A Harley-owner chronicles his trip from Florida to Pennsylvania
By Mike Rieker

I recently decided to take a trip up to Pennsylvania from Florida with my bike for a few weeks to see the grandkids and some old friends. I started in Dunedin and shot across I-4 to Sanford for my first-ever ride on the Auto Train (Auto Train is an Amtrak train service from Florida to Virginia for passengers and their vehicles. Ed.).

If you haven't done it—well—let’s just say for the moment that several of our club members have done it before and said it was a great experience. Could they be wrong? Could I trust the judgment of my fellow chapter members? Can anyone? They seemed sincere enough. But being the pranksters that they are, I was dubious at best.

After hearing horror stories of bikes falling out of the racks and banging against each other all the way to Virginia and strapped on bags missing, I checked to see if my insurance was current. Then I made my coach reservations for the trip up north.

The instructions are to get to the station no later than 2 p.m. for a 4 p.m. departure. I left home at around 8:30 a.m. Traffic was no problem and I get there at 10 a.m. They weren't even open yet to receive vehicles, still I checked in.

I asked about the "roomette" and was told that it would be a $180 upgrade. I pondered the wisdom of spending an extra $85 for 17 hours of comfort and decided against it. With some time to kill, I grab lunch. Upon returning, I found that they were receiving vehicles. As time got closer, I reconsidered the "roomette" idea and decided why not. Of course, they were selling like chrome at a 20 percent off sale at Fletcher’s department store and I managed to get one of the final few for $220. Damn, it better be comfy. "All aboard!!!!!!!!"

I climbed the stairs of Car 3212 and found my "roomette" about halfway down the passageway. I quickly understood what the "ette" part of "roomette" actually meant. It is about seven and a half feet long and if I stretched my folded arms, my elbows could touch the window and the bulkhead.

That is about four inches across. Flashbacks to my Mexican prison days suddenly flooded my mind, but I was relieved to find no rodents, roaches or Juans (that's another story). Inside there are two seats that face each other and a small drop-down table between them. I was to find out later that these fold down to make the lower bunk. Yes, lower bunk, meaning that there is an upper bunk and that this broom closet was designed for two people. Munchkins perhaps. Average-sized humans no way. Fortunately, I left my large bag on the bike and just had a carry on and a small, rather nifty Harley Davidson-brand cooler that I got as a door prize for spending some of Progressive Insurance's money for my recent wreck repair. Thanks Progressive.