DAY FIFTEEN - Friday, November 7, 2008
I had my alarm set for 4:30am, but my inner one went off an hour earlier. The MMGS next door was open 24 hours, so I got my motor warmed up over two strong cups of coffee. The night attendant was a friendly young man, so we chatted for a while, and then there was another example of the world being a small place. When I told him I was on my way home, after spending some time in Austin, he interrupted me and said, "I used to live in Austin."
He confirmed what so many other people had told me. Austin was unlike most of Texas… not only the terrain and geography, but the people who lived there as well. Not as red-necked and conservative as most Texans. Tie die was acceptable and even commonplace. I wonder if my next story is gonna be about moving there.
I wanted to spend more time with Prentice, but I also wanted to get started. I still hadn't decided if I was gonna make a slight detour to visit an old La Selva Beach friend who lived in Coalinga, but I wanted to keep the option open, and still be able to make it home at a decent hour.
I don't think I mentioned Lindsey when I went past the Coalinga exit, during the first few hours of my adventure. For some reason I feel like going into a little detail about her and the relationship we have. She tells me she shares everything with her husband, so I feel comfortable telling you a little about us. I sure wish Donna and I had a relationship like theirs. Donna prefers not to know about my relationships with other women. She chooses to operate her life on the 'don't ask and don't tell principal.'
Don’t get the wrong idea… although Lindsey and I have shared some flirtatious story telling, we do not have anything 'going on' between us. She is happily married, and I have always respected the sanctity of that commitment, and have never put any of my selves in a compromising position… missionary or otherwise.
That's a good example of the kind of playful banter Lindsey and I share with each other. We didn't really know each other when we were growing up, and have only recently become acquainted on the LSB Website. For some reason we have developed a very close friendship, and have shared lots of very personal things with each other.
She has been very supportive and has allowed me to 'cry on her shoulder', about how Donna and I have not been able to create the fulfilling bond I crave.
Thank you Lindsey, for being a good friend. And thank you Mike, for allowing your wife and I to have a close relationship without having the doubt or fear that there is more to it than there really is. Hopefully someday Donna will learn to trust me, that I am indeed trustworthy, and that my bark is just that. It's only a good natured 'act', based on my insecurities about my selves.
I got on the road at 7am and felt the excitement and the sadness of the impending end to my adventure, more than ever. I knew the real world was waiting for me, and that I was about to go thru perhaps the most difficult and stressful period of my life.
No home, no work, and perhaps no girlfriend to be my soul mate. At least I had (and still have… knock on wood) my health. My 'eternal optimism' will not allow me to feel too sorry for my selves. I know that things could always be worse.
When I made my first stop on the western outskirts of Barstow, I called Lindsey. She'd told me she'd be up early, so I knew 8am would be an okay time to let her know that I had decided to let my route take me thru Coalinga.
I didn't tell her, but I needed a hug. She gave me Richard's cell number to reach her on, as she was gonna be out running errands with her friend slash employer later that morning and into the afternoon, and she didn't own a cellular device. I got back on Honey and felt a sense of peace wash over me. I had not yet met this gal face to face, yet somehow I knew we would not feel uncomfortable with each other, and would be able to share our time together, easily.
I pulled into the MMGS in Tehachapi at 9:45am, and was breathing heavy sighs of relief. I had missed the exit to Mojave about 20 miles back, and had been assuming that hunched over streamlined position I had used trying to get to Iraan just three days before. Was it really three days ago? It felt like just yesterday. If I had run out of gas again, I would've been ashamed to put it in my story. What a knucklehead.
Instead, I can puff up my chest and tell you what a great estimator of gas mileage I am. Honey took 4.459 gallons… she had given us 145.4 miles of travel… so that meant she had gotten 32.608 miles per gallon, and that she had (only) 7.859 miles left before she ran dry. Boy, am I good or what? Don't answer that.
I celebrated my brilliance with a Guinness. I wish I woulda checked the picture that Brian… a fellow traveler took of the three of us… almost hidden behind a huge tumbleweed I found and dragged over. He framed the shot horribly. It serves its purpose however. Honey was almost completely hidden behind this bush, and she's almost 10 feet long.
I don't have much experience with tumbleweeds, but Kellie the MMGS attendant, said she'd lived in the area for years, and had never seen one that big in her life. I thought about making a joke about offering to show her something else I had that was really big, but decided to give her a break.
