Please Allow Me To Introduce My Selves: DAY 15- 4k words

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.

Ron, Gary, Campbell, and David… four biker brothers on a ride from San Jose to San Luis Obispo… had parked next to me, so I chatted with them for a while.  David had gone down a few miles up the road, and was licking his wounds inside Coco's as I was saying good-bye to Lindsey.  Ron and Gary were smearing a special kind of goo on the cylinder head of David's Beemer.  When he went down, the pavement took off the top layers of skin on her right side.  She also snapped her mirror and turn signal, but the damage to her heart (cylinder head) was going to be the determining factor on if she was gonna be able to continue on their planned mini adventure.

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…

 

Please Allow Me To Introduce My Selves: DAY 14- 3.2k words

DAY FOURTEEN - Thursday, November 6, 2008

The next thing I remember is actually hearing my alarm going off at 7am.  After yesterday's mishap, I decided to sleep a little later than usual.  Fortunately my inner clock cooperated… gratefully over-ridden by my body's need for additional rest.

As I was lacing up my boots, I promised myself that I would pay better attention to my 'this is not a race mantra', not only while I was riding, but when it came time to start thinking about when and where I was gonna bunk down again, for my last night on the road before getting home.  Home…

I was excited to be so close to the end of my adventure, but deeply melancholy    about the fact that I would be spending only another two nights or so, at the cute little beach bungalow that had been my home for the last 2½ years.

Brian, the motel handyman, kept me company as I packed Honey and finished my last cup of coffee.  He was a morning person too.  In fact, I remember thinking to myself… boy oh boy this guy sure can talk.  Now I know how other people feel when they're subjected to my early morning jibber-jabber.  I learned about his career as a pipe fitter, his time in Alaska on a fishing boat, the motorcycles he had at home, and way too much about his estranged wife and mother-in-law.

Nice guy, but I'm sure if I hadn't apologized for having to leave, and rode off that morning, I'd still be there, listening to his incessant yacky-yack-yack-yack.  I made myself a mental note:  Try to be a little quieter when around other people, first thing in the morning.

My first leg of the day took me thru some magnificent scenery.  Globe is situated at the hollow between the Apache and Pinal Mountains, and the steep canyon I followed down the hill to the desert floor was a wonderful way to start my morning.  The wind chill was cool but not cold, probably because I was keeping my speed down, so I could absorb the last real mountains I was going to see for the rest of my trip.  The road thru the towns of Mojave and Tehachapi was the only real pass I had remaining, so I wanted to soak in as much of this as I could.

The rocky spires I passed reminded me of the ones I'd seen in Bryce Canyon in southern Utah a few years ago.  Not quite that dramatic, but definitely more so than the little ones in The Pinnacles, south of my home in central California.

I think I mentioned the Pinnacles at the beginning of my story, but I don’t think I mentioned it is the resting site of my older brother Jon, and my parents, Jack & Celia.  I was honored with the task of scattering the ashes of all three of them.

The bridge over Queen Creek was also notable.  I wish I would've stopped and taken a picture of it… it is very similar to the Bixby Bridge, just south of Carmel and north of Big Sur…  both of them are masterpieces of concrete engineering.

My first stop of the day was in Apache Junction, just on the eastern outskirts of the GPA.  I was back in civilization for the first time since El Paso almost 1,000 miles ago.  And wouldn'tchya know it… again, during morning rush hour.  Actually, that's not really true.  It was near the end of rush hour, about 9:30am.  As I entered the madness and mayhem of Mesa, the traffic slowed to about 40mph.  Not bad.

Two hours later, I was finally leaving the western outskirts of this 80-mile wide     (and growing) metropolis.  Progress.  Yuck.  I sure hope I don't ever have to live in a city.  I don't know how so many people are able to deal with it.  Some of them even profess to like it.  Oh well… to each their own.  You can give me the open country over a crowded city anytime.

As the traffic was lightening, and I was speeding up to my normal cruising speed, I noticed a single headlight in my mirror.  I motorcycle was catching me…

There had been several cars and trucks that had passed me on this trip, but this was gonna be the first motorcycle.  I was going my normal 80mph, and he was going at least 20mph faster.  As he got closer, I could tell it wasn't a sport bike by the way the rider was sitting on it.  He was upright, not that hunched over god-awful awkward position those adrenaline junky crazy kids assume.  He had his feet out in front of him, stretched out straight.  He reminded me of the way I look on Honey.

