have cash for REDAMAK'S

We'd heard that if we were going to ride our cycles up the east coast of Lake Michigan we had to stop and eat at Redamak's. We were told that there is always a line out the door at Redamak's. We were told that Redamak's has had the best burgers around since the thirties or so. Okay, sounds like we have to go to Redamak's.

The sign says it all. "The Hamburger that made New Buffalo, Michigan famous. Bite into a legend." I'll bite into a legend anytime even though I'd never heard of New Buffalo and so if New Buffalo's fame was proportionate to the tastiness of Redamak's burgers I wasn't too optimistic.

We got there at about 9:00 pm. So there was no line. There was a very nice waitress, who referred us to a crummy motel which she thought would be good because it was "American owned." Our waitress also cruised by our table 15 minutes after we had ordered and started on our drinks, and informed us that they only accepted cash... not credit cards at Redamak's. Redamak's took a big bite out of our ready cash. Who would have thought that Michigan would be so addicted to cash? I figure it must be so they can run down to the casino right after work.

It was a good burger. It was a great burger. It was a legendary burger. Not however better than Culver's in Plainfield, IN or Krekel's in Decatur, IL but it was legendary.

This place was old, I kid you not. The scary kid on the sign is Chuckie's great grandfather. The restaurant was so old I'm sure it was deposited there in New Buffalo during the ice age. They began by selling wooly mammoth burgers, graduated to buffalo burgers, (they still sell a buffalo burger) and then added beef when cows were domesticated in North America.

Just a fact for the fact collectors, buffalo is really big in Michigan. Also Krekels in Decatur now has bacon if you want to add that to your burger. And finally, I have no idea why there are three photos of the same thing in this post.

crummy motels

On our motorcycle bro ride, it was my goal to stay at crummy motels just for the experience. Crummy motels are pretty neat because you can do whatever you want to do. When a group of us ministers were getting our Masters at KCC we stayed in a crummy motel where total chaos and anarchy were the norm. I promise you it was an accident but...we once set fire to the carpeting in someone's room with fireworks. At that very moment the motel manager walked by and he just laughed. I kid you not.

My brother and I stayed at the Buffalo Motel in New Buffalo, Michigan. There was one motel that looked worse...Judy's Motel, but when we passed by we were not ready to turn in.
The Buffalo Motel was hilarious. When I punched the button to turn the air conditioning on it made a sound like sand sifting through one of those rain sticks you find at Discovery stores. Then it began to sound like a dog scratching itself. I got in the shower and turned on the water and realized that there was no soap or shampoo in the bathroom. I went and got some in the sleeping area and when I got back to the shower and lathered up I realized there was no soap dish in the shower. The security system was a cable screwed into the wall that you wrapped around the door knob when you turned in for the night. The TV got one or two channels and they were all fuzzy. Notice in the picture above where the fire extinguisher is. I guess that's in case your car catches fire. I will say the sheets were clean and the pillows were best of the trip. After I pryed on the air conditioner buttons for awhile, it actually started working. In fact it sounded like a chain gang working right inside our room. One good thing, I parked my motorcycle under the porch just in case of rain and I think I could have parked it in the room if I'd wanted to. The amazing thing is that we were referred to this motel by a waitress at a local restaurant as the best one in town.
I loved the scenery in Michigan but next time I'll take more cash. We stopped at one place for breakfast but didn't stay because they didn't take credit cards, and the one place in town with an ATM didn't open for an hour. Also they didn't have a public restroom.
Okay, I got my crummy motel fix. It was a piece of Americana, it was quaint, it was a lot of laughs. Next stop, Country Inn.

Oh Brother, Where Art Thou Part III

This is Tim with his ...da motorcycle. Notice my hand on the handlebar of my motorcycle. That is not the affectionate touch of a man with his machine. That is me with my hand on the throttle, I'm revving the motor so it won't die. This is in South Haven. Sometime I'd like to go back when we weren't running from a rainstorm that kept catching up with us every time we stopped. This town looks like a beautiful little relaxing vacation spot with the beach, Lake Michigan, the little lighthouse, quaint downtown area and off the beaten path.

This is my brother with his ....ey motorcycle. Notice how he can park his motorcycle and walk away from it and not worry about it starting again. Notice how big he is smiling. He has a ....ey.

O Brother, Where Art Thou? Part II

Two brothers set out on an inland sea motorcycle chautaqua. One motorcyle wasn't up to the 650 mile trip. The name of the motorcycle brand that MADE IT ends with ....ey. The name of the motorcycle brand that DIDN'T MAKE IT ends with ...da.

How to start a broken down motorcycle along the side of the road when gasoline is the enemy. Yes, even though gasoline is necessary to get the motorcycle started and running there are those occasions when due to a malfunction a monstrous supply of gasoline is being poured into the carburators which creates flooding of the spark plugs. What do you do? Read on, especially if you are non-mechanical like me.

