Random Thoughts

Ok, here’s my report.

Small grips do not suck.  Granted, I was born with fat digits more designed to grip backhoe levers and rip out tree stumps rather than do detailed work like build watches, or play operation: the wacky doctors game.     I ain’t bitching.     That being said, I like the smaller grips.  It makes a touring bike seem more nimble and precise.   It’s the comfort of a street glide, with the grips of a sportster.   I vote yes.

Hey, that reminds me of a joke.

Q: Do you know what you call a lesbian with fat fingers?

A:  “well hung”

Ok, who cares.   I’m starting to think now tho, that maybe I won’t do texas next weekend.  I may ride to bisbee, and the OK Corral.   I think perhaps an Arizona trip is in order.    I so love AZ, and i’ve never been to to those places.

Anyone wanna go ride with me to the OK Corral?

Love this song.   It’s one I put on the ipod for about every long ride I go on.   It just always seems to fit wherever I’m riding.

Need new grips for my bike.  The return cable no longer stays attached.

Funny thing, it was a ride that before my bike blew I wouldn’t even consider a ride.   I think tho, to alot of my friends who ride it woulda been a ride they’d considered big.    Either way, It felt good to me.

Yesterday robyn and I headed out at 8 to go check out a house we’re thinking about renting.   Great big house, for the same price as what we pay here.    It may or may not happen.

Then, we rode to the dealership, grabbed 4 quarts of oil and a filter, then boogied off to our BACA chapter child ride for the month.   Child ride seemed like a good stretch to finish my break in on my engine:  some freeway, some highway, some around town.   We did that, and I went home and changed my oil.

Loco showed up right after and we rode to the firehouse, then over the  utah hill.    Had a few beers at the dam bar with a few friends, then I headed south.   Love my brothers, but damn…. I needed and still need some solo time in the saddle with my bike.

Man, I’m looking for something in life right now.   I’m looking for some peace to be honest.   I’m looking to find my way again, my inspiration.   I need a muse.  I know where it is:  its sitting in my garage right now.   I don’t know shit from shinola, but the last 20 years have taught me one thing:   great answers come from long rides.     Its been the reset button for my life.  It’s better than any religion or baptism that I’ve ever known.    It’s been true, and its been proven to me.   I love the open road.

I’m gonna put 500 miles on this bike so I know I can trust this engine, then I’m heading the hell out of town for a real ride.   I need one.    No doubt, I’ll come back a new man.

Picked her up yesterday around 2:30.    She feels faster.   Engine sounds tight.    Jerry did a good job.      Rode around last night with a huge smile and the stereo full blast.   Child ride this saturday, then I dump the oil.   Can’t wait.

My bike is done.   Waiting for the phone call to go pick it up.   Man, I can’t hardly hold a thought in my head.  All I can think about is riding her again.

I’m waiting any day now. my camera is ready, my bags are already packed, and my route is planned. I just don’t have my bike yet. Tomorrow? I hope? Friday? I honestly don’t know.

Maybe you don’t know what I’m talking about.   Maybe touring is not your idea of a good ride.  Thats cool.   To me, it *IS* riding.   Of an 15 hour a day, 3 day ride, this is what its like for me:

1. first 2 hours, are nothing but stress like any other day.   wondering if I forgot anything, if I am gonna hit rain, if I’ve abandoned my family or if something is going wrong at work.
2. next 2 hours I realize that I’m actually heading somewhere.   My senses come back.   My feet are up on the foot pegs, and I swear to god theres a tiny hole in my boots where my problems and my life stresses are dripping out.
3. next 2 hours its dusk, and I’m getting excited.   It’s still a friday or a thursday night.   I’m feeling alive again.   I start to notice the evening stars and The smells of the road.  Music sounds better.   Starting to feel alive again.
4. I hit my hotel room or pitch my tent, with a new point of view.   Tomorrow, the world is fucking mine.  MINE.   I’m gonna see what there is too see, and my watch isn’t worth looking at because time has slowed down and doesn’t matter.
5. I wake up, with the cold air on my face, and the day at my feet.   Every decision now is a good one:  Do I eat at the local coffee shop, or quick mart?  There are no wrong answers.   everything is an experience now.    I have all day.   Tonight, I’ll be even further from home.   Load the bike, and get on with it.     Its all good.
6. I ride all day.  I feel my wits and my senses come back.   I know, worse case scenario that If I have to I can not show up to work till tuesday morning, or make 1k miles on a ride home.   Maybe I’ll be back monday at noon.  It’s not going to screw up today.
7. Toward saturday at around 4pm, I make more decisions about my day.   I’ll live by them.  I hit my camp by dusk, set my camp, drink a nip of scotch, call my wife and tell her my philosophy or description of my day.  by this point, I’m a new man and I miss her and my kids.   I’m looking foward to seeing her.
8. sunday morning, I head home.   no matter how far away that is.

Cheap therapy for about 6 tanks of gas, a sleeping bag and a love of the open road.   You tell me what else can do this, and I’ll kiss your ass.   After 42 years of life, I haven’t found it.