband was the one who handed Nixon his resignation papers and the wife is the anchor person for a NYC TV station. Mike was her professor in Chicago. Mike's a pretty fascinating guy himself. It was funny to watch this lady on TV and see her walk in the door not 30 minutes later. They were gracious and entertaining hosts. I'm always amazed at the people who will invite a total stranger into there house and I'm about as totally strange as they come. I slept the sleep of someone who was no longer in Pennsylvania.

Life on Long Island could be good, depending on how much money you bring with you. Nothing broke the silence of the morning, including the starter on my bike. Yep, it was dead. What gives here? I must have left something on, but I never do that. BMW has conspired to make the battery on the RTs almost totally inaccessible. Some bending of body parts and a jump from the caretakers got the bike rolling. We were off to the Sagamore Hill NHS.

So, let's talk. Many people wonder what the fascination is with stamp hunting. When you were young and your father piled everyone in the family station wagon for the long trip to the Grand Canyon, the destination was the thing. "Are we there yet?" On a motorcycle, the ride is the thing. "We're there already?" Getting a stamp is a destination, but the ride is why we do it. This morning, we rode by, perhaps, the most picturesque harbors on the eastern seaboard. Hallmark could make a buck in this area.

Sagamore Hills is the former home of President Theodore Roosevelt and contains 23 rooms. I didn't want to shut off the bike while Mike ran inside. Our next stop was the Fire Island National Seashore.

Time for the beast. I could tell that Mike wasn't really interested, but he was humoring me. Have I told you what a good friend he is? Getting into Manhattan wasn't a problem, but where the Battery Tunnel dumped us out was. A correct turn (remarkable) and some sweet talking got us free parking by Castle Clinton. We would later find out that we were 50 feet from a motorcycle only parking area. To Mike's dismay, they didn't have the Statue of Liberty/Ellis Island stamp anywhere but at those two sites. I'll be able to lord those over him for a few more months. :-)

We walked over to Wall Street and got the Federal Hall stamp. Never having been on Manhattan, I was in heaven. It's nothing like I was led to believe. People were friendly and traffic wasn't that bad. Heck, you could eat from a vendor for under $2 and have a full, if not ptomaine laced meal. We headed up the shoreline and discovered that the Teddy Roosevelt site was closed on Tuesday! ARGH@! Oh well, let's go find out who's buried in Grant's Tomb instead.

On the way along the shoreline, the road makes a sharp curve to the right. Just where this happens, an aircraft carrier is parked with a full load of aircraft. You get the illusion that the ship is on land and it's quite a site. With the Grant's stamp in hand we headed to Mass. Some lane splitting was again called for.

I made a stop in Conn. at the Weir Farm for a stamp I didn't know about and missed last summer. It's the only stamp in Connecticut. Weir Farm is now an artist colony on the site of the impressionist painter. It's a tough one to find and the directions in the Fodor's Guide are wrong. As the sun was going down, I met Mike at the not-so-Super 8 just outside of Rhode Island. Tomorrow, the rest of New England was mine!

It was going to be a tight day. My friends don't understand why I push so hard to clear out on area. They say, "You'll be back." I'm not so sure and would rather subscribe to the Aerostich philosophy, "So many roads, so little time." Besides, it's not like New England is right around the corner from Florida. With this in mind, I got out of Attleboro early. It seemed like old times with Mike snoring away and me hopping on the bike. If the early bird catches the worm, why is he so far ahead of me. All I've got is a mouthful of dead worm.

I wanted to be on Cape Cod by 8am. The park wasn't scheduled to open until 9, but you never know. The weather was beautiful and I'd rather be riding when the sun comes up than just about anything else. Traffic was light as I slabbed across the state. It was beginning to dawn on me, which makes sense, being dawn and all, that New England doesn't have any billboards. At least there's not many. What an enlightened idea this is. After living in billboard hell for the last 9 years it sure was nice to see the scenery and not where the next McDonalds was.

