Pursuing Avocation And Not Being De"feeted"

So I got to the rally point to meet my mechanic plenty early, a nice small town in western New England. I've always believed that the local library is usually a great microcosm of the area - so off to the library I go. No sooner was I satisfying my curiosity of the local anthropology and flipping thru the magazine section did I notice it was raining and I mean RAINING. :/

So my sleeping bag was pretty much soaked. I just decided to leave it be and enjoy the library. There was more staff in that little library than most. Full of stay at home moms with preschool age kids, who were obviously very comfortable there.I walked to grab a slice a pizza chatting it up with locals about the awesome local grocery store that's also a coop - basically Trader Joes-ish without the pomp. (Green Fields Market) I visited later and grabbed some ginger beer for Sayre my mechanic and some chips.

Meeting with Sayre answered some questions about the rig. She's running as she should by the time I leave and I'm all smiles. The right decision was made. His shop was as I imagined. Concrete floor, wooden loft above. All types of mechanical projects about, at least 2 dozen bikes, couple cars and a souped up go cart. On the radio is the local station playing great music unadulterated with corporate sponsorship and the repetitive play of 20 songs in rotation. What advertisements that do exist are for local companies. We talk music, like RL Burnside, the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion and the like of lessor known great artists who don't have such "marketable" faces or life stories.

We also talk about the problem with value, quality and workmanship in our society. Sayre told me about a book that escaped my notice, called "Shop Class As Soul Craft" by Matthew Crawford. It discusses the experience of making and fixing things with our hands. That so many of us who sit in an office often feel a lack of connection to the material world, a sense of loss, and find it difficult to say exactly what we do all day. For those who felt hustled off to college, then to the cubicle, against their own inclinations and natural bents, his books sets about a restoration. Oh, the best part is the author ends his journey opening up a one man motorcycle shop. Imagine if more people "enjoyed" the work they did. :)

 I leave Sayres shop with the idle resolved, the carbs properly mounted, headlight adjusted and the speedo and I now have at least an understanding. I didn't think of it at the time but simply placing a washer behind the bolt with the magnet brought the magnet a hair closer and viola, we have a working speedo. :)

Its about 10pm and I hit the road hard, my excitement for the bike running as it should gave me plenty nervous energy to have at it. My excitement was meant with the one thing that could deflate it, rain. Rain would follow me out of New England, into NY, Pennsylvania and Ohio. Followed by in close procession a bitter cold wind in Indiana and Illinois. Yeah...lovely. The rain has taught me some other things about the bike, I had chose to mount the fender in reverse cause it looked sexier, well...there is a reason the designers had it the other way. With the shorter side of the fender facing the front of the bike, when rain water rolls off the tire its met with the head wind before it has started to descend to the road. That headwind flips it up towards  your headlight...and face. How nice. Yea.

I can't say enough about how happy I am I got the saddle bags instead of using my back pack and that Alex lent me his rain gear - I would be having a very different trip otherwise. A much shorter one. I do notice a tear starting at the yoke area on my bag...I'll have to address that at some point.

I ride thru the rain for as long as I can and in Erie I stop to dry off at a rest stop. When you are so tired and uncomfortable for so long, when you finally stop to rest you tend to address your needs with a matter of fact manner that ignores certain social norms and graces - like a 4 year old. I walked in, found a few empty tables near an outlet and began to shed my wet layers and plug in all my dead electronics. I walked back outside in my wet socks to get a remaining ginger beer from meeting with Sayre, my moms jar of jam and a few other snacks I had stashed, avocado, chips, jerky and trail mix. As I sit there drafting my map a State Trooper comes over looking conflicted. He's obviously enamored with my map - but its clear he's there on official business. He says, "I have to ask sir, were you drinking a beer?". I laugh and so no. I show him the bottle that someone obviously mistook for alcohol. He laughed and asked about my trip, gave me some great places to camp along the way, confirmed my suspicion that even tho the Canada route would be shorter I did need my passport to get back in. And most importantly we talked about the fed shutdown and so Mount Rushmore is closed. So with Rushmore closed, this rain and cold - I was pretty decided that I needed another option involving a warmer summer route. You can see this new southern route in the map picture, leaving Chicago I would head to Kansas City, Amarillo, Sedona and then Cali. 