As the rider came up behind me, he moved over into the right hand lane.  He was gonna get off at the next exit.  I was curious as to what kind of a bike he was riding, so I let off on Honey's reigns and let the other iron horse come up beside me.  My guess was correct… it was another V-Tex, just like Honey.   We gave each other the thumbs up signal as we road side by side, for just a few seconds before he veered off the freeway at his exit.  'Vee Tex'… that's what we call our bikes.  When Honda came up with the design for the VTX, they outdid themselves.  It is the best bike on the road… says the man, like a proud father speaking about his daughter.

Down the road just a little bit, as I was getting ready to get back on Honey, after my next gas & stretch stop, a Harley pulled up next to me, and a young, good-looking couple got off and said hello.  They were on their way to a rally in Lake Havasu, and they were riding a very nice Harley.  I don't use those words in the same sentence very often.  Nice and Harley.  It's (usually) a good-natured joke that most Harley riders and Honda riders have about each other.  Each likes to profess their bike to be superior.  Once in a great while you'll run across an asshole, but my experience has led me to believe there are almost as many ass-holes who ride Hondas, as those who ride Harleys.

Anyway, Todd told me he was a Harley salesman in New Mexico, and was taking   the bike to promote his Dealership.  I told him that his lady friend (Kim) was as good an advertising tool as the bike.  She blushed, and he nodded his acceptance of my compliment with a sly grin.  Honda riders… Harley riders, we're all the same… little boys in men’s bodies.

I must've been feelin' pretty spunky 'cuz as we were saying our good-byes, there was a car next to us that was having problems starting, and as I pushed the starter on Honey, and she kicked over immediately and started her normal purring, I   called out to Todd and Kim as they were walking away… "That car sounds just like a Harley!"

My estimation of Todd's nature was confirmed as he stopped, turned, bent over at the waist, put his hands on his knees, and let out a loud laugh.  He was a slightly built man with soft features, and I knew I could've taken him, if he decided to take offense to my jest.  KIDDING.  Ya'all know by now that I'm a lover not a fighter.  I was sure he would know I wasn't being serious.  I've been perfecting my sarcasm for years, and rarely am mistaken as any kind of a threat.  Knock on wood.

When I got to within about 50 miles of the Colorado River and my home state line, I turned north and got off the I-10 Interstate… time for more back roads.  I followed Arizona Hwy 95 along the river thru Lake Havasu City.  I hadn't remembered being on that highway before.  For some reason each time I'd taken this route, I'd gone to and from Needles, on California Hwy 95.  I was pleasantly and happily surprised about my decision.  Even with the afternoon west Arizona winds picking up, this  was a beautiful stretch of road.  The vast difference in colors between the light-red-brown rocks, and the deep-dark-blue river was spectacular.

It was the first water of any sort I'd seen since Lake Travis, on the western outskirts of Austin, but much different.  Desolate, rocky desert on the right side of the highway, in stark opposition to the lush, fertile, green river valley on my left.   

I decided to pull over and take a picture of Lake Havasu, this beautiful body, placed there for me alone, and when I saw a sign for a scenic overlook, I pulled over and stopped.  As if on cue, there was a single car with two young lovers standing next    to it, holding each other in a tight embrace.  I was not alone after all.

The feeling of beauty that this scene had placed on me, had stricken someone else as well.  I introduced myself and told them that the presence of their tender love added a great deal to this already beautiful scene.  When the young man told me his name,    I was not really surprised.  This is not really such a large world, is it?  I had just been thinking about the last beautiful body of water I had seen, back in western Austin.  His name was Travis and he and Kayla were very sweet.  Young love is such a special thing.  Love in general is special, don't get me wrong, it's just that I'm sure you'll agree, there is something about young love that makes the heart feel good in a different way, right?

I thought of my own love, and wondered if there was any chance that Donna and I would hold each other the way this young couple was.  The love they were exuding  was filling me with a renewed hope that I could find that same feeling again someday.  I will never stop hoping that my heart will be filled, and that I will be able to fill someone's else’s heart.  Ain't love grand?

My relaxed feeling of hope for finding true happiness would have to wait.  When I got back on the road, the winds had picked up dramatically.  They were blowing almost as hard as they had in West Texas.  When one of the gusts almost knocked me off the road, I shook myself awake, and got my mind back on reality.  It was like the gods where telling me to stop 'pipe-dreaming' about 'love' and pay attention to what I was doing.

