Well folks, after 51 days of rambling around the USA and Canada on my bike, I saw many things and met people that I would never have seen in 1,000 years of corporate travel. Airplanes, cars, busses, trains and ships all have their places, but there’s definitely something much more visceral about seeing, smelling, feeling and experiencing our continent on a motorcycle. Many of you have probably never noticed that virtually every motorcyclist waves at another passing motorcyclist, but it’s a tiny comforting gesture that satisfies my soul and I experienced it thousands of times over the past 14,000 miles or so. Meeting fellow riders at a rest area or in a motel is even more special; I’ve learned that many bikers are unsung military heroes who served our country with honor and they ride as a tribute to their comrades who weren’t so lucky and to live-out the freedom that they helped to ensure.
This morning I was eager to ride straight home from Reno over the familiar route through the Sierra Mountains. I set-out at about 9:00 and quickly realized I was back in California when I stopped for gas; The price spiked to $3.25 and I was confronted with the awful vapor-trapping bellows on the pump that makes it impossible to fill-up a motorcycle. After the most expensive fill-up of my journey, I was on my way over Emigrant’s Pass, Donner Lake and lots of stimulus-funded road construction. It was a crystal clear autumn day, except for a few clouds nestled into the mountain peaks that created interesting foggy spots. As I headed down into Sacramento Valley, it was warm and congested. I reflected on all the places I’ve seen and wondered why 30 million people, including me, choose to live in such a congested place where taxes are oppressive, the government stinks and services suck. My conclusion: it’s the weather and the diversity. Lots of places in the U.S. are nice, but many of them are just one-pony shows, even the five-legged cow in Prarrie-Dog Town.
I stopped for lunch near Davis, CA and called Kelly to see how Anthony’s baseball team was doing in the tournament. Kelly suggested I come down to Manteca, CA because if the boys won their morning game, they would be in the championship game this afternoon. I checked Google-Maps and took a 72-mile detour from my planned route through back roads, delta and farmlands around Stockton that were worth seeing. I crossed 3 draw-bridges and arrived at the Big League Field of Dreams in plenty of time to have a beer before the first pitch of the championship game. Although the Red Sox played a more seasoned team, we won the nail-biting game 5 – 2 and it was a splendid ending to my fantastic odyssey.
As I rode home with a million people returning from their weekend in the mountains, I prayed that my threadbare tires would hold-up for the 80-mile final trek and they did. I stopped at Lucky’s to get ham-dog fixin’s for tonight’s vittles [hamburgers shaped like hotdogs] and they were a big hit. The kids did their homework as we watched the 49ers loose again – oh well, maybe next year?
Anyway, it’s really good to be home!
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