There are tough stamps and easy stamps. The one's along the coast qualify as tough stamps for me. They aren't easy to get to and usually involve a lot of tourist traffic on two lane roads. I had just got a hard stamp in the easiest way possible. As I was leaving I talked to a ranger who was a former prosecutor in Cleveland. It turns out that he lived about 2 miles from where I did in Chatham (Medina). A lot of retirees are working for the park system, which is fortunate because our parks really need them.

The next stop was in Newport, RI and I immediately fell in love with this city. I didn't want to leave and fantasized about moving here. Then I thought about winter and reality raised it's logical head. As god as my witness, I will never shovel snow again. At the Touro Synagogue I got the next stamp. It's an unassuming building that represents the oldest synagogue in the US. Time to head to Boston.

I had this all planned out. Boston would be as easy as Philly or Manhattan and I'd be out in a hurry. HA! Again I say HA! My exit came up, I got off and the first sign I saw was DETOUR. They're joking, aren't they. Yes, we've all heard the horror stories of the one way streets in Boston, but this must be like child birth. You don't know what's it's like until you experience it. Thanks to poor planning, I arrived just before noon, lunch hour. I hesitate to tell you how many laws I broke trying to find my way around. Taxi and busses only, I think not. No parking, pllllleeeeeaaaassssee. Don't hit any pedestrians, well, I guess even I have my limits. Riding by some construction I saw the familiar National Park sign out of the corner of my eye. It's amazing how nicely a fully loaded touring bike drives down a sidewalk. Around the corner, the sidewalk made for a nice parking spot. This was the main site in Boston (Boston National Historical Park) and contained info about the location of Paul Revere's House, etc. There is only one stamp here though.

Getting to the African American Site would have been easier if it had been in the Congo. I knew where it was, after wandering around I could almost see the street. The one way stuff was killing me. One way streets in the rest of the world remain one way for their entire length. In Boston they change direction whenever they feel like it. I could see the street I needed, but the street I was on changed directions. After, literally, 1/2 hour of wandering I got to the street I needed and it was closed due to construction. Well, it was closed for cars, trucks, busses. The bike fit around the barricades very nicely, thank you. The site represents a break with the white churchs in the area and became the center of the African-American community in the area. I needed to make some time.

I headed to the Cambridge area for Frederick Law Olmsted, the designer of Central Park and the Capitol grounds. Next, I stopped at John F. Kennedy and headed to the Longfellow House. I was in the middle of Harvard and could feel the brain power of these kids. Being a teacher at a fairly upscale high school, I'm amazed at how few of our kids are accepted by Harvard. We've got some pretty bright individuals. Longfellow's house is well hidden. There is only a small sign on the front and no directions in the area. I had several people tell me it was right around the corner and still missed it. "One way streets to the left of me, one way streets to the right, the boxer did shudder."

I was finally getting out of town and heading to the Minute Man Site. The visitor's center right off I-95 was closed for construction (this is a joke, right?) and the other center was 6 miles away in Concord. Directions would have been nice. Signs would have been nice. Time was getting tight and I still had two stamps to get. I guess I'm not going to make it to Bill Shaw's place for dinner.

The Lowell Connector had an awful backup. Is lane splitting allowed in New England? Probably not, but stamps is stamps. I enjoyed this site in that it's contained in old, restored factory buildings. There is a great deal of information about cotton processing and industrial technology. Time for Springfield.

It looked as if I would hit Springfield just before closing if I wicked it up. I enjoyed the rural nature of the ride through central Mass and arrived 15 minutes before closing, ala Larry Fears. But what is time anyway. Apparently 4:45 means a different thing to me than to the rangers. THE PLACE WAS CLOSED. The 'hours of operation' sign was mocking me. I would later call the site and have them mail me a stamp since I was there during normal operation hours.

