Riding for hours and hours, the subconscious tends to work while the conscious is busy controlling the motorcycle, time and space. Sometimes it locks onto something and nudges the conscious, 'Hey buddy, I got something important for you.'
Two days ago it knocked as I rode, cold and soaked to the skin. I have loose ends.
From my previous life there are bills and debts and loans. The reason is unclear completely, but my subconscious tells me that these loose ends must be tied up before I move on. To be clear, after the 'dark times' were over, I owe nearly $20,000 not counting my motorcycles. That is a chunk.
Through the recent years I have learned to trust my subconscious, my gut. Not going to question it, just follow the lead.
Now it is a matter of how to accomplish this task, and in short order too. I need to get past this.
Oh, and I don't gamble or strip so MegaBucks and male pole dancing is out of the question. LOL
There it is. A singular road sign on a well trodden path pointing off to the right where fresh two lanes lead off into the woods.
What is there? Maybe nothing but a lane into another frustrating Orwellian housing complex. Maybe an uncompleted asphalt stub only leading to a dead end. Maybe there will be soaking cold rain along the ride. Maybe you will go broke. Perhaps it will be straight and perfect and a little boring.
But just maybe there will be mountains and twisties and sweepers and sights and sounds and scents never before experienced. Just maybe. Can you resist? Even the detractors and expense, the possibility of getting soaked or being bored add to the adventure. The possibilities and chances tumble in your mind as the exit comes closer.
Well, the route is set. Athena has a new set of grips, fresh oil and short of a minor 'Harley Leak' she is ready. I need to take care of some bills, pack and I will be ready.
Right now, the route is pretty solid but may be changed slightly depending on traffic, time, weather and a host of other things. But, here it is, in order of travel. If anyone wants to meet up, let me know. I plan on spending a few days in Pensacola and a few in Burlington, NC. Other than that, it is road-time, baby!
My last little jaunt across the continent was well prepared for compared to this one. For the past month things in the Razor household and life in general has been nearly non-stop.
It has been a very good form of busy, so no complaints at all.
Trip preparations have unfortunately suffered. I may have moved more than a month ago but still can't find my tools! So, the oil needs to be changed and grips replaced as soon as I find them, before I leave.
Then there were unexpected costs not associated with the trip. Alas, about 50% of the trip fund has been drained. With enough money for gas, a few nights of hotel stay and a few meals, planned departure is this Saturday, October 17 at 6AM.
I mentioned in my previous post that live trip reports would be posted on FaceBook. Here is my FB Page for those interested. Join up. This should be an interesting ride.
Luckily, I have places to stay in Oklahoma City, Pensacola and Burlington. The rest will be cheap motels and any couch I can rustle up.
Oh, and that feeling of adventure hit me this morning. That "what in the hell am I doing," thought was nearly as palpable as a rock wall. Honestly, between us (keep it hush-hush) I nearly threw my cards in after looking at the bills. But why? I thought? Why fold now?
There is adventure out there to be had. I deserve it. There are two close friends on the other side of the continent I promised to visit this year. The route is simple. My saddle is comfortable even after 600 mile trips. I can pack my food for the most part. I am not folding. The hand has just begun and I am all in.
Well, money will be tight. The riding will be hard to minimize hotel stays. Food will mostly be protein and granola bars, fruit I can bring along and maybe something from hotel lobbies. But, I am doing it.
Sure, I could save the money to pay down a loan I have. But this ride is just something that is necessary. Something inside that must be expressed through the art and beauty of a moving motorcycle on asphalt.
So, here is a rough itinerary...
Saturday - Vegas to Albuquerque, NM - 570 miles.
Sunday - Albuquerque to Oklahoma City, OK - 545 miles
Monday - Oklahoma City to Pensacola, FL - 900 miles
Tuesday - Relax on the beach.
Wednesday - Relax on the beach.
Thursday - Relax on the beach.
Friday - Pensacola to Burlington, NC - 680 miles
Saturday - Relax
Sunday - Relax
Monday - Relax
Tuesday - Head Back to Vegas - 2280 miles
Wednesday - Back to Vegas
Thursday - Back to Vegas
Friday - Arrive back in Vegas on Friday Night.
In case of weather or unexpected delays, there are two emergency days. This is going to be fun.
To keep the load lighter and less complex, the computer will stay at home. But, I WILL be posting updates via my cell phone onto my FaceBook account. For those who wish to track my progress across the country, as boring or exciting as it might be, add me there. Just log onto your account (or create a new one) and look for Ken Linder and add me. I am the one in black leathers standing in front of my Sportster.
Safe travels, please. We lost a rider this weekend.
Sometimes I feel the need to express my thoughts and feelings through someone else's music or pictures or words. And, well, this is one of those times. This song is played regularly on B.A.C.A. Nation and it is indeed a powerfully good tune. But the video? All I can say is, DAMN!
After a wonderful evening hanging out with Angela Shelton and the B.A.C.A. Nation folks I battled the Las Vegas winds to ride home. Made it safe and sound but with a few frayed nerves. The wind was nasty and unpredictable.
So, I go into the apartment to have a beer, check e-mail and unwind. My daughter, Ed (long story) left me a note to check around for her cell phone. I do.
Not in the apartment from what I can determine.
Maybe the pickup. I open the garage door and walk out. My pickup is parked right around the corner and at midnight or so, there is no one around but myself. So, I leave the door open. Stupid me.
I walk around the corner and check my truck. Nope. Not there. As I close the door, four teenagers (or maybe on their early 20's) walk around the corner. Two guys and two girls. The guys have helmets and are joking around. "HA, here is my Xanax money" or something to that effect.
Initially I think little of it. There are many dirt bikers here and I just thought they were clowning around with their helmets.
Something wasn't right. It hit me. I sprint to my garage around the corner. Helmets are not there.
Cell phone. 911.
I run back to the car they got in. They are leaving. I point my finger at them. 'They had better stop. Those are MY helmets!'
Instead they nearly run me down to speed away.
Folks. If you steal, don't do it from bikers. The cops have their license plate and the word is out to watch for my helmets.
If I see them, I have a few four letter words for them. Plans must be changed now. I was going on a charity run tomorrow morning for a Pediatric Brain Tumor organization. Can't now. I will need to spend $100 or more of my money for a new helmet rather than having that for my trip.
Normally I am very laid back. I am not laid back now. I am pissed.