"Saying Good-bye to BellaDonna"

DAY RIDE:

MOUNT TAMALPAIS

3/31/11

nedopdyke@gmail.com

About the Author

As with all my stories, this one is primarily for me. As I grow older than I ever dreamed I'd be, I've begun to realize that if I don't make an effort to document the important things about me… some of my thoughts… and some of the things that I believe are important about me, that there is a very good chance that after the people that have had the opportunity to get to know me are gone, so will I be.

I am the third generation in my family to be a residential general contractor. I have done nothing else in my life as a source of income. I always wished I could figure out how to make money off my charm and good looks, but alas… my innate sincerity has always kept me from being able to take advantage of people. As with the empathetic abilities I got from mother, I call it a blessing and a curse. I have always been very grateful of my parents for instilling a foundation of respect in me. I don't always make it obvious, but I really do care about people.

When I was a child, I decided I wanted to be different from everyone else. Something inside me told me that I was special. Most likely it was (and still is) my ego fighting back my human insecurities and self-doubts. Whatever the reason, it is my wish to be remembered. Mostly the good parts of me, but I also want to be remembered for all the different aspects of my personality. The good, the bad, and the ugly, as they say.

This story is written basically as a first draft, and as such, there will be rambling sentences, bad grammar, way too many commas, quotation marks, parenthesis, and past-present-future tenses all jumbled together, into the same paragraph, and sometimes even in the same sentence. I write as I speak… open mouth, insert foot. Usually I don't know what I'm gonna say, until after I hear myself say it.

For those of you who have not read any of my previous autobiographical action adventure stories… I will tell you… my stories are meant to serve three purposes:

(1) To allow me to express my own thoughts and feelings, for the selfish reason of my own self-awareness and betterment.

(2) I hope some of you will perceive it as gift to you, to be able to become more aware of your own thoughts and feelings, in such a way that you may also gain personal insight and therefore benefit in some way, within yourself.

(3) Simply for something to distract you for a while.

Although I have lived almost my entire life in this three dimensional world that we refer to as reality… I have also experienced brief moments in a completely different reality, and it is at these times when I feel most alive, nourished, and grateful to be alive.

I have chosen to use my three-dimensional adventures, out on the open roads of our Country, as a vehicle to travel into the inner realms of the vastness which exists inside each of us. Personally, I am most comfortable when I am exploring these regions of duality… the physical geography of the 

Country where my body thrives, and the emotional geography of my soul where my spirit resides.

The weather forecast was for temps along the coast to be in the low to mid eighties, and after several weeks of torrential rain and otherwise miserable conditions… I decided it was my duty, as sane unemployed motorcycle rider, to take advantage of this glorious Thursday.

I'd never been to the top of this particular mountain, and wanted to cross it off my list, so after a typical work out at the gym, I jumped on Honey and headed north on Highway 1.

Honey and I were both very happy to be back out on the road after so many weeks of virtual hibernation. It had been since last October since our last ride worthy of mention, and we were both smiling, me from ear to ear, and Honey from hand-grip to hand-grip... with the sound of her engine and her tires on the pavement singing a joyful song, that went directly to my heart.  The times I spend with her, out on the open roads of this Country, are some of the very best times of my life.

The ride north on Highway 1 was beautiful and uneventful. Perfectly calming and relaxing; just what I was hoping for. It wasn’t a crystal clear day, and the camera on my cell phone leaves a lot to be desired, but you can still get an idea of what the San Francisco Bay looked like when I got to the top of the mountain.

I made the two mistakes as I was leaving the parking lot at the top of Mt. Tam. I had a brief conversation with a bicyclist from Germany who was going to be in Santa Cruz the next day, and I didn't take her picture or ask her if she wanted my phone number. The changes in my personality that have been occuring over the last year or so, continue to amaze and astound me.

As I worked my way back down the road, I decided to take a short sidetrack and reconnect with Highway 1 in Stinson Beach. It would add only about 15 miles to the trip, but the added satisfaction of not retracing the section of the road I'd already traveled was well worth it.

The only bad thing about this decision, was that it made me remember the two trips I'd taken on that section of the road with my third ex-wife Donna. Letting her get away was perhaps one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made in my life. I will never forgive myself for hurting her the way I did. She will always be the true love of my life. The ride south, back to San Francisco, brought back powerful and melancholy memories of how I felt when I was with her.

Before recrossing the Golden Gate Bridge, I stopped and took another short detour, to visit an area I'd also never been to before. The Marin Headlands gave Honey a view of The Bridge and The City, from a very unique perspective.

Two young Chinese tourists, Jay and Chung, gave me some much appreciated attention and distraction, and helped me get myself back into a mood of good will and good fortune. Life is a beautiful gift, and although mistakes can be painful, I try to always be grateful for the opportunity to learn from them.

After working my way down 19th Avenue, through SF, I once again chose to take a different route to avoid backtracking, one of the sins I do my best to avoid whenever possible on my rides, no matter how long or short they are.

South on Interstate 280 about 20 miles to Woodside, and a quick stop at the Village Inn, to see if I could catch Melody getting set up for the dinner crowd. I was pleasantly surprised to see her eyes light up when she saw me; it had been almost six years since the last time we saw each other, and we had never had the time or opportunity to get to know each other as well as I would have liked. Yes, another big, beautiful blonde who had caught my eye and attention, several years ago. I used to be easy. Now, I look back on those times and just shake my head, wondering how I could have been so wasteful and wonton with my heart and pseudo affections.

After a few minutes of catch up with Melody, I excused myself and took off up the hill to Skyline Ridge and Alice's Restaurant; a semi-famous and ever-popular hang-out for bikes and bikers that runs 

the full gamut from casual cruisers, to weekend warriors, to hardcore racers.

I thought about going directly back down the other side of the hill to San Gregorio, but decided to pass up on Apple Jacks in La Honda, and instead, run the razor back of Skyline Ridge and then go down into Santa Cruz via Boulder Creek. Here's a pic I took of the not-as-famous pub in La Honda a few years ago. If you look close, you can see the 'custom' road sign on the left, warning the passer-byers to beware of the tree. It's a cocktail glass. Pretty funny huh?

One last stop above Palo Alto and Moffiet Field (to the right of this photo) to look back at San Francisco and Mount Tamalpais beyond.

I'd left Santa Cruz at 10am, and backed Honey into her garage at 6pm. A wonderful eight hours and just under 230 miles of beautiful refreshing air, time, and space. I always try to end my stories with a total letdown, so in keeping with that pattern…

THE END