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Last updated Sun Oct 15, 2006 Member since January 2006

Motorcycles and Mayberry!! June 23...--> Click here

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Braves Baseball and Vulcan 750 Motorcycles! & family, work, and the occassional poltical thought.

Gomer's Gathering
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Wow... so much packed into 5 days.

Ride there was HOT beyond belief, but was made tolerable by the company. Snowman and I left his store only 5 minutes after our planned departure time at 0500 (a big accomplishment for me). Of course, I was still remembering things that I forgot to pack, but that's normal. I'd have never captured it well enough, but wish I could have gotten a picture of the sunrise in your rear-view mirror, riding through the mountains of SW VA.

Surprisingly, all of our meet-ups with other folks along the way went fairly well. SO many factors involved, I figured there was bound to be some minor problems. Hill-Billy (aka "Not-So-Wild Bill") had arrived at the first meeting spot just a few minutes before we pulled in. BEVA had looked at the map (something I had not done) and figured out that since he was already west of Knoxville, it would make no sense to back track east, meet up with us at Kodak, TN and then re-cover the same miles around and through Knoxville. So there was a voice mail when we got there saying he would see us in Cookeville at the next stop. Of course if I had done that to begin with, BEVA could have left an hour later!

Met up in Cookeville with Ron, BEVA, and Brian (BEVA's riding podna from New Orleans). From there it was a short convoy to the Nashville 'burbs and Casa de Grambo. Bit of excitement on the interstate as we encountered a blown recap. BEVA was leading and tried to stick his leg out to warn us, but he was in his van <G>.

As promised, the hospitality at the Grambo manor was gracious. Half-dozen parched riders descended on Melinda's kitchen and enjoyed a great lunch. Grambo, you and Melinda went to way too much trouble but it was greatly appreciated.

Grambo led us around Nashpatch to avoid downtown traffic. That was the good part. Unfortunately that also meant a dew stoplights where we could sit and watch the pavement melt in front of us. Bank thermometers read 103º. We did pass a church that had a thermometer message board and it said only 98º, but I think they were measuring the temperature in Hell.

Arrived finally (about 540 miles from when we started)! Some quick sweaty hugs and hellos. The only open cabin was Cabin 12, which actually is the only one (other than the Teton) with central air. Some quick negotiations and the Cabin 5 group was moved over there. Raisn, Snowman, BEVA, Snort, and KM/Evey are great roommates.

Dinner Wednesday -- Somehow the 4 Pigs resturant got a shirt just like mine and made curtains out of it! (or else Big Dog stole the resturant's curtains and made my shirt out of it). Bison burgers were good, but not "wow". Definitely coudl tell they were processed and frozen. Shoulda tried the bison steak (next time!).

The first group ride was for Thursday morning. After the long ride and the temps north of 100, my plan was to skip the group ride and just make a short early-morning, one-tank ride up the road. I wasn't thinking group ride (since my intent was just straight up, look around, straight back, with no stops en route -- hard to do with a group), but would welcome a couple of folks if any wanted to ride along. But as Thursday morning dawned, I found sitting on our veranda sipping coffee with my roomies about as good a place to be as any. Arty stopped by about 8:15 and reminded me that I was going to leave at 8. Since I was still in my sleep pants, it was apparent I was not just about to leave. Told Arty I was skipping any ride and would try again on Friday, so he elected to go on the big group ride. I ASS-U-MEd he had told the other folks that were waiting on me, so I got another cup of coffee and visited. Heard the big group pull out, and about 10 minutes later, someone (forget who) pulled up and let me know there were 4 or 5 guys that were geared up, sitting on their bikes, and waiting for me! So it was a quick gear up and fire the bike up. With my roomies included, we now had about 7 for the journey.