Life is not always like a storybook.  Fairy tale endings do not happen to everyone.  Circumstances have dealt me a life that has been a tease.  I thought I had found my soul mate when I married Mimi… then again with Ann.  Now my hope that Donna     was going to fill that 'void' in me was…  

BOOM… the wind slapped me in the face and reminded me that most likely, my mistakes with her were going to be enough to keep me from experiencing the happiness I was dreaming of.  I had had my chances.  Why should I expect to be rewarded now… this late in my life?  It would be easier for me emotionally, if I accepted the fact that I would be alone for the rest of my life. 

I made my selves remember that there was still a lot of enjoyment a man like me could experience.  No one else can bring me happiness… it must come from inside me… I will never be able to make someone else happy, until I am happy already… all these silly clichés were bouncing around in my head, when all of a sudden…

WHAAMMO… the wind hit me again… hard… but this time from the opposite direction as the last time!  WAKE UP NED!…  STOP DAYDREAMING!  You can feel sorry for your selves later.

The next 15~20 miles were probably the most difficult riding conditions of the entire adventure.  The winds were gusting to at least 50mph, and to make it even worse, the low-lying hilly terrain was causing the wind to swirl, and hit me from different directions.  One moment I was being pushed to the left, and then the next second, to the right.  To say it was unnerving was an understatement.  The fragile and delicate thought of finding love and living happily ever after, had been shattered.

I was determined not to shatter (and scatter) Honey, Alyson, and my own body parts all over this highway.  My vision quest would not be as much fun, if it was being done from a hospital bed, with tubes and machines keeping me alive.  Time to focus on the real world…

I don't think I told you about the picture I took of the American flag being held taut in the wind at one of my stops in West Texas.  Here in Bullhead City, the MMGS I stopped at, had one too… a big one.  You can't tell by the picture I took, but it was at least 30 feet long and 20 feet tall.

The sounds it was making and the fact that it was still in one piece, indicated to me that it was constructed out of very heavy canvas.  Not light, parachute type material, but some type of heavy man made fiber blends other than cotton… or maybe it was made of something even stronger… a material made by God… hemp.

The wind here was blowing consistently from one direction and it was holding this huge flag at full attention.  I didn't need to go poddy or get gas, so I found a semi truck-trailer to park next to, to block the wind while I had a cigarette.  I went thru my routine of stretches, twists, and bends, and noticed my shoulders were starting to burn again, but welcomed the distraction of the discomfort as a not so gentle reminder to keep my attention on the task at hand, and not let my mind wander back off into la la land.  I still had quite a few miles to go that day.

I looked at the time on my phone and then at the odometer on Honey, and smiled.  They both said the same thing.  Three-thirty-three.  I decided to let my mind wander… after all… I was parked safely and resting, and… this was not a race.

 I like it when 'synchronicity' comes out of life's 'chaos.'  I've always been a numbers guy.  There's something secure and calming about them.  I guess it's their consistency and inherently dependable nature.  It's always given me a comforting feeling to know that some things can be explained in a rational, scientific manner.

Yet another example of how many different aspects I have to my selves.  I had just forced one of my selves to stop it's enjoyable, albeit melancholy daydreaming of esoteric love, and now I was feeling happy to be grounded in a firmly three-dimensional thought process.  I've never tried to count the different selves within me, but my guess is that the number is in double digits.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this yet, but I've always felt happy to have multiple personalities.  I normally do not enjoy being alone, and having someone to talk to when I am alone makes me feel better.

My next stop was in Needles, and Brenda's bar.  I hoped she would remember me.  BK's Lounge is one of those places where, when you walk in the door… everyone stops talking and turns and looks at you, like you're an alien or something.  Good thing I didn't bring in Alyson, it might've given one of the old-timers a heart attack.

Brenda honored me by remembering me.  I guess I am succeeding at one of my childhood goals.  I'm not sure how old I was, probably 10 or 12 when I decided that I wanted to make everyone I met, remember me… clearly a sign of severe insecurity.  Oh well, none-the-less, I have made it one of my life missions to do, say, or act, in such a way as to be remembered.

I'm not nearly as loud and forceful as I used to be, but I still tend to like to stand in the middle of the room, raise my arms over my head and yell, "Look at me, look at me".  Not literally, as I said, I'm not nearly as dramatic as I used to.  Thank goodness.  Hey… it ain't easy bein' me.  In fact, if I didn't have to be around my selves all the time, I wouldn't.  It can be very tiring.  Sometimes I get sick and tired of the sound of my own voice, I can only imagine how others feel.

