Blogging has proved to be more challenging than I had anticipated.  It's not the physical act of blogging, but trying to keep track and sort all the myriad thoughts that go racing through my brain while motoring down the road.  Some take root and I ruminate on them for hours, while others lie dormant and succumb to a lonely demise...

I'm in Lawton, Oklahoma, and I rode almost 400 miles to get here today.  I arrived in a somewhat foul mood, circling the city looking for food that did not at least remotely resemble fast food.  After seemingly hours (okay, it was closer to 25 minutes) I stumbled into a sports bar had a fine pulled pork sandwich and a nice Newcastle.

This will be a herculean, if not impossible task, but I've got to try to summarize events since I left Tupelo, MS on Tuesday morning.  Let's start there, shall we?

I left Tupelo at about 11:15AM, much later than I really do like to get on the road. I'd spent the morning, as you may recall, blogging, and I took full advantage of the 11AM check out.  Within minutes of exiting my motel, I was back on the incredibly beautiful Natchez Trace Parkway, with a destination in mind (yes, I know, I said no destination riding, but this one was within easy reach on the parkway...), a campsite at mile marker 54.5 on the Trace.  When I got on, I was near marker 280, so I knew a 240 mile ride at 55 miles per hour (this is a parkway, remember, no traffic lights, stop signs, commercial truck traffic, etc. - pure bliss with a posted speed limit of 50MPH).

The day's ride was one of the best of my life.  I was happy, relaxed, unhurried, and well fed.  All important components for a great ride.  The ride began well... and only got better!

As I was riding down the Trace, I became totally overcome with such elation that tears of joy were running out of my goggles...  For the first time in my life, I had to pull over to the side of the road because I couldn't see due to tear of pure happiness.  At the time, I was singing "American Tune" and as I sang "I dreamed I was flying", I felt as if I were literally flying.  It was a moment of pure and total euphoria (and those of you following on Facebook, may recall that in approx. 8 miles from the moment I experienced this elation, I passed by an exit sign for the town of Eupora (yes, I know the spelling is not the same, but close enough...).

Now, the trouble is, I am motoring down the Trace, a parkway with no shoulder - grass grows right up to the edge of the road - so I have to fight through these tears to find a safe place to pull over... The only places with shoulders are exits, exhibits, turn-outs, and bridges.  Since bridges are far more plentiful, I pulled over at the first bridge I came to, sat upon it, and documented the moment in my journal.  (I took a photo of the location to commemorate the event)

Ten minutes later, I'm pulled over at another bridge and I'm writing in my journal again!  This is the essence of what I meant when I decried destination riding and its attendant tunnel-vision riding mentality.  Today, I was going to ride, write, reflect, and revel in the experience.  The campground would still be there when I arrive (and, lo and behold, it was when I arrived at 6PM)!  I noted the irony of the town of Eupora, and jotted down in my journal, "No coincidences!!  We make our own reality -- I am the captain of my soul!"  Okay, that might be a tad melodramatic, but I was beyond exaltation at this point in time...

I reminded myself that we make our lives what we will them to be, regardless of: Social Status, Perceived Prejudices, History, or Habits...  This launched me into another line of thinking which I will politely reserve for the time being.

Another 5-10 miles, and another bridge later (that's three stops within 20 miles for those of you keeping score at home...) and I've been thinking about my students.  I activate my phone (I keep it on Airplane Mode most of the time to try and save my battery; I can't charge it when I'm camping) and at the moment in time (no coincidences!) I got a text from Tyler Mulvaney who tells me that he had been in bed and feeling under the weather.  He said he read my blog and felt so much better - and he began planning his own trip.  This is just one example of the type of feedback I've heard from my students...  Thanks, Tyler.  Your comments were very timely for me!

I began to think about dating (no, not you, Tyler), but of the online methods I'd tried and the artificial, forced, contrived situations that it creates.  For a long time I had told myself, "Do the things you love to do, and you will find others who love the same things that you do.  Wouldn't that be a good way to start a relationship?"  And I thought about how much I love the blues and that being in Clarksdale was no accident, and...  [I don't yet know where and... goes at this point, but I promise to keep you posted]

RULES OF THE ROAD:  (Continued)

In a previous post, I had shared a draft of my rules of the road.  As I was riding this day, I thought of a few more rules - albeit a little more mundane than those I've already shared...