Rode up to the Cave-in-Rock ferry on a simple "stop-sign-optional" route<G>. We were about a third across the river when we saw another group of bikes at the landing on the KY side. I asked the ferry man if he had brought a group of bikes over before us and he had not, so we guessed it might be the 'main ' group. A little squinting and I recognized Jason's bright red ST. I waved to try to attract their attention and gave them a unique salute, but apparently none of them saw us. When we reached the other side we found some shade to await the other group. After a quick hello, we headed on to the Cave-in-Rock state park. A bathroom break and a quick tour of the cave and we were ready to head back. If Beavis and I want to be in group pictures, we need to learn to run much faster!

With the late start, and the time spent waiting on the main group to cross the river, we were now at lunch time. Originally my plan was to be back at the cabin by lunch but since I had kept the group waiting for me, it was easy to accede to Doug's request for a lunch stop in Marion. Really nice waitress and the ice tea was mighty cold. After lunch, bike fired right up and we rode back without incident, except I missed a turn near the dam and we went a little out of our way. So we added a gas stop in Draffenville. After filling the tank, I turned the key and Temptress barely turned over. Thought it might just be the heat getting to my battery. We push-started the bike and started the last 10 miles home. It was then I noticed on my voltmeter that I wasn't getting more than 10.5 volts. Not good.

Made it back to the resort, where with the help of Flash, Chad, Beavis, JD and others, confirmed my stator was shot. The R/R plug was about 1/6 chewed up by corrosion. I replaced my stock battery with a MF back in fall '03, but it sure looked like I must have had an acid spill before that. Kick my butt for not looking closely at the R/R plug in the last 4 years. At any rate, we started brain-storming options. I had (or so I thought) an extended warranty so if I could just get it to a dealer, they would replace it for me. Called all the dealers within 50 miles and no one had a stator in stock. And even if there were, none were moved by my sob story of being stranded 500 miles from home, at least not enough to say they would work me in on Friday if I found the part (and this was BEFORE I mentioned the warranty and they were looking at getting an $800 labor job.

So thoughts turned to how I could get the bike to a dealer and me home. Lot of good suggestions from folks, including several that involved very kind offers of assistance. Among others, Ron offered to let me drop him off in Cookeville and drive his truck all the way home with the bike on the back. If I could bet the bike to Nashvile, Grambo offered me his truck and trailer for as long as I needed. I think this speaks volumes for the quality of people in this group. We started narrowing it down to having one of my adult kids, or Snowman's wife, driving my SUV over to Nashville so we could put the bike on Grambo's trailer and haul it home. Threw in some groceries with some folks from the Teton for a nice dinner, and joined in on the pickin' and grinnin' til late in the evening.

As I drifted off to sleep, started having a nagging thought as to whether my extended warranty was 5 years or 4 (meaning it ended 3 months ago). By morning, that nagging thought was a raging doubt. So I borrowed a laptop (having WiFi at the resort was great!) and looked it up. The warranty was only 3 years so I have been out of warranty for over a year! Dianna and JD both had spare stators they were willing to sell me if I wanted to replace it with the help of the group. Besides the cost involved, I don't know of any better Vulcan experts than those surrounding me, so decided to dig in and Just Do It ©. Bad thing was I had lost Thursday evening and a couple of hours Friday morning when I could have at least been stripping parts off.

The resort actually offered us the use of any of the screened in porches on the cabins we were using. The only one that didn't have steps was Cabin 5 that we had given up and was now occupied by someone who wasn't with the group! There was another cabin that had a raised deck and we set up a great shop in the shade. Actually Larry set up the shop with a great home made lift he had on his trailer and an industrial strength fan.

I think almost every single person pitched in something to this project. I hate to start mentioning names because my sun-fried brain will leave someone out. Larry, Lzzrd, Beavis, JD and Snowman in particular went way beyond the call in helping me get the bike apart and back together right. Probably 20 people turned a wrench on the project. Several other folks made parts runs (no small feat since the nearest parts store or Walmart was 15 miles away). Some of the consumables (like oil filter) were provided by folks who had brought them for the raffle (I had only one ticket with my name pulled at the drawing, but I figured I 'won' my prizes before the drawing began, and just had to make sure I bought enough tickets to cover my prizes! Couple of different folks helped document the project so that Beavis and I can edit together an 'instructional' video to post to the files section (and give Dianna another chance to tell someone to look there!).

