wrapping up

Where are you from?

Had a hard time, given the bike trip started in San Francisco, but I'm headed home to WV but originally from Malaysia by way of Singapore. Almost always wound up with the long answer. There were a handful of times when the question was asked of someone else, like the cheery Texans I met in Laramie. Good to know I'm not the only one getting the “you're not from around here” look!

You are by yourself?

Next most popular question. Sometimes it seemed like I disappointed them, like they were perhaps hoping for better stories from my virtual riding buddy. I think most of the time they just thought I was a little nuts.

What kind of bike IS that?

Again sort of a fumbly response as I try to gauge the interest in Buell history. From the riders, the response had largely been either “I always wondered...how do you like it?”. I was minimally shunned by the chrome brigade. Up until I got to Vintage Days, I saw a total of 4 Buells (discounting showroom specimens).

Oh cool/neat/great...how much time do you have off?

Fairly binary response here, it was either 'wow' or 'that all?'

On young adults

Met a young fella in Milwaukee who'd been summoned home from Miami Beach by his dad to take on a 'real' job. To my surprise he took his runner/detailer job with seriousness and more than a dash of enthusiasm. I was impressed. The young lad parking cars at the ferry was less than thrilled by his summer job, for which I tried to encourage him. The young lasses in the diner at Escalante were intent on out-texting each other. The family run Pronto Pups in Grand Haven delivered hot corndogs between giggly ribbing amongst themselves. I'm confident our future is bright.

On being prepared

Though the trip had been years in the making, the specifics of the route had been somewhere been loosely to totally unplanned. I'm severely at risk of overplanning and am quite happy that it was the throttle body that stranded me and not some pipsqueak-itty-bitty-if-you-only-had-duct-tape problem that could have been MacGyver'd. Oh yeah, I feel vindicated.

On being unplugged

Never plugged in the MP3 player. The GPS died for good in the downpour leaving Kalispell yet there is relief in being liberated from it. It felt like the counter on your treadmill. ( I did buy another unit...unsuitable but just in case). I wore no watch. The phone was demented. The length of shadows told me how much longer I could ride and if I was desperate, I 'd get a receipt from the gas-pump.

On equipment

I used my heated jacket, chill vest, ibuprofen, sunscreen. I wouldn't leave again without the skin-so-soft. The Spot messenger worked as designed, even inside the Budget truck. 300 miles in the rain at 80mph is no environment for shim-sham raingear, my Walmart rainpants worked flawlessly.

On running out of gas

Not that the subconscious seeks an excuse for an adventure, but I certainly tried my best. I coasted into Babb on fumes, into a closed gas station in Echo with 16 miles on the reserve tank and thankfully was spared the opportunity to push the bike.

On lessons learned

The rain is good stuff, it cleans your bike of bugs. It also cleans the livestock truck full of piggies ahead of you.

On meeting old friends

I hadn't seen Felix or Lay Kian in 25 years, Sandeep and Kashmira 5. I regret waiting as long. Gentle reminders of who we are and perhaps that's enough.

On making new ones.

Not the easiest thing when you're a two-wheeled hobo at lightspeed. I had sworn off dating for a while, but it did not take long to find good reasons not to. Gobs of solitude assure no scarcity in introspection. Everywhere I found good people. Truthfully, although I liked Brian (at the Albert Lea Budget truck station), I was a little nervous when I got there with Mark. Guilty of judging by the cover, I was so very wrong the next day when his dad, Jon, took care of me above and beyond what Budget would have blithely charged my credit card. This lesson I should not forget.

On friends back home

Without them, the trip would have never happened. What can I say? Thanks!

Things I heard, that stuck in my head

“I'm going to get married like six or seven times, the bride is the center of attention” (my northern Arapaho-an beer buddy)

“Your skin is so soft? … oh you wear a helmet” (Michelle from the HD factory)

“You're not Canadian?” (Amber from Toronto)

“You should move here!” (yall know who you are)

On being alone

The Myers-Briggs tests weren't too wrong after all. I'm an introvert indeed, at no point had I no desire to strike up a conversation with the duck. Caterwauling at 90 down Utah highways does not count.

Touch

Well, that magic that was performed on me mid-journey in Bozeman. To Hillari, thanks for stabilizing the neck until the South Dakotan crosswinds whipped them into submission.

Smells

Whizzing past lavender fields in southern Utah. The whiff of pine trees that reminded me of Christmas morning as I crossed the continental divide in Montana. Wonderful.

Sounds

My Buell running after Tim and Dean brought her back to life, magical. Kids squealing in pleasure while they wind-surfed atop the high speed ferry across Lake Michigan. Total and utter silence as the light faded in Goblin Valley, Utah.

Sights

Everywhere in Yellowstone was evidence of the forest fires of 89, but just as evident, were all the re-seeded pine trees. Mother nature is pretty amazing.

Running down 189 in Wyoming, I saw two cranes hovering in the wind while the third (like I) looked on in disbelief. Someone told me “If the winds stopped in Wyoming, people would just fall over”

On newfound pleasures

Chasing trains. I really enjoy it. My first experience was coming down a mountain (somewhere along the trans-Canadian) and seeing a train running along the river far, far below. Before long I was racing alongside, over a river before passing it short of a tunnel. Fun. I had more opportunities and never passed one up. Try it sometime.