Time to hit the Big Apple and head on to Larry Fear's pad in DC. The RT was acting up. Both the clutch switch and the neutral switch went bad at the same time. With some fiddling of the shift lever, I could get it started, but this could be very, very bad. At a service plaza in NJ I almost couldn't get it started. I'd have to go to Bob's tomorrow and toss the stamp hunting for the day. After a few wrong turns and an escort by the local police I finally arrived at Larry's and was grateful to be hitting the hay.

Today, Mike was hitting Washington like Sherman hit Atlanta and I was wasting the morning at Bob's. This does not bode well for catching up. Twins sometimes have a connection that allows them to sense each others feelings. I have that sense with Mike. I could feel every time a National Park Stamp hit his passport. He was the vodoo witch doctor and I was his pin cushion. The only thing I had going for me was the fact that Larry and I would be doing the same thing on Saturday. Larry would prove to be the stamp master the next two days.

The folks at Bob's were great and I enjoyed putting the faces with the names I hear on the telephone. I was surprised that Ted wasn't older. Bob even came out on several occasions and made sure I was comfortable. This is a neat place.

As I thought, both my clutch switch and neutral switch were out. They replaced the clutch switch, but the neutral switch replacement involves pulling the swingarm! Good planning AG. That would have to wait. Within two hours I was back on the road and heading to southern VA, or so I thought.

I expected to get two stamps in Richmond, the Battlefield and Maggie Walker. It turns out that the battlefield has three distinct stamps at the different visitor centers. So, after the main visitor's center I went to the Walker site. She was the first woman, African American Bank President. This is a noble achievement, but like Friendship Hill, I don't know that it rates a national park site.

The ride to the other two Richmond Battlefield sites, Fort Harrison and Cold Harbor was just what I needed. On a warm day, riding through the pines was invigorating. I had planned on running down to the Red Hill stamp today, but the extra sites in Richmond prevented this. That was ok.

After Richmond I headed to Fredricksburg and the Jackson Shrine. This stamp would kill Mike. The park just got the stamp 1 week ago. This park commemorates the site where Jackson was killed. The Boy Scouts were having a jamboree in the area and were having a National Park contest. If they got ten stamps while they were in the area, they were awarded a pin. I whined, begged, pleaded, threatened, offered money, but they wouldn't give me a pin. Hey, I've got over 150 stamps, doesn't that count for something? I'll bet none of these guys has one from the Mojave Desert. It was worth a shot. One more stamp in Fredricksburg and I headed to Larry's. One hour and 20 minutes and 95 miles later I pulled into his parking lot.

Mike was already there and Larry treated us to a fabulous dinner. Man, this guy is some host. Mike got 30 stamps in DC and stretched his lead to about 3 trillion more stamps than I have. He is the master and I bow to his greatness. Just let me learn from you, oh sensei. Tomorrow, Larry promised us a ride we wouldn't forget.

Three quarters of the Reindeer Riders were back together with one notable exception. Jon Diaz was nowhere to be found which explained the sunny skies. Larry is fully hooked on this stamp thing. Last winter he couldn't understand my one-track mind when it came to stamp hunting. We were fortunate to have him leading us. Mike and I would have farted around and missed several stamps along the way. Larry kept reminding us that, "Fort McHenry isn't coming to us." With that rallying call, we headed to Washington's birthplace.

There aren't too many sites that rival the beauty of this place. Through the windows of the visitor's center, the Potomac loomed large. We got there early, which is the only time to be there. It was peaceful and serene as this site demanded. The ranger was more than willing to give us a stamp early and we were off for number two.

I couldn't resist breaking the ton on a very straight backroad. Across the river we visited the Thomas Stone House. He was one of the original signers of the Declaration of Independence. Then onward toward Fort McHenry, which wasn't coming to us.

So, you should be getting the impression that we were blowing in and blowing out of these places. We arrived in Baltimore at Fort McHenry. Francis Scott Key penned "The Star-Spangled Banner" here after being inspired by a large flag raised over the fort during the heat of battle. It was time for lunch and the first credo of the Reindeer Riders is that "Eating is everything." We found a little restaurant around the corner from the fort and near the inner harbor that was fantastic and reasonably priced. Have Larry take you there if you are in the area.