If I had tried this at home (and I probably wouldn't be confident in my wrenching skills to even try), it would have taken me weeks. The group got it done in about 8 hours total. Might have even been less. We saved a lot of time on disassembly and assembly since 2, 3 even 4 people would be working on it at the same time. But we slowed down at some points so that everyone could take a look at something (like the inside of a stator cover!). And after we had everything apart, we stopped to let Beavis and Duece cut the new gaskets. They could have been doing that while were disassembling except I didn't let Beavis get too far away while I was stumbling through the process!

To everyone who pitched in some way or another, THANK YOU is wholly inadequate to express my gratitude but it's the best words I can come up with.

We got the bike about 85-90% put back together on Friday. It was getting late and if I was tired, there were a couple of folks who had to be exhausted. Jason said I chased the folks away and he wasn't kidding. With dinner cooking on the grill, there were folks who were still working on the bike and willing to stay on it until it was finished.

After cleaning up, it was over to the Teton for the group meal, and then it was movie night. I had not seen Wild Hogs so it was a treat (pretty funny movie). A few adult beverages and some enlightenment at the foot of our MC Buddha (Starr) who had driven straight from work (340 miles away).

Got up early Saturday to finish the assembly. Beavis actually got a little PO'd with me because I didn't wake him up at 6 am to come work with me! And he was serious! Fortunately he came along shortly because there weren't too many more things I knew where they went! We went ahead and removed some of the emissions crap. Finally about 11 it was all back together, battery charged, fluids filled. Fired right up to the cheers of the crowd. Still in shorts and t-shirt, I rode a few laps around the resort for a test ("we did hook that brake cable back up didn't we?"). Satisfied that everything was hooked up, it was time for a shakedown ride. Picked up about 6 wingmen (one wingwoman) for a little out-and-back ride down the Trace.

In the parking lot of the Welcome Center they have a little brick outhouse. The parking spot next to it had a large sign saying "15 minute time limit". That just struck me as hilarious so I had to get a picture.

Others have and will post about Saturday night's dinner; not much more I can add to that. After the official group picture, we got another group foto with the repaired bike and the bad stator. That one gets printed 8x10 and goes on my garage wall. I took the right side cover of my bike and had all the folks who pitched in on the bike sign the inside of it with a paint pen. Have to autograph that work of art! I think Lzzrd has a picture of the signed cover.

Maybe it's a bike thing, and there are ST1100 groups or Honda Shadow groups where the cameraderie is as great as in this group. And there are no doubt smart and generous riders in clubs or groups out there. But I am convinced that for whatever reason, some of the finest people on two (or 3) wheels have found there way to the Vulcan 750. And I feel so incredibly blessed to have found and be a part of this group. Maybe Jangles (zhan-GLAIS) can get a research grant to study the psychology behind this -- does owning and riding the 750 make the people this way, or is there some reason a predominant number of these folks wind up riding the Vulcan?

Sunday morning began with a brief devotional service on the beach. I had the idea a week or two ago that it would be cool to have a little service since many of us were missing our normal Sunday morning services back home. I asked Ron and Pick about it and they had the same thoughts. Ron graciously agreed to lead the service (and didn't even ask a love offering!). Raisn and HillBilly provided the music with an assist from Larry and some croaking frog. It was a very nice moment.

Our idea was to leave shortly after the service (about 7). It would be Billy and Snowman with me on the road home. We (mostly I) was behind on packing, at least getting it on the bike.

The ride home seemed to take forever. Especially since I was now riding on my stock seat alone. After hearing several people rave about the Airhawk, I probably had too high expectations and because of that I was never thoroughly satisfied with it. But going back to stock made me appreciate what the Airhawk did. Not sure if I will buy another one though.

Bill and Howard are great riding companions but I think they would have loved to ditch me. My 'style' on a long interstate trip is to ride hard (max speed the traffic allows) for until I hit reserve, but then extend my stops to rehabilitate my butt. Howard & Bill rode at the speed limit (though not Pickly), but didn't piddle around at the gaas stops. Even with Howard smoking at the stops, seems like they always waiting on me.