He took my info cause he had to, wished me luck and told me how much he admired what I was doing. He looked about 29. Its funny to me to meet cops younger than me...I can never take them seriously. I'm also always amazed at some "do gooders" need call in a suspicion, that while drinking a beer publicly is illegal its certainly is not hurting someone. If anything its helping :) #HumansAintSerious, which bring me to the sign below...really Merica? There must obviously be a state fund surplus that we think both a "sign and area" to encourage people to pull over and text is a better investment than maybe, I dunno eduction. I have no words. You can't make this stuff up. This area has no services, restrooms, food or gas. Just for texting. Text Stop meets Rest Stop.

I put on a fresh pair of socks and get back at it. I don't last much longer than an hour or so and I take an exit into a residential area. At some point I cross a bike path very much like the one in San Jose where I live. I turn the bike onto it, park it about 30 yard in, lay out my bag and fall asleep almost immediately. About 3 hours later just before sunrise I get up and meet the sun on the highway. The rain come heavier and before long I can't continue. I can feel my boots grow heavy, that squishy feeling in my socks and I concede to call it quits for a while. Another full tank of gas, another rest area and I wait to dry off. I should admit I'm getting my share of looks at rest stops. Part of it I'm sure is the motorcycle gear in this ridiculous rain, and then even after I've shed my soggy layers my beard is a bit overgrown by now and lastly I'm strolling around in my socks. I grab some baby powder for my feet and recall that I was supposed to purchase some Udder Balm. When I was doing bridge railing design years ago the guys who would install the rails on the Bridges, often in winter lived by this stuff as it kept your hands and feet from getting blistered, raw and dried out. At this point its a bit too late for that. :(

I douse my toes and feet in baby powder, wrap my feet in paper towels, scored a few plastic bags from Sbarro Pizza so I slide them into that. Cap it off with my mostly dry socks and pop my still wet boots back on. The feel 90%. I'm back son!

The rain has let up and outside a trucker is admiring the bike. I should admit the bike gets an endless amount of looks, more than I can mention each time as it happens. We talk about my trip and what happens on jaunts like this, alone with your thoughts and nothing to distract you but your own mind, regrets and passions. That you return to your normal life more whole. He mentions his dissatisfaction regarding his son who just started school in Miami and that his ex wife bought him a Porsche! That no kid that age, even tho he has a great kid, should have a Porsche. I agreed that that's its asking a lot of a kid his age to be responsible with a car like that and add that the other thing is the attention it will bring him and with that attention my come people of a certain disposition that would otherwise ignore him. Hopefully his ability to size up people and their intentions is in tact.

He asks me about my experience at rest stops, apparently there was a recent "to do" about men meeting for sex in those parts. He shares his views and I politely listen. He was pretty wordy and passionate on the subject and I was glad that he felt comfortable enough to open up the way he did to me. One thing that struck me were his historical references. I didn't bother to address his rants about religion and morals but instead I encouraged him to look up Fakaleiti, Fa'afafine, Akava'ine or Mahu. And I would be interested in hearing his opinions. In Cleveland I met a past contestant in the Miss Galaxy who is Fakaleiti and had an interesting exchange about family, community and morals. Definitely a character, he's welcomed at my table any day. I have to say I really liked Cleveland, the area I was in I believe is called Studio City. Very cool urban area before it turns "overly" popular. I grab some grub from a local grocery store in that area and eat in the park in front of a library. (Carnegie West Public Library) Afterwards I stroll over to a corner cafe and have a drink and chat it up with locals and the waiter. (Le Petit Triangle Cafe) In the process I also scored a complimentary dessert. And I couldn't help but think, in full gratitude this dessert is really good although there were other options on the menu I would have rather tried. Its kind of like a hand job, it's not exactly what you want...but Thank You so much! :/
(I may have just lost my female audience - the one, sorry Mom!) So while I'm at it, despite its claim to fame...I saw very little cleavage in Cleveland.

