CHAPTER 10

The Golden Gate Bridge and then Farewell USA


The next day, I found myself on a multilane freeway with a
multitude of traffic moving either side of me, all heading
into San Francisco.  I crossed a toll bridge and was soon
heading towards the harbour.  Then the freeway ended and I
got lost amongst the multitude of crowded streets.  At one
point the bike stalled at the top of the steepest hill I
had ever ridden up and it was with great difficulty that I
held the heavy machine upright while I restarted it.
Eventually, I found my destination, the Golden Gate
Bridge.  I stopped to view the scene.  A coach pulled up
next to me and out got a long stream of oriental couples
who proceeded to photograph each other with the bridge in
the background.  I got talking to the driver who showed
interest in the bike.  He told me that he was running a
tour for Japanese honeymoon couples.  I was amazed and
remembered how attentively the men were in helping their
brides off the coach.  It was incredible, a whole coach of
them smiling at each other and holding hands.  The driver
said that he could speak no Japanese and they no English
but he could entertain them with conjuring tricks which he
felt were understood universally.  The whole situation
seemed very bizarre.  I found San Francisco too crowded
and noisy after my travels in the desert.  I quickly left
the city and rode south to Monterey.  This is a small
fishing town on the cost made famous by John Steinbeck's
novel 'Cannery Row'.  The town became rich through the
catching and canning of sardines between the two world
wars.  Now the sardines have been fished out and there are
only a few canneries left.  The whole area has become a
tourist attraction.  I stayed there the night and then
rode further south towards Los Angeles.

I had left the busy freeway system far behind me and was
travelling along 'Route 1'.  This is a narrow road which
winds its way along the cost.  As I rode, the crystal blue
Pacific Ocean was on my right and the green coastal ranges
were to my left.  The landscape was really quiet beautiful
and very spectacular.  The temperature was much warmer now
but no where near the heights I had experienced when I
first arrived in California almost six weeks ago.  The
surfers were all now wearing wet suits.  I spent the few
days riding leisurely towards Los Angeles.  I spent the
nights in motels at Morro Bay and Santa Barbara; both
holiday towns but very quiet as it was off season.
Finally I stopped at a motel in Anaheim, Los Angeles.
There I gave the bike one good final clean.  The following
day would be my last in America.

I had been booked into a motel opposite Disney Land.  The
only really firm reservation made during the whole trip.
It was here in the evening that I was to meet Lynne Swann
who had rented me the bike.  I arrived at the motel with
plenty of time to check in and then set off to explore
Disney land.  I am afraid I found it disappointing.  But
perhaps such places are more fun in the company of others.
I did like the roller coasters which were very
exhilarating.  But most of the shows seem to entail being
locked up in a room, or on a boat or whatever, while a lot
of mechanical puppets sang jingles at you in Mickey Mouse-
like voices.  Once this started you were trapped until the
whole process was over.  I found it a very cruel torture.

That evening, Lynn turned up and we had a drink together
in the hotel bar while I recounted him my travels.  He
readily reimbursed me the forty dollars that I had paid
for the new battery.  It was with very sad feelings that I
helped him load the bike on the back of his trailer and
said good-bye.  I went back to the bar and listened to a
piano player and girl singer while I talked with a
travelling salesman.  Then, very tired I went off to bed.
The next day I packed my luggage into two cases.  It
seemed strange not to have to load the bike.  Then, after
breakfast, I boarded the bus for the airport.  At four
o'clock that day on 19th November 1982 I flew out of
America on a Jumbo Jet bound for Heathrow.  I had been
away from England for six weeks and had ridden
approximately six thousand miles by motorcycle.  It had
been a fantastic holiday.



Return to Contents Page