Didn't seem quite as hot coming back as it did on Thursday. At Wytheville, VA (about 70 miles from home), I looked south and saw a rainbow in the sky. I was all excited until I realized a "rain"bow usually meant there was "rain", and the one we saw was between us and home! About 50 miles from home, we ran into some dark clouds and a few raindrops, so we pulled over to put the rainsuits on. As usual, I took longer than Snowman, so I told him to go ahead and take off next break in traffic (he was still bogging down on inclines and we had stopped at the bottom of a hill). An as usual, putting on the rainsuit protected us from rain! Hit a few big scattered drops in the next couple of miles, but nothing I wouldn't have ridden through suitless.

Never did catch up with Snowman, as his route separated from mine about 35 miles from where we put the suits on. Rolled into the driveway abotu 10 til 8, or about 10½ hours from when we started. I hit the shower before unloading the back and expected a voice mail from Snowman to come while I was in the shower. He called right about the time I was posting the message to the group to say he was home and safe.

All in all, probably the best Gathering ever for me. Even taking out the stator adventure and the overwhelming assistance provided by the group, it was as much fun as I have had at a Gathering. Some new friendships formed and treasured old friendships renewed. We've already reserved Cabin 12 (with the central A/C!!) for next year. We'll have two sleeper sofa's available so the bidding will start in January!! Howard and I were already talking about plans (he will likely trailer so that Snowbird can come), and taking extra days off so we can enjoy the trip there and back more. I couldn't resist spending a few minutes on MS Streets last night looking at mostly non-interstate route there. Hopefully the next 51 weeks will fly by and we'll say everyone again soon.

Wednesday August 29, 2007 - 08:36pm (EDT) Permanent Link
Flying Teens
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Tuesday July 31, 2007 - 07:05am (EDT) Permanent Link
YOUTH on Flickr - Photo Sharing!
YOUTH on Flickr - Photo Sharing! magnify
Friday July 27, 2007 - 09:15pm (EDT) Permanent Link
Well I'm legal!
Been riding for 5 years on an MC Learners Permit. In North Carolina, learners can do anything a licensed rider can do, except carry a passenger. Not that I've hesitated to carry a passenger, although on a stock seat, I didn't ride 2-up a whole lot. And the learners had to be renewed every year, unlike the license which is good for six. IN five years I only actually remembered to go renew it once, so that tells you how much I was riding on an expired permit. I found out the hard way that Virginia requires learners to always be accompanied by a licensed rider (within 50 feet at all times). So every time I headed up on the parkway I was being a scofflaw.

Well, I noticed before MMM that my current permit had actually expired last September. I had always intended to take the MSF course, which in NC takes the place of your 'driving' test for license purposes. But I figured if I was going to have to take a half day off to go wait at the DMV, I might as well go ahead and get all the way legal.

They only offer the skills test twice a day, at 830 and 230 so you have to be there ahead of time and be waiting for them. The examiner was a pretty decent guy. He came out at 230 and asked for all of those waiting for MC endorsements to come up. There were rain clouds threatening and they have to stop testing when the first drops fall. So instead of doing us one at a time, he had all three of us pull our bikes around at the same time. They first check for inspection, current tag, signals, etc. That culled one of us out right away because he had an NC tag but VA inspection sticker. Then he let the two of us remaining basically take the test at the same time.