I only stayed for one frosty mug of pushing my luck, but was able to make a few new friends.  Tadd… a fellow rider who, even though a Harley guy… came out to check out Honey.  See… not all Harley guys are assholes.  Jeesh, will I never stop giving that breed a rash of shit?

Truck was a good guy, and posed with Brenda for me.  Kinda like the bar in the TV show Cheers…  BK's is a place where everyone knows your name.  I'm already looking forward to stopping there again, and making new friends, in this messy smoke filled room.

I bid everyone a farewell and promised Brenda that I'd send her a copy of my story.

One quick stop at the GSGS (gift shop gas station) in Essex, and then it was Ludlow.  Even though it is dry there, there's something about this little nothing-of-a-town that is attractive to me.  Maybe the fact that this little coffee shop can survive at all, out here in the middle of nowhere, is enchanting to me.

I was still 50 miles from my morning's goal of Barstow for my sleep over stop, but after yesterday's pit fall (get it, pit fall)… I decided that the small motel here in Ludlow would suit me just fine, thank you very much.  Alyson was happy too.  The room they gave me had two beds, so she got her own for the first time since we met.

                              She didn't take the silly 'oh' expression off her face all night

After settling her and my selves in, I did some math.  436 miles for the day, put me over the four thousand mile mark for the trip… 4,166 to be exact.  For a second I thought about extending my route to make it over 5,000, but decided it was not important. Numbers are fun, but after all, they are only numbers.  I knew that I was gonna hafta face reality sooner or later.  I would enjoy my last night on the road, and try to make tomorrow, the last day of my adventure, an enjoyable and safe one.

Please Allow Me To Introduce My Selves: DAY 13- 1.6k words

DAY THIRTEEN - Wednesday, November 5, 2008

I woke up 20 minutes before my alarm went off., and got out of bed at 4:10am.  My inner clock knew this was gonna be another tough day, and wanted me to get as early a start as possible.  Last night over dinner, I had decided to think about making it to Peoria today.  It would take a ride of about 575 miles, but I was gonna be leaving west Texas within the first couple of hours of my ride, and I was hoping that the winds of east New Mexico weren't gonna be as bad as the ones in west Texas.

My first stop of the morning was in Sierra Blanca.  It was only a 37-mile leg, but my morning coffee was not being gentle in its demand to be released.  Plus, I had to put on some more layers of clothing.  I knew I was going to go up and over a pass leaving Van Horn, but I thought I'd go back down the other side.  Nope.  Between the rise in elevation and the change in the weather (it was November for goodness sake), it was pretty darn chilly.  No worries, my Dad who had been a scoutmaster, had taught me how to pack for trips. 

Only carry enough clothes that you can wear at one time.  No need to pack 2 sweaters, unless you can put one of them on, over the other.  And… hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.  Good advice for anyone… anytime… right?

An hour later and 68 miles down the road, about 30 miles from El Paso, I stopped again.  This rest stop should be the last coffee release of the day.  I got off Honey and looked at the time on my phone.  Hey it must've stopped (?!?)… it showed 7am, but it had shown 7am an hour ago in Sierra Blanca.  Obviously there was some kind of a rift in the space-time continuum.  Oh, that's right… the phones these days have built in global positioning software, and I had crossed the line from the central time zone, to the mountain zone.  Technology.  It never ceases to amaze me.

Honey was thirsty when we got to El Paso, and it worked out fine, 'cuz we weren't making any time anyway.  I was in the first traffic of any sort I'd been in since leaving the GPA exactly one week ago today.  It was a culture shock, after so many miles of open road.

After filling up, I was slightly concerned about the health of my best girl.  I could only put 2.8 gallons in her stomach before her food reached the brim of her mouth.  She had asked me to flip her reserve valve about 10 miles back, so she should've had room for one more gallon.  Poor girl… something was wrong with her.  I hoped she wasn't in pain.  Hopefully something simple, like a little sand in one of her arteries.  It may sound insensitive, but a clogged vein on a trip like this would be a minor issue in the grand scheme of things.

She wasn't showing any signs of discomfort… she was still purring like a kitten and at least outwardly, seemed to be quite happy.  The 3,386 miles she'd taken us in just a few hours over 12 days, put her close to the mileage she normally gets her well baby doctor's visit.  This would typically have taken us weeks, if not a few months to reach… I wondered if that might be part of the problem.  She was still a young gal, and perhaps she was feeling the strain of the lengthy trip.

