ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Thursday, August 1, 1996 TAG: 9608010018
SECTION: NEIGHBORS PAGE: N-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: CHRISTINA NUCKOLS STAFF WRITER
MEMO: ***CORRECTION***
Published correction ran on Aug. 3.
Clarification
A front-page article in the Neighbors section did not intend to imply
that Bill Rand was the sole owner when it referred to Richardson-Wayland
Electrical Corp. as "his company." Rand was the president, CEO, director
and one of 90 stockholders in the company before it was sold in 1992.
THE fuel tank was almost full when Kathy Rand felt the nozzle go dead.
As she stood in the middle of Winnemucca, Nev., she didn't realize she was rattling one numb nerve ending in a giant power blackout spanning 10 Western states.
Rand and her husband, Bill, were among thousands of motorists who would stop on July 2 at the halfway point between Salt Lake City and Reno for gasoline, burgers and a break from the hot, dusty road. They were among the last to leave.
As gas pumps, air conditioners and fast food grills fell silent across Winnemucca, the Rands climbed on their Harley-Davidson motorcycle and roared out of sight.
Life is just better when you're on a Harley.
Bill Rand has been telling his wife that since he met her three years ago. This summer, they set out on a 3,800-mile trip from Virginia to California to test his theory.
"When you are riding a Harley, you are in the action," Bill said. "There's something about the interaction with nature, of having a June bug fly into your face at 100 miles per hour, bringing a tear to your eye."
This summer's cross-country tour was his second. He made his first trip alone four years ago after selling his company, Richardson-Wayland Electrical Corp., and divorcing his first wife.
The sale and divorce were in the works when Rand picked up a Wall Street Journal and read a front-page article about how Harley-Davidson's employees had bought the bankrupt company and turned it around by talking with customers and following their suggestions for improvements.
Rand was so impressed, he drove to the Roanoke Valley Harley-Davidson dealer. And there it was: a 1990 Softail custom.
"It was black and chrome and ... Aaarrr ... it talked to me," he recalled. "I put it on my Visa card. They still talk about that over there."
Once all his legal loose ends were tied, Rand took off on his bike and meandered across the country. From atop his bike, the 44-year-old began taking stock of his life, both past and present. Roaring down back roads with the wind whipping rain into his face brought back memories of his days as a helicopter pilot in Vietnam. He also was reminded of his childhood in Florida, where he graduated from motor scooters to motorbikes and finally his first motorcycle at age 12.
"It was your basic midlife redirection," he said. "It was a solo journey through time and space and, really, a spiritual journey. I spent 350 hours by myself out there in the country with no itinerary, no plan and, for the most part, no interstates. It was the most positive, wonderful thing that ever happened to me."
Everywhere he went, hotel clerks, a group of Hell's Angels look-alikes and other strangers helped him find places to stay and suggested points of interest for him to visit.
"The world wasn't any different than I thought it was," he said. "How I approached it is what made the difference. What I gave off is what I got back. I was basically tabula rasa, stripped naked out there, and people saw that."
Rand returned to Roanoke, got a job as director of general services for Roanoke County, and met Kathy, a sales assistant with Dean Witter Reynolds.
``Our first conversation was, `Can I have a ride on your bike?''' she said.
The two have crisscrossed the region on the Harley. Last Thanksgiving, they began planning for a reunion of helicopter pilots who served in Vietnam. The event was being held in San Jose, Calif., so they decided to make the trip by motorcycle. They studied maps and weather reports, and Kathy, who was accustomed to driving a smaller motorcycle, practiced maneuvering the Harley.
In spite of her husband's romantic tales, Kathy learned that a cross-country bike trip is more than just roaring down a desert highway humming a Steppenwolf song. There was the 100-degree heat mixed with dense humidity and a burning crosswind that made their trip through Missouri and Kansas practically unbearable. And the pinpricks from raindrops they encountered along the Pacific Coast Highway. Not to mention the boredom and muscle cramps from sitting astride a quaking Hog for 12 to 14 hours a day.
"When my butt was really getting sore, I'd start singing ``99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall," hoping when I got down to one we'd be close to stopping," she said.
The couple said they learned a lot about each other on the trip. She was pleasantly surprised when he didn't lose his temper in Topeka, where their bike broke down. Although she was a bit panicky during that incident, she took charge when he caught the flu in California, renting a Ryder truck for the motorcycle and driving for two days while he recuperated.
Both said they would take the trip again, but they'd like to have more time and two motorcycles. No matter where their Hog might lead them, they said they'll always return to Roanoke.
"Roanoke is not perfect," Bill Rand said, "but it's the best of anyplace I have been in this country."
LENGTH: Long : 103 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: ALAN SPEARMAN/Staff. Bill and Kathy Rand rode their 1990by CNBHarley-Davidson Softtail custom to San Francisco this summer.
color.