The skills test was 5 passes through a course consisting of about 8 cones over probably 40 feet. You had to slalom (serpentine) up and back for one pass. The second pass was to show you could shift, as you had to go the length of the course with two shifts (upshift & downshift), turnaround and repeat back to the start. Third pass was supposed to simulate riding in stopped traffic and you had to go up, turnaround and come back as slow as you could without stalling or putting your foot down (I almost told him I could do this test better with a girl on the back and a hot dog hanging from a string. But I figured with my luck, I'd blow the test if I made a smart aleck remark). They time you and you can't finish the course in less than so many seconds. Both I and the other drive (Honda Magna V65) only got about 75% through the course before he signalled us that time was up and we could go faster!. Fourth test was again, he said, supposed to simulate rush hour riding, as we had to accelerate, then pause almost to a stop, then accellerate, without stalling or putting our foot down. We had to do this twice up and then twice back. The last test was supposed to put all the skills together. We had to start at the end of the course and in the first 40 feet shift twice (up & down once each), give a manual signal for a right turn, execute said turn (all the previous turns were leftward...I figured that would be good enough here in NASCAR country), and on the return, shift twice then execute a quick stop when the examiner gave the command without locking or squealing. The other guy went first and he misunderstood the "stop command" notation and thought HE was supposed to signal for the stop instead of the examiner. I said he should have gotten extra credit for that, and making the quick stop with one hand on the bars!

What surprised me was that I have executed everyone of those maneuvers a couple of times over the last week, just riding to work or roaming on Sunday. But I was nervous as hell trying to do this command performance. I made it through, but I think if I had just got my learners, taken the MSF, and tried to do this without a few thousand miles of riding experience, I would not likely have passed. Although in the MSF they use Rebel 250's which may have made it a lot easier.

Oh, and those threatening rain clouds? I felt a single drop right before I began the last test on the course. If he had waited ten minutes, we wouldn't have finished.
Tags: motorcycle, vn750, vulcan, kawasaki
Tuesday July 17, 2007 - 07:44pm (EDT) Permanent Link | 2 Comments
October 04, 2006 - The Illusion of Freedom
Days are getting shorter, and cooler, in Mayberry.  Peak riding season is coming to an end.  I won't officially put up the bike for another month or two, but with the kids back in school (and all the assorted activities that accompany that), I realize that the 'season' when I have opportunities — te freedom — to just go ride is pretty much over for the year.  So when I saw the weather forecast calling for a cloudless day, high at 80º (with a cold front to follow, bringing rain and 60º highs for the foreseeable future), I figured I'd better grab the chance.  

The timing was good too.  Over the last few months it has been made very clear to me that when one chooses to work for someone else, you inevitably sell a significant part of your life.  One becomes a "resource" to be used, and is subject to the whims, prejudices, judgements, and even outlandish idiocies of a "boss".  Sure, there's always the option to quit, to trade one "boss" for another, or to strike out on one's own.  But those velvet handcuffs get tighter every first and fifteenth, and the house payment, car payment, college fund, etc. (not to mention shiny bits for the bike!) convince you to put up with more and more.  Back in the 80's, I saw a T-shirt or something that said something like "Real Men Don't Eat Quiche! (They Eat Sh** Every Working Day)".  I laughed at the time but didn't truly understand it until much later.  

And so, I was feeling the particular need to blow off work (but only for a day) and get on the bike and ride to just anywhere.  Fill up the tank and point it in a direction with no real destination or route in mind.  Pretend for a few hours that I am free.  Sure my range is limited to how far I can get to — and back from — before the kids get home from school.  But until 4 o'clock at least, I can fantasize.  

So after a lingering over coffee while the morning chill wore off, I pointed the scoot north.  I had a vague notion that I'd head up US 52 to West Virginia; bag another state that I'd never ridden my bike through.  The first 60-70 miles of US 52 north of my house have been ridden many times.  With a quiet and unacknowledged nod to my time limit, I opted to jump on the interstate and bypass that stretch, picking up the highway at Wytheville, VA.  

I pushed the bike through some nice curves and up Big Walker Mountain.  I stopped at the top to put my camera on my new experimental mount on the front forks.  I wanted to try some low angle video as I rode down the big hill.  Unfortunately I discovered that when I had downloaded some pictures I few days earlier, I must have forgotten to turn it off.  The nearly new (expensive lithium) batteries were completely dead.  There would be no photographic (or video) documentation of today's journey.  While I was fooling around with cameras and what not, an old Econoline van pulled out and a family of Amish climbed out.  The eldest of the group, with full grey beard and the typical flat brim black hat, came over and very politely asked about the old ranger watchtower here.  I debated commenting on the recent tragedy at the Amish school, at least offering my condolences.  I wondered if they knew about it, or since they avoided modern electronics like TV and radio (guess 20-year-old Ford vans are considered plain enough) if they had not yet learned of it.  I pulled out to head on my way and almost immediately regretted not hanging around and trying to strike up a conversation with the group.  What's the point of being "free" if you're going to pass up a chance to meet an interesting person that you're not likely to meet on your daily commute to the office?  Blew that one.  