This was the first trip we'd been on, other than a couple overnighters to Yosemite… which were only about 500 milers.  When we got back on the road, I decided to take it easy on her for a while, even after we left the greater El Paso area (GEPA), and the road once again emptied for us, as we crossed the border into New Mexico. 

That reminds me of something cute(?) I forgot to tell you about.  On my way to Killeen, when I stopped for the night in Carrizozo, I saw a t-shirt in the MMGS in town.  It was a tie-die that said, "New Mexico… not really new, and not really Mexico."  I thought it was cute anyway.

I cruised at about 65 for about 10 minutes.  There, that should be enough.  I didn't want her to get lazy and think the trip was almost over… we still had the better part of three States to cross.

At about 9am we were going thru Las Cruces and I got bummed.  The wind was starting to pick up.  Maybe Peoria and the free room and board and loving smiles of Eron and her mom weren't in the picture for me after all.  I had already decided that if I didn't make it to the GPA as one of my overnight stops… I wouldn't stop there.

10:30am - Demming.  I was sleepy for the first time.  I decided to do something I normally didn't.  I stopped for food.  I remember wondering why I was choosing food over a red bull or something… food normally makes me sleepy… but for some reason, it felt like the right thing to do.

After a burger and shake I got back on the road and surprisingly… I felt refreshed and wide-awake.  I figured my drowsiness had a lot to do with the fact that I had been on a 4-lane freeway for longer than at any point on my trip, and that I was feeling as if I was stuck in a hypnotic doldrum.  Fortunately my route was gonna put me on Hwy 70, which was one of the favorite crooked little black lined roads on the map that Honey and I (and Alyson) were more comfortable on.

I haven't mentioned Ally in a while, have I?  She was continuing to be a wonderful passenger.  I think she was a little bummed when I turned her around and faced her backwards in her seat, but I was concerned because the severe cross winds had been catching her arms and legs and forcing her to ride sidesaddle and I figured it was a choice of safety first for my little green friend.

                                            Riding sidesaddle in the winds of West Texas

Lordsburg, Duncan, Stafford and Blyas.  These were my stops before reaching Globe.  I had decided to focus my energy on riding safely, and had stopped my efforts at meeting and talking to people every time I stopped.  I passed up three girls and a group of bikers who were trailering their show bikes to an event in Las Vegas.  But the thing that disappointed me the most was when I passed up the opportunity to hang out with some teenagers at a public park at the outskirts of Duncan.

There must've been about 15 of 'em, all on bicycles, riding around on a makeshift 'track'.  It would've been classic.  I stood outside the chain link fence, watching them… visualizing taking Honey thru the gate, and asking them if I could take her thru the obstacle course they had set up.

Even on a good day, it would've been a very difficult feat, but I wisely chose not to even consider it, being as tired as I was and knowing that Honey wasn't at her best either.  I had fun watching the movie I played in my head though.

When I reached Globe it was 4pm and I was pooped, but after I filled up Honey and was pushing her away from the pumps to park in front of the MMGS, I was still considering going the remaining 110 miles to Peoria.

As I went to get off Honey… I forgot to put down her kickstand… and as I was falling over, and trying to push myself away from her, so I wouldn't get squashed by her 800-pound body, I decided it would be a better choice if I went ahead and spent the night right there in Globe, rather than continuing on that evening.

I remember calmly saying out loud, "Oh shoot," as I was going over in slow motion.  Fortunately there was no one parked on my left, or I might've really hurt myself.  That would've been just great.  Pinned between Honey and a car, with a broken back.  That would've made a horrible entry in my journal.

Even before I got to my feet, two young men were offering to help me get my fallen horse up on her legs.  I remember trying not to act too self-conscious or embarrassed.  I remember saying something like… "Thanks guys, I'm normally much more graceful during my dismounts."

After readjusting Honey's left side mirror, and confirming that there was no damage, I slowly opened the left side saddlebag, to take a peek at my laptop.  I didn't see any apparent damage to the cardboard box it was in, so I re-secured the velcro straps, and crossed my fingers that it would fire up ok, after I checked myself into the nearest motel.

When I called Eron to tell her I wasn't gonna make it to her house that night, I omitted the details of my poor parking incident.  No need to give her any reason to worry about what kind of a toll the trip was (obviously) taking on me.

I comforted myself with a good hot comfort food meal of meat loaf and mashed potatoes at the restaurant next to the motel… verified the condition of my laptop… whew, it was fine… and don't even remember turning on the TV for company when I fell asleep. 