My ride down the hill towards Bakersfield was one of the highlights of my trip, road- wise. Maybe it was the little buzz I had going from my heavy, full bodied, breakfast beer. I don't recall anything special about the road when I was going the other direction, almost exactly two weeks ago, but I sure did notice it this time.
Kellie: "Oh my goodness… I've never seen one that big in my life"
The nine-foot tumbleweed
It was just after 10am and there were only a few cars for me to deal with. The feeling of connection came over me. As I settled into Honey's seat and brought her up to cruising speed, I felt like she was asking me if we could go faster. It was as though she was asking me to let out on her reigns for a little while, and let her really stretch out her beautiful long legs. Boy, talk about poetic license… a motorcycle with long legs…
Highway 58 was a freeway and so were we. I took a quick peek back at Alyson, to make sure she was sitting properly and securely, and then slowly let Honey speed up. The road was winding down towards the Central Valley, and I could see the tell- tale sign of progress in the distance… a brown hazy layer of smog on the horizon.
Yuck. After so many days and so many miles of crystal clear high desert air, I had forgotten about things like traffic, civilization, and all those rats, stuffed into a cage too small for a healthy life. That's a little harsh I know, but in my perfect dream world… with its rainbows, butterflies and lollipops… people live where they can breath the air… not drink it like dirty brown soup.
But this is not a story of sadness and pessimism. It is (supposed to be) a simple, fun, entertaining, feel-good story, meant only for your enjoyment and distraction. Well… that and a 'documentary/ autobiography' of sorts.
The curves in the road were consistent and perfectly banked. The line of sight was good… the pavement was as smooth as glass… and there was even a concrete divider between us, and the oncoming traffic. I let Honey enjoy the optimum conditions. For about 10 or 15 miles, we wound our selves down the hill. I think we passed about five cars and each time, Honey was able to judge the speed difference between us and the car, so that we passed them on the inside, going around a left hand turn.
The mid morning early November air was warming, and even at our speed of 90~100mph, I could hardly hear either the rush of the wind or Honey's breathing. If she really was alive, I know she would have had a huge smile on her face. I kept mine to a small grin… I didn't want to forget that the last legs of all road trips are always the most dangerous, and I did not want to spoil my feel-good story with a feel-bad ending.
As I was leaving the western outskirts of the GBA (greater Bakersfield area), I stopped to call Lindsey and Richard to confirm the when and where details of our mini reunion. It was about 11:30am, and they estimated me to be about an hour away, so they suggested we meet at Coco's for lunch. I knew I wouldn't eat much of anything, but thought that was as good a place as any.
When I pulled into the parking lot, there was a spot waiting for me directly in front of the entrance. The rest of the lot was completely full. After a little over 14 days and right around 4,400 miles, lady luck was still smiling on me… I mean us.
As I was swinging my right leg over Honey's lap, and being careful not to whack Alyson in her cute little face, four gentlemen in overalls came walking out of the restaurant. Dennis, Ken, Shannon, and Chad introduced themselves as oil well inspectors. From the calluses and black stains I noticed as we shook hands during our greeting, I guessed they did more than inspect as part of their work.
It was about 1pm and even though I knew Lindsey and Richard were probably inside waiting for me, I spent a few minutes with these very friendly and gregarious men.
I could tell they were intrigued by the adventure I was getting ready to complete. Clearly, they were men who appreciated a good adventure. We bonded for only about five minutes, but when they posed for their group photo, their smiles were like those of longtime friends.
There was no hostess at the please wait to be seated podium when I went inside the restaurant, so I walked into the main room, and immediately saw Lindsey and Richard, sitting in a booth against the outside wall.
Richard, who was sitting on the outside, got up and shook my hand. I hoped that none of my oil inspectors' grease transferred to him. The opening between the seat and the table was tight, and I was stiff, so my first few moments with my long-time, barely known friend was not very graceful.
After I finished my grunts and groans and squeezed my girth into my seat across the table from Lindsey, I reached out to shake her hand. I almost knocked her glass of water over, as I not too tenderly pulled her hand across the table towards me… awkwardly leaned forward… and kissed the back of it. What a gentleman… a gorilla in a china shop… but at least a gentleman gorilla.