I press on and I'm met with cold winds in Indiana and Chicago. By the time I arrive at my friends place in South Side Chicago my hands are swollen and I am beat. My host Amanda is more than gracious. She's up to PHD shenanigans till the wee hours and I'm happy for the company. I have a warm meal, bed and even warmer shower awaiting me. Access to laundry and full rights to all food on the premises! Yay me! :)

She thought it comical to share with me the fact that my new southern route takes me thru what is affectionately referred to as "Sundown States"?... The term was lost on me, so she provided a link: http://sundown.afro.illinois.edu/sundowntowns.php
Craziness. O, Merica, why so mad? You is kind. You is smart. You is impo'ant!

One of the highlights was going to Chautauqua Institute in the western part of New York state a historic center for educational entertainment, think Ted Talks meets all things fun and well done from music, arts and more. :D (Chautauqua Institution)

Just a random pics a buddy took in Boston and just emailed to me yesterday

PS, I also added the videos finally on the previous posts if you wanna see em. Ttyl

Decisions, Decisions... And Creating Pickup Lines

A big part of why I had any carb issues in the first place is because the bike sat completed until I could make my way out here...and of course the main mechanic was away on a road trip of his own by the time I landed in Boston.

Well, we chatted yesterday and he's back and willing to meet up and give the bike a once over. So, do I backtrack another day or deal with it on the road? That's the decision I needed to make last night.

I woke up to this this morning and decided to meet with him and then head out. This was my view...it may have had something to do with it. Last night was my first time feeling the fatigue. I found an empty house with "for sale" signs right on the main drag, it had a carport for my bike and a soft wood deck for my back. Perfection. Up till then, I was on a curvy mountain state road lined with trees, colder than I wanted it to be for this trip but distracted by the dazzling of the stars. The sky was big. :)

A day earlier I arrived in Albany at night, the city was covered in darkness. I had planned to exit directly downtown, have a beer and chat with locals. Instead the carbs riddle me again and again. I puttered to a stop about one exit prior than desired. I was in what appeared to be an abandoned industrial area. The bike rolled into a parking lot in front of a warehouse sparsely lined with a strategic patch of grass.  Rolled out my sleeping bag. Laid flat on my back, in hopes of uncurling my spine out of the hunched "café" riding posture and arose to the brilliance of the sun the next day. State Of NY Water Conservation Building

The last time I was in Albany I was 26, married and trying to convince my then wife we should invest in brownstones there. I had my builders license and I was hungry...she had a meal ticket and wasn't. Lol :P

I stretched out on the sleeping bad as I slowly got up. Stood. Pulled out my jump rope and did a few sets. Pushups. Ate a carrot, apple and orange. Checked my dead phone and started making a plan for fixing this bike and finding a bar...in any order that suits your values.


I found a building that looked occupied, stated my business, asked to charge my phone, use their restroom and slowly made a few new friends. I left my phone there to charge and went to find a hardware store or motorcycle shop. (Phibbs Power Sports) Instead I met a woman who owned the cross fit building I was admiring along my stroll. She wore spandex shorts and a belly tank top and sported a muscular feminine frame in the right places. She was attractive, my age or older and I could see her faint green veins slightly in her calves and thighs. Her face was kind and she seemed out of place for Albany, maybe a transplant. As she got closer I admired a wild ruddy look to her, short tussled thick blonde hair and a demeanor that told you she's been to plenty rodeos. Later I learned she grew up in Boston, was a widower and had 2 grown kids off on their own. CrossFit Beyond
I stopped mostly because of the outdoor chin-up/adult monkey bar setup they had, tempted to do a few chin-ups...but then I was really drawn in by a second structure on the property.  It was a small red brick structure, square, terracotta brown clay tiles, long narrow windows and in need of restoration or a wrecking ball. I leaned towards the former. She and the building both leaned, towards the latter.  She says it was the towns old water pump station. Handsome. It would make a great cigar, sandwich or barber shop, bike store, café or juice bar...any of which I'd love to own. She and I talked about work, life after marriage, the whole dating "again" thing, motorcycle road trips and the best pickup lines. I would later return to use her bathroom and kitchen in the cross fit before heading out to leave Albany. She lamented about the dating scene, bars and clubs and asked my advise about meeting people and I told her I probably have no freedom of speech on that subject but my best suggestion would be to not try. Discover your own passions and actively pursue them...there will be single people at that place when you get there, too.