1.  Make sure you pull your rainpants down far enough when you stop by the side of the road to relieve yourself.

2.  Always have a bottle of water on hand. 

3.  Try not get sunscreen in your eyes.

4.  Floating leaves are pretty, but they hurt as much as raindrops when they smack you in the face.

5.  Bungee cords are worth 10 times their weight in gold (thank you to my son for reminding me that you can never have too many...)

6.  To prevent shin contusions, watch out for the low-lying footpegs!!! 


The bungee cord comment reminds me of some successful field modifications that I've used to great benefit during my t rip:

A.  Bungee cords around the pant cuffs prevent cold air from blowing up the pant legs.

B.  Wearing your watch on top of your long sleeve shirt means you can actually see what time it is.

C.  A leather jacket secured to the T-Bag (yes, bungee cords) with it's sleeves inverted makes an excellent water bottle holder

D.  My nylon laundry bag containing socks and underwear is a fabulous pillow (simply cover with a tee-shirt)

Those are all the ones that come to mind presently, but there are countless decisions made on the road, and some are better than others ;)


Back to Tuesday (Yes, I'm still talking about Tuesday's ride, deal with it!)...

I saw a beautiful vista and I just had to stop and get a photo...  It was one of those days, after all.  I'd stopped no fewer than 10 times to write, photograph, hike, take a mental health break, etc.

As I pulled over to take the photo, I stopped on the side of the parkway (remember, this means grass unless as noted above).  I leaned the bike to the right, so I could throw out the kickstand to the left, aaaaaaand... the bike kept leaning right.   It leaned so far that it rolled right over on it's side and as it did so, I swear I heard it whisper, "Take that Bee-atch!"  I stood there momentarily, threw down my gloves in disgust and moved into place to lift the great beast.   Just as I did so, a gentleman pulled over to help.  "Are you okay, buddy?"  Yes, I said.  I'm getting ready to pick this thing up...  How is your back?  "Well," he says, "It's pretty jacked up... What do you want me to do?"  Just hold the handlebars and steady it when I get it upright (the last thing you want is to get so much momentum going the bike just flops over the other way).  Well, after some effort, the bike is erect and my Good Samaritan escapes unharmed.

We exchange pleasantries (I would have included his name here and thanked him, but then we had the following exchange...  Tell me if you would have published his moniker.)  He tells me he just left a funeral for an old hippie friend he'd known for 40 years.  He's got a catch in his voice and a lump in his throat.  I tell him I'm sorry and he tells me a little about the funeral...  "I'm standing there with my arm around a friend I hadn't seen in several years..."  I'm genuinely touched, as he continues...  "Yeah, I just texted her and said 'I really wanted to grab your ass!'"   Okaaaay... this is not where I envisioned this going, but okay, it's been a long time since he's seen her.  Then, "She's divorced, but I'm still married.  But my wife is leaving town this Thursday and all the whores I know, you need to plant you flag too deep in concrete, if you know what I mean..."  I feigned understanding and started the bike; the moment had clearly taken off in a direction that was somewhere south of 'poignant.'  [Later on, I think I deciphered what he meant about 'burying your flagpole in concrete.'  I think he meant, you might need to wear 7 or 8 condoms to avoid catching some horrific social disease, whereas his 'friend' was presumably somewhat cleaner, and therefore safer...]

Let's change the subject, please!

I made it to Rocky Point campsite and my neighbor, Bobby, was as helpful as could be.  I spent some time with his wife and their 88 year-old traveling companion, a World War II Veteran who had walked a 10K in each of the fifty states (joined by his departed wife).  I believe that he learned to do this in Germany, and it is called VolksWalking...    More on these lovely folks when I talk about my departure on Wednesday.  For now, a hot bubble bath is calling me after 400 gritty miles today.  Yes, I said a bubble bath!!!

Tuesday's soundtrack: 

I was 'Going to Jackson' again, as I was backtracking down the Trace...  (you can't go wrong singing Johnny Cash)
'Crazy Train' - Was Ozzy Osborne insinuating that I was crazy for backtracking some 400 miles just to accompany someone to dinner?
'Never Been to Spain' - Three Dog Night:  I think since I knew I was heading for Oklahoma...

I've never been to Spain, but I've been to Oklahoma...


I love you all...