When Scott and Janet Turner pull over at a rest stop and climb off their 2000 Honda Goldwing
motorcycle, they're surprised by the looks and remarks they get.
"We meet new people all the time,"
Scott says, "from fellow travelers to local couples, to restaurant owners and more. And the typical response? "
'You're doing that? More power to you!' "
Their ages may have something to do with it, though that
hasn't stopped Scott, 69, and Janet, 80, from crossing the country on their Honda four times in the last decade.
Along
the way, they've been guests of honor at a motorcycle rally in Oregon, encountered lava flows and snowcapped mountains,
and reconnected with a cousin after 43 years. They've ridden through hail, sleet, and snow, and narrowly avoided a tornado.
They've been buffeted by blinding wind and sand and nearly knocked off their bike, thanks to crosswinds from passing trucks.
But
they keep riding, all the way to the shores of the Pacific and back, taking up to two months to cover up to 11,000 miles,
at an average cost of $6,000. Scott always steers; Janet sits behind him.
They've seen the Rockies, the Cascades,
and Yellowstone National Park. They've driven through the fruit orchards and expansive valleys of California, and passed
snowy Mount Hood in northern Oregon. Pressed to name their most memorable sight, they single out the cliffs of Glacier Point,
in Yosemite National Park, adding that choosing from all the natural beauty they've come across is a difficult task.
Though
they've also made the trip by car, and Scott, now retired, often crossed the country by plane for his work as an inventor,
the couple insist that nothing compares to the open road.
"Having the time and the freedom is like a magical experience,"
Scott says.
The couple, who divide their time between homes in Mount Airy and Palmerton, in the Poconos, took only 6
1/2 weeks for their most recent trip, in the fall. They started on Route 80 through Pennsylvania.
"It was scenic,"
Scott says, "but there were too many trucks and too fast a pace to really enjoy the beauty of the state."
Typically,
the couple take a "northern route" on their way out, traveling through Ohio, Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, North
Dakota, South Dakota, Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, and Oregon, until turning around in California. On their way home, they're
more likely to follow a "southern route," to take advantage of warmer weather.
But their favorite route is
still their first, in 2000, which led them from Flourtown to the ghost town of Centralia. After that, a series of small roads
in the northwest corner of the state took them to Kane (the black cherry capital of the world), past Conneaut Lake, and into
Ohio and points west.
"This route was, for the most part, all little back roads," Scott says.
That trip
covered 11,000 miles round-trip, while the fall trip was slightly more than 9,500 miles. Riding an average of 300 miles a
day, with one town or destination in mind, the couple say "it's far more enjoyable to go slow." Their average
speed is 40 m.p.h. on back roads, revving up to 65 m.p.h. on highways.
Scott started riding motorcycles at age 14, yet
a cross-country trip always seemed more of a dream than reality, he says. It wasn't until 2000, on an otherwise-ordinary
vacation to Utah, that Scott and Janet met a couple making the trip they never thought possible.
"I said to myself,
'That looks like fun,' " Scott recalls. "And Janet said, 'Well, I'll come along for the ride.'
"
Janet says she has never regretted those words, even on the bumpiest rides and roughest days.
In a motel
in Iowa, for example, they were startled to hear sirens blaring through their room. The owner directed them to the basement,
for good reason: A tornado was headed straight for them. But the twister narrowly missed them, and they were back on the road
the next morning.
Whenever they've had mechanical trouble, such as when the cycle's cruise control gave out,
"we were always treated with respect and offered help," Janet says.
Planning their most recent trip was different
from their previous ones. "We were thinking that this might be our last trip," Scott says, "so we wanted to
see the things we hadn't seen before."
That ride took them to Yosemite National Park and through the mountains
of California, where they caught a glimpse of both the highest point in the contiguous 48 states (Mount Whitney, 14,496 feet)
and the lowest (in Death Valley, 282 feet below sea level). While they didn't make it all the way up Mount Whitney, they
have made it up 12,000 feet in Utah's Capitol Reef National Park.
Though they've taken a portable GPS system
with them, they say they've never used it, instead simply "following our noses and the weather." They do use
an iPhone to keep up with the weather and an intercom to talk to each other on the cycle.
They've developed a system
of traveling, insisting on the value of a good AAA map, which marks the towns that have motels. Most of the time, they manage
to find a place to stay without planning, and they always try to be off the road by 5 p.m., so they can be back on their cycle
by 9 the next morning.
And though they've found relatives to stay with, Scott says they try to avoid promising arrival
dates to friends or family; the trip, like the landscape, is just too unpredictable.
"We've become gurus of
this kind of thing," Scott says. Family, friends, even strangers on the road will ask for advice, and the couple are
happy to pass along tips.
As for food, they store breakfast in a cooler on the back of the Goldwing. They refrain from
eating while they ride, preferring to take brief snack breaks. For dinner, they go to restaurants and diners.
What's
next for the cycling couple?
They haven't met their goal of driving through every one of the lower 48 states - Florida
is the only one still on their list. But first, they're considering a trip to Nova Scotia.
Scott and Janet say it's
the little things that provide the most vivid memories - the smell of the desert air and the sight of golden fields of grain
waving through the Midwest.
It all adds up to "feeling part of the landscape," Scott says, a rare opportunity
to see something natural, untouched by man or machine.
And, as Janet says with a smile, "Every day is a new adventure."
By Emily Tartanella
Inquirer Staff Writer
The Philadelphia Inquirer