I pressed on through the SW VA countryside.  Nice rding conditions, with good pavement and a mix of big sweeping curves, the occassional challenging twist, and a few straightways to run the revs up a little.  Although I had brought along my MP3 player and riding earbuds, I chose not to play any tunes for a while.  I've gotten too much into the habit of always riding with the tunes.  Before I got my player, I really enjoyed long stretches of riding with nothing but the sound of "the road rushing under my wheels", the wind, the low hum of the engine, and my own thoughts (all but the latter kept at safe levels with earplugs!).  Life is so noisy, I never seem to hear (or listen to) my own internal dialog, that proverbial still small voice.  Funny thing though; today the depressing thoughts about work and personal issues kept reverberating with each RPM.  I never achieved my own little Zen where I became one with the bike and the road.  

An uneventful couple of hours found me at the mouth of the East River Mountain Tunnel (a name which always sounded to me like a random compilation of words from a geography glossary) which opened at the other end into "Wild and Wonderful" West Virginia.  I've ridden Temptress in eight states now and the District of Columbia.  Okay, hardly Iron Butt status, but I'm working on it.  I added five of those states in the last three months.  

US52 leaves it's original road bed here (which once took it over the mountain) and joins the interstate through the tunnel, but immediately exits on the other side and leads the traveller to the community of Bluefield.  As I rode along the limited access parkway through town I kept seeing signs proclaiming downtown Bluefield and an historic district, but all I seemed to see were retail strips with Super K-marts and Pizza Huts.  To be fair, I didn't really explore extensively.  I saw a sign inviting me to turn here for the East River Mountain overlook and graciously accepted.  

The turn off actually was for a state route up and over the mountain on what was once US 52.  There was a nice overlook near the 3500-ft summit where one could view the valley (I never could spot the East River).  I shed the leather jacket and chaps and sat at a picnic table enjoying the slightly cool sunshine.  As I was casually looking over some maps and pondering possible routes home <sigh>, a man on a white Honda pulled in the parking lot and walked to the overlook.  I'm ashamed to say I didn't walk over and speak to this bike brother.  Strike two for me.  

I crested the mountain and came down the old US 52 route (again some nice riding where I could work on rounding off the edges on my new rear tire).  I had opted to essentially retrace my route down 52 with a possible side trip.  On the way up I had seen a turn off for a state route that had one of those big signs saying not recommended for trucks.  Couldn't tell for sure, but the map appeared to show that I could take that and some associated state roads and eventually wind up back on 52 near Wytheville.  Maybe this little bit of spontaneity could shake off the oppressive cloudiness that still enveloped me on this perfect sunny day.  

First little town I came to was Rocky Gap and the odometer was telling me I would be hitting reserve soon.  There were two little gas stations in this burg but the posted prices were a full dime higher than what I had been seeing all day.  Knowing I was not yet on reserve, and the next town I would come to (the aptly-named Bland, VA) would be within range of the reserve, I decided to press on.  Almost strike three.  Consider it fouled off at the plate.