On smart-alecky people

My sun-worshipping Calgarian, 4-smartie friend, Adrianna. You're not easily forgotten!

On the 'wave'

I do not easily tire of this … think of it as 'peace be with you' at the end of mass...just on a high-speed-multi-mile radius.

On the risks involved

The two fellow bikers I met at the Aero Hotel in Kalispell (Dick and John, I think) were retired insurance salesmen. Dick laughed as he said “ I used to tell people not to motorcycle because it was dangerous”. None of us believe the danger is any less today.

On adventure

It is odd, but while you're in it....it seems perfectly normal. Everyone around you seem

to make a fuss. Like getting wet in the rain, it only matters until you get wet. Once there...well you're there. Only now, off the bike and in familiar surroundings does it feel like twas an adventure.

On mother nature

Lest we take ourselves too seriously, there were plenty of reminders to help keep things in perspective. Beauty sculpted through ages, not crafted by Madison Ave, everywhere. As a true Libran, I capped the trip off with a weekend of mechanical mayhem at a vintage motorcycle meet.

On serendipity

Release the grip on plans. Eject the GPS overboard. Paper maps are swell. Just as I was wrapping up the trip, my steed decided the adventure wasn't quite over.... and decided to die. That led to a string of encounters and experiences far beyond what I had prematurely dismissed as the long-ride-home.

On getting help

Not sure if I did anything to deserve it but like Gail said, I was blessed with good karma. There were times I needed help, and there it was. There are good people out there.

On idyllic moments

Surely I'm kidding right? Isn't this some long vacation? Yes, but the insidious invasion of lists, schedules and GPS destinations is ever present. Slot-car racing with Sandeep and Ehsan, slowing down for lunch by the Grand Tetons or spending the morning drinking coffee and uploading pics at the co-op in Bozeman or just shooting the breeze with those boys from Rhode Island; now that's the stuff of memories.

On missing home

From Rocky who saw the country with his dog, to Mark who found Colorado not-nearly-cold-enough or Hillari who saw the world but returned, I think I understand now as I've finally come home.

On advice offered

Enjoy it, it is really all that cool. Try not to underestimate the moment. Fight being a scenery snob. Pull over, take it in ....without the camera. SMILE

On advice received

I should've listened more closely.

On these serious economic times ….and taking a month off.

People were happy for me, even enjoying a moment's escape from everyday stresses by indulging in my little trip. I do not take lightly this opportunity, even if it has taken a long time to get here.

On passions

Everywhere I was reminded of people and their passions. From motorcycling, to my Armenian cabbie and his dream of success, teaching here, constant learning there, children frequently and sheer professional joy elsewhere. If there was some unofficial theme to this trip, I'd say meeting people to discover their passions would be it. It is such a comfort to know that we are not all soul-less, 'big box' shopping, chain dining, drones. The best parts of this trip have been the people. Passionate people are addicting.

On memorable events

That night in Laramie. I wouldn't have been there had I camped in Goblin Valley. A fellow biker offered two pieces of advice; no rooms in Cheyenne (the rodeo is in town) and get off the road soon (loads of auditioning roadkill). So I wound up in Laramie, looking for supper at 930. No luck in the first establishment, was going to have a beer and venture forth. Then the cowboys showed up and shortly thereafter the indians and the environmentalists. Some of them were putting in windmills in Wyoming and I'd bet you guess wrong. It was an evening that left stereotypes in tatters and I loved it. There are many, many good reasons to want to be an American. That night in Laramie eliminated any remaining doubt.

On being a tourist

I play one really well. Yet, there were times I grew weary of 'my kind'. The nice thing about fellow tourons though is that we take that magic pill that imbibes us with 'what happens in Vegas' attitude. Freed of our self-imposed constraints, getting past meteorological chit chat is, practically, effortless. It is 'getting to know you' on steroids; equally meaningful, just less static.

On physical limits

Fortunately this occurs automatically. I do better with cold than heat and long days in the saddle assure restful sleep. Thankfully I had no aches from the back or wrists (other than those self-inflicted). Midway into the trip in Bozeman, what seemed like an indulgent massage at the time I now chalk up to one heck of an idea. The rebuilt knee? Never better.

On chow

I ate far too many burgers but had a really good one in Wilderville, Or. Chowhound is helpful as always, but so is local intel and don't forget to trust your nose. The schnoz led me to the Pickle Barrel in Bozeman! Great food in Vancouver is to be expected but who'd have thunk I'd find good bulgogi in touristy-frat-boy Banff?

On keeping up with notes

I failed in this respect and sometimes procrastinated updating the journal. Yellowstone was the prime example and not only did details evaporate, I wound up consuming much of the subsequent days torturing myself (while on the move) with attempts to remember. So what happened to the experience of those days then? Ah the angst!

On motorcycle roads

• Stewart Skaggs Road from the coast to Lake Sonoma.

• Bits of trans Canadian 1, which bits? I dunno

• CA1 from Mendocino north

• 199 into Oregon

• US12 out of Bryce

• 125 north from Gandy, Co

On traffic

Hate it.