                                     465 miles for the day and 3,730 for the trip.

Please Allow Me To Introduce My Selves: DAY 12- 3k words

DAY TWELVE - Tuesday, November 4, 2008

It is not unusual for me to wake up five minutes or so before my alarm goes off, no matter what time it's set for.  I've noticed that I seem to be able to set my inner clock pretty easily over the last several years… another example of my savantically idiotic talents.  In any case… I awoke at 4:25am, turned off the alarm before it went off, and got up to start my day.  Brushed the sweaters off my teeth, started the coffee, and did my morning LSB Site post.  A routine I had become quite familiar with.

I was excited to get back on the open road with Honey & Alyson, but sad to be leaving the emotional warmth, comfort, and security I feel with Taumie and her Fam.  Sometimes I get sad because I'm not very close to my two brothers that live in the  same town as me, but when I'm with Taumie (or my sister Jackie) and their families, I feel happy that at least I have that feeling of true love, understanding, and total acceptance, which is to me… what family is supposed to be like.

Don't get me wrong, Bev, Don, and I totally love each other, it's just that neither of them is able to outwardly express it the way I need it to be expressed.  It's like food or water for me… nourishment for my soul.  I'm kinda 'weak' like that I guess.  I know I shouldn't be dependant on anyone else to make me feel worthy.  And it's not really like that… I'm having trouble expressing my feelings here…

Let me try to explain it this way:  Out of respect, I won't go into any details, but I can tell you that about 20 years ago, Donnie (my twin) was deeply injured, emotionally.  Ever since then, he has closed off a part of himself.  Although I have noticed a change   in the last few years, not coincidentally I'm sure… about the same time as he purchased his motorcycle… he has been more outwardly expressive with his feelings.

My older brother Bev is also the type who 'holds his cards tightly to his chest'.  I don't know if he was injured as well, but neither of them wears their heart where I do… on my sleeve.  Both of them have told me that they… and these are MY words, NOT theirs… both of them feel like they'd lose control if they allowed themselves to become outwardly emotional.  Whereas I, on the other hand, feel like I would explode if I didn't.  I know we love each other very deeply and truly, it's just that I get more of the emotion that I need from our sister's side of my family.

I'm sure it's the Mars - Venus thing… I've always said that I've felt more in touch with my feminine side than a lot of girls I know.  I am emotional.  I laugh loudly and fully, and I cry deeply and sincerely.  I inherited an empathetic aspect to my personality from my Mom… sometimes I can literally FEEL other peoples' feelings.  I call it a blessing and a curse.  In any case, there is a kind of absolute fulfillment that I get from being around my sister and her families that I do not get from my brothers.

That's still not an accurate description of what I'm trying to say, but if I'm gonna finish this story, I’m gonna hafta move on now.

Which is what I did.  Taumie and Brynn got up to give me their dose of white light protective energy for my ride back to the west coast.  Brynn even went outside and took my picture as I drove off.  About three miles down the road, I had to turn around and go back.  Fortunately I had remembered that I had forgotten to pack my phone charger.  As I walked back in the front door, I said something like, "I decided not to leave yet… you guys are gonna be stuck with me for another few days."

If I had said that to almost anyone else I know, I would've seen panic in their eyes.  I am aware that I am not the easiest person to live with.  I am very high maintenance.  Anyway… the reaction I got from Taumie and Brynn, who were sitting on the couch watching the morning news, was… without even looking up… "Oh, ok, that's great… you know you can stay for as long as you want to."

As I write this, I can still feel the way my heart felt.  Hugged, is the best word I can think of right now.  My heart felt like it was given a hug and an embrace of love.

I left again, and it was 8:05am.  Even with the delay, I was only five minutes behind the inconsequential departure time goal I had placed on myself.  First stop, Lampasas.  No Dairy Queen this time.  Gas and one last cup of coffee, even though I knew it would mean having to stop again sooner than my normal 60 miles or so.

