29 July, 1994
Friday 12th August, 1994
I think this should be called BLACK FRIDAY. We all got on the road at a reasonably early time and set off for Toronto. Twenty miles down the road I went for a slide on my bike for about 20 feet (you could tell by the skid marks left on the road) and then went off the road into a ditch. I was just starting into a corner when the front end slipped and down I went. I was only wearing a T-shirt, it was sunny and everyone seemed to be doing it, and besides we were heading off into the great unknown and you could feel the freedom with the wind blowing through you. You wouldn't do this back in Scotland, you wouldn't even dream about, it's too fucking cold.
So, there I was sliding with the bike heading for a ditch. You might ask why I just didn't let go of the bike but my memory of this starts when I hit the ditch so I guess my mind shut down so it didn't have to deal with my arm being skinned. I remember doing some somersaults with the bike and then landing kinda hard but at least on my own and not under the bike. I got up to see my bike lying crumpled in the ditch. My panniers were lying all over the place, the fairing was smashed up, my left arm was covered in blood, and my T-shirt and jeans were ripped and holed. Great, I thought, fucking GREAT. I ship my bike 3000 miles from Scotland for a trip across the states and 20 miles into it I crash and wreak everything. 
By the time I picked the bike up Dave and Harry had come back to check out what was up. In trying to move the bike one of us backed it up over some broken glass and I got a flat tire. Before I could have moved it but not now. Anyway, a really nice woman stopped and poured disinfectant over my arm. She was followed by a state trooper who, after checking my documents, gave me a ticket. No money but I had to fix the bike and send in the proof to clear the ticket.
Why did I crash? Well, I figure the near bald front tire together with the wet road at the corner didn't help. It had rained the night before but it was all dried up except at this corner due to overhanging trees. I suppose having a lot of weight in the panniers made the back end heavier and the front had less weight to get a good grip. All in all it was one of those experiences you should learn from.
Dave took me back to Harry's house leaving Harry with the cop. It's lucky that Harry's mum is a nurse and was actually at home. That saved me a fortune. She cleaned me up by sponging out all the dirt and stones which was painful, really painful, and then bandaged me up. We went back to the bike and loaded it into the back of Harry's car. Well they did, I watched. We took it to the nearest bike shop, patched the back tire, changed the front tire and charged it all to the credit card. Oh yeah, we all got a free T-shirt courtesy of me spending so much money and probably for looking so pissed off.
Back at Harry's I crashed and those bastards, instead of keeping me company, pissed off to go see Woodstock. For a first day on the road it sucked, it really sucked, but at least it gives me something to write about.
Saturday 13th August, 1994
Got woken up early with Dave and Harry bouncing about the place like two Tiggers from Winnie the Pooh. They were yapping about police, naked mud people, more police and everything else that had taken place at Woodstock. The police: well apparently they got stopped near Woodstock and Harry has the problem of having never passed a motorcycle test either here or back in Scotland. So no license. So what did he do? He put on his best Scottie accent from Star Trek and somehow was let off. He should have been shot just for the accent. The naked mud people: well it was Woodstock, what else do you expect.
The three of us had to get my bike fixed which proved to be frustrating and we were all a bit on edge. We probably were really keen to get on the road and my bike was holding everything up. Dave kept insisting the fairing should be dumped but there was no way I was going to do that. I managed to make it hold together enough to get on the road. The frame for the panniers was also broken so we managed to rig a sort of Meccanno frame. It turned out that this frame lasted all the way to San Francisco where I got a replacement part in the post and fixed it properly.
I think we drank some beers that night.
Sunday 14th August, 1994
We spent the morning finishing the bike and come the afternoon we were off again. This time I wore my leathers. See, I do learn from my mistakes! We left right after a huge thunderstorm and took the same route. Christ was I nervous, especially in the corners. I never really recovered until about half way across the states. 
We got to Hwy. 17 and took that most of the way west. We rode a total of 197 miles and pitched camp when it got dark. Dave went off to get some beer and came back with a 24 pack and crisps. We had that along with some Talisker and just relaxed and felt good. We were really finally on our way.
Monday 15th August, 1994
We woke up to a genuine friendly American welcome. I thought one RV parked close by was way over the top; it was huge for a start but they had all the tables and chairs laid outside, fairy lights decked everywhere and of course a huge American flag flying proudly beside the RV. But, first thing in the morning a guy came over with breakfast for us. We had hot coffee, donuts and toast. Dave missed this since he was, as usual, up at the crack of dawn, but when we found him, with us all ready to gloat, he was eating his own free breakfast from the campsite owner. I could get used to this. 
We set off north heading for Lake Ontario. A couple of hundred miles later we were right on the banks, tents pitched, beer in hand, watching the sun set over the lake. Beautiful, sometimes it's good to be alive, even though my arm ached from the crash and my neck muscles were so tense from being so nervous about crashing again. Still, it's good to be alive which is definitely better than being dead.