Turn the gasoline switch to the "OFF" position. Motorcycles have this...cars don't.
Remove the breather lid and air filter to allow excessive gasoline to evaporate.
Remove the spark plug wires.
Remove the spark plugs using the one tool that you brought along, your spark plug wrench.
Clean the spark plugs with the complimentary Country Inn paper towlette.
Burn the gasoline off the spark plugs using a cigarette lighter. Now they're dry.
You don't smoke and you wouldn't have a cigarette lighter except the 90 year old, limping, white haired, black oracle told you that he had an idea about how to get your motorcycle started.
Clean the spark plugs again, this time using the Colts souvenir towel you got at the RCA Dome.
Turn the kill switch to the "OFF" position. This insures no spark (that is important unless you want your motorcycle to turn into a flame thrower.)
Turn the key "ON."
Push the starter button and hold the throttle wide open.
Watch the holes where the spark plugs used to be and wait until there is no more gasoline squirting out. (Aren't you glad you put the kill switch on OFF to insure no spark?)
Now you know there is no gasoline lurking inside the motor waiting to flood out your spark plugs.
Put the plugs back in and reattach the spark plug wires.
Turn the kill switch to the "RUN" position.
Put your helmet on.
Put the air filter back in.
Make sure that you are ready to roll.
Turn the key to the "ON" position.
Make sure you're in neutral.
Remember that you still have the gas turned "OFF."
Press the starter button and roll back the throttle.
When the ...da starts, and you pray it does, put it in gear and head for home.
There is enough gas in the gas line and fuel pump to keep you going for a few blocks or more.
When the ...da starts to sputter and run out of gas, turn on the gas switch.
Every time you come to a stop sign, stop light, construction site or Michigan blueberry picker crossing, turn off your gas, then turn it back on later, then off, then on, etc. etc. etc.
Don't stop for anything...for seven hours.
Your brother will catch up if you go through on the pink and he hits red. After all he has a good motorcycle, he has a ....ey.

When we got separated at a red light, and I took the wrong road because I was looking down at my gas switch, how did my brother know where I was and catch up to me? It must have been the bond of the common womb.

Note: My brother had a cigarette lighter which we used but after we spoke to the white haired oracle I bought one too just in case I needed it later. I did need it later.

Another Note: You may have to repeat this process numerous times because your motorcycle will try to die at every stop sign, stop light, and traffic slowdown.

Happy Trails

tribute to a brother

TWH and TJH went on a 650 mile Michigan motorcycle chautaqua. On this trip my motorcycle completely wimped out in a "by the side of the road" "pushing it out of traffic" "hundreds of dollars spent at a repair shop" kind of wimping out and that's not even telling half the story. The rest of the story will come in future posts such as T's Wild Ride, starting a stubborn motorcycle, rundown motels and more.

My brother was amazing.
He helped
He didn't laugh at my motorcycle (at least not out loud)
He didn't complain
He didn't criticize
He cheereed me up
He bought me a cool Harley T'shirt
He brought me a good book that I read the day I sat on a motel front porch waiting for word on my motorcyle.
He loaned me his lighter.
He put the lighter flame on my spark plugs to dry off the gasoline
He let me ride on the back of his Harley
He rode through the rain and didn't complain when I didn't see our motel
He was a brother and a friend
He somehow knew which road I would take when we got separated in Michigan
He didn't snore
He sat on the curb with me while I wondered how many more times my motorcycle was going to break down

When you share the same family with someone
and then you grow up and have separate lives
and rarely get to see each other
It's wonderful to discover again how cool your brother is

little Z at Taco Bell

I'm amazed at what major fast food restaurant chains serve children. Fat, sugar, starch, junk. I realize that the chains feed that to adults but adults are of course...adults... and they can eat what they like. But children ought to have something halfway healthy until they are old enough to choose to clog their arteries and rot their teeth.

I'll get back to the nutrition of it all later but consider this. Recently little Z and his parents and little sister came for a visit. It was getting late when they arrived so we opted to make a run for the Border. We walked in and I began to think, "What does a not-quite-two-year-old eat at Taco Bell? Tacos are way too messy, Nachos would be worse." Let's face it, adults have a hard enough time keeping all the taco ingredients in the shell long enough to eat, but when you're not quite two years old your hand/wrist/mouth dexterity doesn't allow you to eat a taco, just wear one. I asked the person behind the counter, "What do little kids eat at Taco Bell?" The "Children's Menu." Guess what's on the Children's Menu; Tacos.

Yes, little Z got the cheese, lettuce, tomatoes and hamburger all over the place--down the front of his shirt, on his bib, on his shorts, under his chair... yes he ended up wearing the taco, sitting on the taco, stepping in the taco... Taco Bell needs to come up with a little kid menu that is a little friendlier to little kids. When you go to Culver's you can at least give your little one a burger on a bun that you can tear up into bite size chunks. If you go to McD's you can get nuggets.

The other thing they give your kid at Taco Bell is cinnamon twists, basically styrofoam covered with sugar and cinnamon. They give you a lot of them, I guess so that when your kid's taco falls apart and is scattered everywhere the little guy can pick up something that stays together and makes the kid sticky and hyper.

Come on, give them a Mexican chicken peg leg, a stickerless cactus nugget, roasted rattlesnake on a stick... something they can hold in their hand and get to their mouth.