By now I had enough wet-road time to develop a good idea of the Dunlop tires' considerable capabilities in the rain. I could comfortably lean far enough to drag in the longer corners, and the road offered some nice turns to do so. There was little traffic, and my only real concern was deer.
I wanted to get to Danbury, Connecticut, that night to have breakfast the next morning with our own Mark Zimmerman. I considered a side trip to the Grand Canyon of the East, but by the time I was rolling, the black clouds ahead discouraged that. It was obviously pretty country, but the heavy rain kept me from seeing much. On the local news in Danbury the big story was record flooding.
The flooding story was being played even bigger the next morning. I decided to leave my gear (except my tools and cameras) at the hotel, ride out to Cape Cod, and return to Danbury that night. Of course, Mark and I got to yakking over breakfast, and I finally got going around noon, with the rain still pouring. Some of U.S. 6 was flooded, bringing traffic to a crawl. I finally went back to the interstate.
Eventually, U.S. 6 ended-not with a bang, but with road construction. I couldn't actually tell where it concluded, but by now I was getting damp. In a completely deserted beach parking lot, I walked to the water, dipped a foot in, used a restroom and started back west. On the way down the Cape, I passed the counterpart of the sign in Bishop, advising me that it was 3205 miles ahead, except the 2 was missing. Somehow, "3 05 Miles" didn't seem as intriguing.
I gave the bike a check the next morning after having traveled about 3800 miles. It looked pretty grimy from the continuing rain, but the only thing that had loosened was the nut that held the lock on the gas-cap cover. I'd noticed that in Utah and removed it so I wouldn't have to unlock it at every gas stop. (I'd buy the push-button latch that replaces the key lock.) The only attention the FLHX needed was a quart of oil, the only oil it required for the trip.
I headed for Columbus, Ohio, that night. Despite continuing rain, the ride was pleasant, and I made good time, with one incident. About an hour after dark, a driver lost control and spun ahead of me in a construction zone. I was riding with both brake controls covered and was able to get on the brakes quickly and forcefully. I'd had several days to practice wet stops on the Street Glide, and it paid off. I could slow quite hard and straight with just a slight loss of traction at the rear. The Street Glide's triple disc brakes are easy to control, with the rear a bit more sensitive than I prefer. You need a biggish paw to wrap all four fingers around the front lever easily, but it is controllable and predictable. I wish Harley would use adjustable levers so smaller hands could easily get proper purchase. I was impressed again with the Dunlops' wet traction.
The rain lightened the next morning, and a few miles down the road, some blue patches appeared toward the western horizon. Soon I was on dry pavement and wondering if I could actually put my rain gear away. Approaching the Indiana line, I stopped for a Yamaha FJR1300 rider on the shoulder with what sounded like a bad electrical connection. I suspected a loose battery lead. The problem was that neither of us knew where the battery was. (Keep your owner's manual on your bike.) We dug around for a while, and he finally called his shop. Once we learned the battery was in the fairing's right side, the bolt was tightened, and we were both on our way again.
Harley's saddlebag lid-latching design doesn't require much vertical space to open, so digging out tools at the roadside isn't a challenge. When properly fastened, they are completely waterproof (believe me!), and you can lever down on the contents if you overpack. Be sure the ears on the backs of the lids are aligned, though, or the lids can come loose and flop open. I misaligned them a couple of times and had to stop. You can lock them with the ignition key.
As I headed west through Colorado, the audio system mysteriously quit making noise. I never figured out if it had failed or if I had done something that silenced it. There was no manual, so I had no guidance to resurrect it. The display worked, however, so I still had a clock. Interstates 70 and 15 through Utah are some of the most scenic superslab in the country (especially where 70 crosses the Capitol Reef), so I didn't really miss the music. But I did want it the next day when I hit the hot, barren desert on I-15 north of Vegas. I got some relief from a nice little thunderstorm just after crossing into California.
After almost 8000 miles in 13 days, the Street Glide still ran flawlessly, and there was plenty of tread on the Dunlops. I tightened the seat screw once. A windshield screw and the tripmeter-reset button's nut had departed. The audio system's silence was the only real problem.
Those 8000 miles made me a fan. The Street Glide has displaced the Kawasaki Nomad as my favorite bagger. However, which one I would buy would depend on how deep my pockets felt. At about $18,500 plus tax and options, the FLHX is about $5500 more than the Nomad. I prefer the Kawasaki's suspension and saddlebags. The audio system makes up for some of the Street Glide's cost, and so does the fact that the FLHX is more responsive, powerful (even with the 1450cc engine) and considerably more comfortable for me. Still, $5500 is a sizeable stack of cash.
Of course, if the Street Glide's 21st-century style turns your head, it could be hard to convince yourself that you really should head for the opposite coast on anything.