Chelsee was working the counter at the MMGS.  She was a young pregnant girl with a friendly disposition.  I spent too much time there, but when her coworker Sandy, brought in a cake and invited me to sing 'happy birthday dear Chelsee', I couldn't refuse.  Chelsee was a real character.  The first time I asked her, she said she wasn't yet 21.  As I was leaving she said, with a totally straight face that she was 27.  When I was getting on my bike, Sandy came out to make a comment about Alyson, and when I said that I enjoyed my morning stop with them, and that Chelsee was cool, she mentioned that she was 23.  Whatever.  As per my standard protocol, it amused me, because… let's say it together… "I am very easily amused."

              sa- Chelsie & Sandy in Lampasas  (picture to be added)

I made it further down the road than I had expected, and stopped next at Rochelle, one of the many blink and miss it towns along Hwy 190.  That's the good news.  The bad news was that it was only (about) 10:30am.  I'd only made it 109 miles from Killeen, and I felt like a whipped puppy.  I'd heard about the winds in west Texas, but now I was getting an opportunity (opportunity !?!?!) to experience them.  I new they were gonna pick up as the day went on, and my shoulders and upper middle back muscles were already screaming to me that they were on fire.

I looked at my phone for the time, and realized I was without my Verizon Team Mates for the first time on the trip.  'This is strange' I thought… 'It's flat in every direction for as far as the eye can see… why no service?'  Oh well, the early pioneers traveled across these plains without cell phones, I suppose I could make it too.  It was slightly disconcerting however.

It's funny to me, how we have become so accustom and dependant on modern technology… how did we ever survive without things like microwaves, electric carving knives, and pulsating vibrating dildos?

Honey and I had been in strong winds before, but these were different.  I had guessed that they were gusting at about 25 to 35mph, but found out later, from a local, that they were blowin' at 40~60.  That, in and of its-self, isn't that bad, but the thing was that they were gusting from 0mph, and coming at me at exactly a right angle to the direction of my travel.  It would be totally calm one second and then WHAMMO!!  They would hit me like a mac truck, and I'd be headed for the gravel on the right side of the road.

They'd gust for two or three seconds and then instantly stop.  When the wind was hitting me, Honey had to lean way over on her left side, to stay in a straight line.  Then POOF!!  No wind and we'd be heading into the oncoming lane.  It was truly a test of my strength… reaction time… and riding ability, to keep Honey on the road.     I decided to make it a test.  Instead of getting upset, or feeling sorry for myself, I said, "Ok Ned… let's see what you got."  Turned out, I had the right stuff, but boy oh boy… it certainly was a test.

Besides the wind, the day also took a little out of me when I ran out of gas, coming into Iraan.  This time it wasn't my fault.  When I had tanked up at the previous available gas station… it was only about 125 miles to Iraan, which under normal conditions is well within Honey's range.  4.7 gallons @ 40mpg = 188 miles.  I'd gone 190 between her meals many times in the past.  Several times over 200.  I can normally gauge how many miles we have left, by doing some quick math, when I turn the valve to her reserve stomach.

Even though the wind was not a head wind, it was obviously taking its toll on Honey's food consumption.  When her main tummy emptied and I turned the valve, we'd only gone about 90 miles, which calc'd out at about 25mpg!                                                    

After I did the math, I did it again.  25 times 3.7… that's 3 times 25 is 75, plus .7 times 25 is 14 plus 3½, gives me a total of 75 plus 17½ comes to 92½.  I looked down again, and sure enough, my odometer showed 91 miles.  Honey was only getting 25mpg, and with only one gallon left and 35 miles to the next town… we had 10 miles of trouble in front of us.

Fortunately the highway had dropped down from the high open plateau, and was going down thru a huge canyon, which was protecting us from most of the wind, so I leaned forward and settled my chest down against Honey's tummy to lessen the wind resistance, making Honey and me slightly more streamlined, as to (hopefully) increase the mileage we were getting.  I was lucky… if we were still in the open, the wind gusts would've made it unsafe or impossible for me to assume this type of position.  I even pulled in the clutch lever and coasted down the hills.

My efforts came within 1.2 miles of succeeding.  Honey ran dry, and I coasted to the side of the road with the town of Iraan, and Honey's next meal, within sight.  Rats…   I knew I wasn't gonna leave my girls alone, and walk into town, and there was no way I should expect to get as lucky as I did back in Santa Anna, and only lose 45 minutes.  I was bummed. 

I was as tired as I'd been at any point on my trip (to that point), and my back and shoulders were almost numb from the constant pushing and pulling on Honey's reigns, keeping her on-line in the wind for the last six hours.  I dismounted Honey with my head held low, expecting to be there for hours.  It was around 2pm, and I'd only seen two cars in the last 50 miles or so.