I remember how inappropriate it seemed when I ordered a cup of fruit for my meal. Here I was… this massive, dirty, greasy, road weary, biker, in full black leathers who hadn't shaved for about seven days or bathed in the last two… and I was ordering a foo-foo lunch of fruit, instead of a medium-rare double chili cheese burger with onions and extra fries.
I explained to them how I get sleepy when I eat a big meal, and that I had not eaten any fruit in the last week or so, so I was listening to my body's request for something nutritional and light. Plus… in all honesty… I wanted to do something a little unexpected. I guess it's a little of the devil in me, the side of me that wants to be remembered.
As I had guessed, Lindsey and I spoke easily and comfortably, and I was not surprised that Richard seemed like a very nice guy. The email chatting that Lindsey and I had been doing over the previous few weeks had given me the strong impression that she was a gal with substance, a kind heart, and a well-developed sense of humor. Birds of similar feathers I thought to myself, as the three of us leisurely ate our meals.
After about 45 minutes we all started squirming at the same time, so we walked outside for the obligatory photo op. I wanted to squeeze Lindsey's cute tight little butt, to get an expression of surprise on her face just as Richard snapped the shot, but I was able to contain my selves, and held up my fingers as antennas behind her head instead. One of my selves was proud of me as they walked away and got in their car, and several of my other selves were disappointed.
Lindsey is a flirt too… she had taken a little hop and a skip, and had (not very discreetly) wagged her tail for me, as she turned and walked away. She's a cutie with lots of personality, that's for sure. I hope our friendship continues to grow… and grow.
Mike, please accept my sincere thanks and appreciation for your continued acceptance and trust in the innocent nature of my flirtatious comments about and with, your wife. You are a real gentleman. I will never betray you…no matter how much she shakes her moneymaker at me.
Apparently this 2-part goo is designed to harden and then fasten itself to the aluminum skin and create a bond tight enough to seal off the repeated compressions and explosive expansions that make our girls go (internal combustion engines). Ron told me the goo was supposed to heal for 24 hours, but that they were gonna give it a go, after they had their lunch and David got his wits about him. FYI - David was bruised and scratched a bit, but was not damaged as badly as his bike.
Lindsey told me I was going to enjoy the road across the coastal range foothills, but she was wrong. I didn't enjoy it. I LOVED it. When I got home, one of the first things I did was email her, and tell her she was in trouble, because with that road between us, she was going to have to deal with more of my visits. Fortunately, she sounded pleased about the prospect, and not sad.
Highway 198. I highly recommend it to anyone and everyone… especially for those of you who ride iron horses. The road was designed for fun, and the vistas are beautiful. Even the delay due to roadwork just west of Priest Valley was fun…
Lisa was a Cal Trans worker who was sitting in her truck next to the porta-poddy I stopped at, on this beautiful road between Coalinga and King City. I wish I would've asked her if I could take her picture… I had traveled more than half way across our great Nation and back again, only to find one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen, less than 100 miles from where I started.
She was probably about 30 years old, with long sandy blonde hair. She had a real natural beauty. No makeup. And she didn't have to get out of her truck for me to know she had a great figure. When she rolled down the window to respond to my request to use the porta-poddy, I knew that in a different lifetime, we could have made the most beautiful babies, she and I.
Who, me? A flirt? Yes I am. But I'm a respectful flirt. I didn't even allow my jaw to drop, or let my… … … eyes… get big. I simply tipped my helmet as I came out of the port-a-poddy, and got on my horse and road off. Donna was waiting for me, and she is THE most beautiful woman I've ever seen.
I am truly one of the luckiest men in the world. If I can learn to contain my flirting, and she can learn to trust me while I learn how to do it… there is a good chance we may be able to develop that special bond I so much crave. Finding my soul mate will always be my top priority… right behind taking care of my daughters, and going on my adventure rides, that is.
I wouldn't bet the farm on us though. Although I'm not totally un-trainable, I certainly am going to be a project for the rest of my life, that's for certain. One of my past girlfriend's girlfriend told her one time, when I was out strutting my stuff… "You better put that stallion in a corral, before he gets loose." I love that comment.