I wasn't more than a couple of miles from the gas stations when I got the tell-tale sputter that it was time for reserve.  No sweat, we'll make it to Bland easily (someday I'm going to write a song called "Making it to Bland").  I cruised along, actually noticing things I didn't recall noticing on the way up.  I was thinking about how, when I actually planned my routes, I liked making loops, instead of out-and-backs over the same roads, so that I could see and experience more.  Turns out, sez I, that you get a different perspective riding the same road from another direction that's almost like you never rode it before.  Well, you guessed it.  I HAD never ridden this before.  I had totally missed the turn back at Rocky Gap and was on a different highway.  I discovered my mistake when I crossed a county line and realized I shouldn't be in that county.  A mile or so later, I saw a sign announcing Tazewell VA a few miles ahead.  Those of you following along on your own maps will note that Tazewell is a good 20-25 miles from my intended destination — as the crow flies.  No telling how far on these winding roads.  I pulled over quickly and tried to remember what my odo said when I passed those gas stations.  From where I stopped, the GPS showed Bland was about 9 miles (direct) from that spot.  But I didn't remember where the highway turned off and there was absolutely no telling how many road miles to Bland.  Was I closer to Rocky Gap?  Was I close enough to either one to make it back on reserve?

I turned around and started heading back, cursing myself for worrying about that extra dime per gallon (a whole 35 cents extra to fill the whole tank).  I looked closely at each farmhouse I passed, wondering if all these tractors ran on gas or diesel fuel.  I began practicing my pitch for when I would surely have to walk up to one of these porches and ask for a few drops of fuel.  How much should I offer to pay them?  Probably more than the price I passed up back in Rocky Gap.  I remembered that my Roadside Assistance plan would bring me up to 5 gallons to get me on my way.  Wonder how long it would take for them to find and get to me out here in the boonies.  For that matter, would I even have cell signal out here to call them?  I carefully kept the engine RPMs as close to 4k as I could, remembering that seemed to be the most fuel efficient rate.  

Well, time flies when you're having fun (or daydreaming), and it turned out I wasn't nearly as far from Rocky Gap as I feared.  I easily made it back and gratefully paid the extra dime a gallon to fill up.  When I went in to pay I decided I would not again pass up a chance to make friendly conversation with a new person.  The only one around was the store clerk so I followed my "six dollars on pump 2" with my most friendly how-are-you.  Doubtless in karmic revenge for my sociability sins earlier in the day she barely said a word and made it clear she had no desire to pass the time of day.  I grabbed a Diet Mountain Dew and some nabs before I ventured on.  

As I was munching, I saw a tall, thin, good looking blonde in tight jeans and high-heeled boots walk across the parking lot with some good old boy, and climb in to the passenger seat of a dump truck parked there.  Suffice to say that the way she looked and was dressed was a quite incongruent with the surroundings.  I dunno, here in rural Appalachian Virginia do folks go out on dates in dump trucks during the middle of the day on a Wednesday?  

Back on the road (fnding my turn this time) and on to Bland.  Turns out the state road I had seen earlier was only a state highway for about 2 miles from the turn off.  At that point it turned into a gravel trail barely more than one lane wide.  Sometimes spontaneity doesn't work out, but I never would have known if I had not tried.  

On the map, US52 winds on either side of I-77 like the serpent on a staff and crosses it at numerous exits between Wytheville and Bluefield, including here in Bland.  Over half the day was gone, and rather than capturing that illusion of freedom, it seemed that each hour had the opposite effect.  I had passed up at least two opportunities to learn about someone new, and in doing so became more isolated and inward-obsessed.  Except for some hoochie in a dump truck, I had failed to see much that intrigued me, which probably had more to do with the observer than the observed.  I had passed through some wonderful landscape from towering mountains with the beginning of fall colors highlighting the green forestry, to pastoral valleys with beautiful streams and open fields.  And yet I had seemed to enjoy none of it.  It was time to head home.  I pulled out my MP3 player, pulled onto the interstate and was home in a little over 90 minutes.  

I have a friend, born in the 70's, who recently told me she was "in a good place right now" as she described her life.  It amused me because I associated the phrase with hippie lingo from a decade before she was even born.  At the time, the "place" metaphor seemed somewhat inappropriate one for describing a time in life, or a set of circumstances.  I was probably wrong, based on my ride.    Even though I had tried to escape a physical place, if for a few hours, I brought that place with me, clear across two state lines. 
Friday October 6, 2006 - 09:55pm (EDT) Permanent Link

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