So my map is looking like this now, best case scenario. I've lost more days than I care to discuss and now there is rain afoot. Hoping for less McDonalds and more of what's in that wallet. (For the record I only eat the hash browns there...maybe an occasional biscuit sandwich - but rarely) I guess I just felt indebted for using the free wifi and drying off.

The next three days should be pretty intense to get to Milwaukee, if the rains shift I'll go to Bloomington Indiana instead. Both places represent two very different things I love about the Midwest. And both are towns most people pass by...but I strongly suggest you reconsider them. I'd add Albany to that list too.

I first had (newly legalized after 95 years) absinthe in Milwaukee while visiting a plant for work. I had extended my flight into the weekend because I wanted to see some farms and visit their Art Museum on the water...it looks more like an architectural representation of a sailboat crossed with a harp. In good way. And then there is Elsa's, a small restaurant just north of downtown, which looks like a classically trained French chef went on a binge, woke up out of his stupor in a greasy spoon and had an epiphany for a menu idea. Everything there is essentially diner food - on organic range fed steroids. :@)

In Bloomington I was drawn in by the small town charm of incredibly talented and intelligent locals. No social posturing and disingenuous phrases...just real folk. I had my first taste of Bourbon Beer here. (Max's Place) Downtown is lined with mom and pops, from the usual second hand stores and Barber Shops to the Men's haberdashery with an amazing selection of avant-gard  fashion forward finds. World music festivals. Great artisan/craftsman shops, bars, food and cafes provide an amazing back drop to the stirring debates among the everyday folk. All this surrounded by cornfields - if you ask me, its things like this that makes America great, but I digress. Long story, short, I was supposed to be in Bloomington for one day while hitchhiking cross-country two years ago almost to the day...I stayed four.

So, right now I'm at the rally point to meet my Mechanic. (Greenfield Public Library) I'm 8 hours early. And can I just say I love "Motorcycle Parking Spots"? If only our governments were run more like small towns in America. I'm reminded of Churchill's book "Coniston" - oh wait, recalling the ending, maybe they are, lol. :)

PS: I almost forgot the business of pickup lines. So the conversation about pickup lines started at cross fit but followed me into "Stouts", a pub a few blocks down. (Stout) I'm sitting there and chatting with 3 guys who are mesmerized by the bartenders posterior. She's about 5'8", brunette, extensions, pretty face and overly nice in that "I get paid to do this" kind of way, eh. So, the one guy who is really interested asks his friends, "what do you say to a woman like that?" And everyone at the bar is tossing around pickup lines. There is even an elderly couple chiming in. I offer one he likes and it worked. I have to admit it was off the cuff and I later told her outside that she can only blame herself, or by self I mean her ass. She laughed. Her new boyfriends didn't. D'oh! ;)

The line: "Excuse me what brand of jeans are those you are wearing?"
She'll answer: "blah, blah, blah, thanks YOU, blah, what's your name?, blah blah"...
Respond: "I'll have to remember that. They are very flattering by the way. When I get a girlfriend again...she's wearing THOSE jeans!

Hey, it worked. Let's hope my bike puts out as much. ;)