I made it to Castroville around 4pm, about 20 miles from my final destination. It had been exactly 14½ days since I took off on this adventure. The last girl I'm gonna tell you about is Lupe, who was working the MMGS counter when I stopped for my celebratory 12 pack of Bud, and the last fuel for Honey. I was trying to stay calm, but my excitement must've been apparent to her.
First she told me that my Spanish was really good (I had asked her if I could use the employee's bathroom). As she was handing me the key, she told me in pretty good English, that she could really get in trouble, but that for some reason she trusted me. I saw that she was sincere in her fear of getting caught, so I put up both my hands, and told her it wasn't urgent, and that my next stop was only 15 minutes away.
When I took the time to tell her how I learned my limited amount of Spanish, my adventure ended up lasting about 15 minutes longer than it would have. I told her that I used to go to Hermosillo, Mexico with my parents every winter… my Mom's hometown, the Capitol city of the State of Sonora. She asked me how my parents met, and I told her the whole story. Since my adventure is all but over, I will end this true story with another true story:
When my Dad was 24, he packed a bag and got in his car with one of his best buddies. His best man actually, for his upcoming wedding to a gal named Claira Burda. He had decided to make his bachelor's party a 'road trip' (I wonder if that's why I like road trips so much?). They headed south from Sacramento, and didn't stop until they got to Hermosillo. When Dad placed a call to his fiancé, the long distance operator who made the connection was a gal named Celia Moreno.
Back in those days (circa 1938), it was quite a process… as it took a series of connections, made manually from operator to operator, to get the line 'tied together' all that way. While my dad and 'this gal' where on the line waiting, as each operator made the next connection, they struck up a conversation. My Dad didn't speak a word of Spanish, but Celia was fluent in English, one of the reasons she was working as a long-distance operator.
Well, according to my parents, they both became infatuated with each other's voices. Before the final connection was made, they had a made a date to meet later that evening. There was a big town party, and although my Dad didn't know it at the time, she had just been crowned the Queen of the City, as part of the celebration.
When my Mom came up to my Dad on the street corner where they had arranged to meet, my Dad didn't recognize her. She was dressed in full regalia, head to foot, including a full mask covering her face. My mom says she would have been able to recognize this man as her date for the evening. Probably by his skin color… I don't imagine there were many gringos walking around that night, but let's pretend it was her intuition, ok? Anyway, as soon as my Mom said hello to my Dad, he says he recognized her from what he always called the 'most beautiful voice in the world.'
The love story continues with them spending the entire night together, into the wee hours of the morning, talking and talking… my Mom never taking off her headdress. When they parted company, they had arranged for my Dad to meet her the following morning at her home, so that he could ask her father for permission to marry her. He hadn't even seen her face yet, and he was ready to dump Ms. Burda, back in Sacramento, and marry this girl he had only met a few hours ago… over the phone!
My Mom's Father (Marciel) was a poet, and he approved the union. Amazing. My Dad drove back to Sacramento and told his fiancé about what happened, and she graciously forgave him, and wished him the best of luck with his impulsive (to say the least!) decision. She was probably grateful to be released from a life long bond with a man who was quite obviously totally insane.
Two weeks later after flying back to Hermosillo, my Dad was nudged by my Mom at the altar, when it was time for him to say, "Si." He took her back to Sacramento with him, and 63 years later, my Mom died peacefully in their home in Aptos, living what I believe is the Fairy Tale of All Time. No wonder I'm so difficult to please… I was raised in a totally unrealistic world of rainbows, butterflies, lollipops, and 'true love at first sound' (just like I felt the first time I heard Honey's voice).
When we got home, I parked Honey under the carport… turned her off for her first real rest in over two weeks… and just sat there… motionless… for several minutes. I thanked her out loud, as I took off my gloves and laid my bare hands on the top of her tummy and rubbed her tenderly. Then I thanked all of my selves, and told them how proud I was of them for helping each other so well along the journey. Then I thanked My Higher Power… The White Light Protective Energy… and Lady Luck… all of which had helped me to complete my adventure without one scratch, one bruise, or any real problem whatsoever.
I looked at the time. 4:32pm…
14 days, 12 hours, and 22 minutes.
Then I looked at Honey's odometer, and did the math…
395 miles for the day and a Grand Total Adventure of 4,561.
The End.
... I hope you weren't expecting anything profound…
No comments:
Post a Comment