I was wrong.  I saw Butch's vehicle coming from the distance on a dirt side road.  First as a cloud of dust, then as it followed his(?) driveway towards me, as a large pickup truck with a brown-skinned man in his 60's behind the wheel.  He drove right up to me and rolled down his window.  I had pulled off the road at the entrance to what was most likely the access road to his home, or perhaps his place of work.

What were the odds that Honey would run dry at someone's driveway?  What were the odds of someone coming down that driveway within about two minutes of me parking there?  With this kind of luck, I had no doubt that he had a can of gasoline waiting for me in the back of the truck.  I was half right.  He did have a can, but it was empty.

He offered to take me the short distance into town and return me to Honey with some gas, and this time I decided to take the chance of leaving my precious women on the side of the lonely highway alone.  I figured that if anyone happened to come along in the time we were gonna be gone, my luck was so good that they would probably know Butch and wouldn't think about stealing from one of his guests… or perhaps even wait there and guard the gals until we returned.

Butch was a Native of the area (I didn't write it down, and I've forgotten which Tribe he descended from), so he declined my request to take part of his soul.  And just like Ron (the other gentleman who helped me refuel in Santa Anna), he refused any reward or re-payment for the gas he used, or the time he spent.  God, I love Texas.

Janet and Lisa at the MMGS were sweethearts, and when I got back on Honey to continue my journey, I shook my head in disbelief.  It hadn't taken 45 minutes like the first time… this time I only lost 15 minutes… absolutely incredible.  Sometimes I'm embarrassed about how freaking lucky I am.  Clearly, I must have done some-thing really good in a previous life.  I sure don't remember saving anyone's life, or anything like that in this life.  Or… perhaps I've done enough little stuff in this life, to warrant a small gesture of thanks from the gods.  In any case, I do NOT take these acts of good fortune lightly.  I always remember to say my prayer of gratitude.

I only went 42 miles before my next stop.  This was now by far… physically… the hardest day of my trip.  It was still two hours to Van Horn, my goal destination, so I decided to stop in Fort Stockton instead.  It was only about 40 miles up the road.  No need to push it.  I would get home, when I got home.  The only deadline I had was being moved out of my house in Aptos by the 10th, and that wasn't even a real deadline, because the people who had bought my house said they would be happy to wait a couple extra days if I didn't return in time.

I think I forgot to mention that other good fortune event of the trip didn't I?  The day before Glenn called to tell me I got the doctor's office remodel job, John Flaniken my realtor, had called to tell me the closing of the escrow was imminent, and that the closing of the sale was going to happen on the 4th.  The move-out deadline was one week after that.  Today was the 4th, and I calc'd only a maximum of five driving days to get home, so you see… there was no rush, I had two days to spare, and the kindness buffer from the new owners to get the last of my stuff out… plus I didn't have that much stuff left in the house, only two or three truck loads, which I could easily handle in one day.  The sale meant that I was going to avoid a foreclosure on my mortgage from the bank, which lessoned 'the hit' I took to my credit score.

The only hitch in my upcoming abode relocation, was that I didn't know for sure where I was going.  Donna and I had hit another bump in our relationship just before I left, so I wasn't sure if her offer for me to stay with her still stood.  Boy oh boy… the road of our relationship sure is a bumpy one.

I think six or eight months is the longest we've ever gone, without some sort of falling out.  Some major, some minor, but we always seem to be splitting up, and then getting back together.  I've always said that our relationship is combustible.  I say that she's the fire and I'm the gasoline.  For example, I have two pictures, one on each side of my bed… on Donna's side is Marilyn Monroe, and on my side is the space shuttle blasting off.

When I stopped at Ft. Stockton, there were two motels to choose from and they were both 'high end' establishments with prices well over $100.  I had the cash, but for some reason I got a burst of energy, and felt like proceeding to Van Horn after all.

Even if I couldn't save any money, it got my motor running to know that even with all the trials and tribulations of the day, I was gonna succeed at the goal I set for my selves (to reach Van Horn).

One of my selves told me I was making a mistake… that there was no need to prove anything to anyone, and that I was showing off by pushing forward.  Then another one of my selves told me that I wasn't proving anything to anyone… that I was only having fun… just for me.  The argument with my selves didn't last too long.  Yes it did.  No it didn't.  Oh come on, you know it did.  Shut up, don’t' exaggerate.  I'm not exaggerating, you shut up.  Jeesh, sometimes my selves act like children.

Van Horn was the right choice.  I satisfied my childish test, and saved about $75.  All of my selves ate well that night, and all of us got a sound night's sleep.

                                      A 485 mile day, and 3,265 for the trip.