Yes, I know, Hampton isn't coming to us. Not meaning to offend anyone living there, and maybe I was seeing the bad part of the city the last couple of days, but Baltimore does not thrill me. It is an industrial town (and they did steal the Browns, after all.) I could not develop any good feelings for this town. Yes, we rode through the inner harbor area, but I wasn't impressed.

Arriving at the Hampton's, the last week was starting to creep up on me. After only getting, at most, 6 hours of sleep a night and the long miles, I was content to lie down in the grass and let the world go by. I even left my helmet in the house hoping to delay our departure. The Hampton is one of the largest and most ornate Georgian mansions built after the Revolutionary War. This place is big! Back in the saddle with two stops to go.

Monocacy Battlefield was the site of a loss by the Union troops. The loss, however, gave the troops in D.C. enough time to mount a defense of the city. Larry is a history buff and I'm not. My tastes lean more toward the natural beauty of an area and it's topography. Whenever Larry would try to tell me something about the history of the battle, I would counter with "Yeah, that's nice, but where's the next stamp." Whenever I would mention the scenic beauty, Larry would think along the lines of, "It would be a great place for a condo." Our tastes sure are opposite and it's remarkable that we are such good friends. I think of Larry as my brother (you know, the one that was locked down in the basement until he was 19). :-)

This part of the country amazes me. Within 30 minutes, you could be in four different states. We picked up our complimentary $5.00 Blue Blockers from a local stand, which happened to be run by a woman who lived 30 miles from me in Florida, and headed to West Virginia. Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

Larry led us down some uncharted backroads. This was the first miscue of the day. We saw some great scenery and I was glad to see that Larry could make a mistake in navigation. He was just too perfect up to this point. For the whole day I misread the bumper sticker on Larry's bike, "I brake for corn," and almost put my cheeks into his. A few minutes later we were at Carol's.

Mike was heading back to Upperville for the evening and I was sad to see him go so soon. Larry and I headed back to his pad for the evening. We were going to take DC tomorrow with only one rule, "Get at least one more stamp than Mike did." :-)

Well, today was a blur. Larry had everything planned out to a tee and we hopped from one stamp to another. Since I've been in DC many times before, it did not hurt my feelings that I was blasting from one memorial to another without stopping. A few of the stamps I got that day are:

Chesapeake & Ohio Canal
Constitution Gardens
Constitution Gardens (different site)
Ford's Theater
Ford's Theater NHS
Franklin Delano Roosevelt
Frederick Douglass
George Washington Memorial Parkway
Jefferson Memorial
Kenilworth Aquatic Gardens
Korean War Veterans
Lincoln Memorial
Lyndon B. Johnson
National Capital Parks-Central
National Capital Region
National Mall
Old Post Office
Old Stone House
Pennsylvania Ave.
Pennsylvania Avenue National Historic Park
Petersen House
Pierce Mill-Rock Creek Park
Potomac Heritage
President's Park-White House
Rock Creek Park
Theodore Roosevelt Island
Vietnam Veterans Memorial
Washington Monument

All in all, and after the final count, we bagged 41 stamps and one parking ticket that day. I still can't figure out how I got the ticket and Larry didn't. We were parked in the same spot. I guess it all goes to supporting the mayor's crack habit. The day ended at Larry's pad with me watching the Bucs preseason game.

The next morning, I got an early start for the long drive to Florida. There were several stamps along the way, but I was in no mood for more stamp hunting. Yes, it is me that said that. I did stop at the Petersberg National Battlefield to bag that stamp, but didn't feel like running over to the other visitor's center to see if they had a different stamp. Staring at a 1,000 mile trip will do that to you.

Thanks to Larry Fears for his kind hospitality and directions on a stamp hunting day I'll never forget, but am having a difficult time remembering. :-)