Rain rain go away

I am so sick of this freakin' rain. I used to love rain. Now that I ride, I can't stand wet days. I squandered a beautiful weather day yesterday, I needed to get a new front tire on the bike, so I didn't get out. Well, the front tire was pretty bald so it's a good thing I got a new one. Today, met up with Ladyhawke and Jude for a little ride. The original plan was to meet in Corona and do Ortega Hwy. Heading out, it was a gloomy morning, foggy and misty enough where drops collected on my visor and windshield, but not really what you could properly call rain. I found Jude at Toms Farms and we waited around for LH, and half an hour late my phone rings ... she's gotten lost, the poor directionally-challenged dear, and ended up in Fallbrook (!) so Jude and I hop on the scoots and head half an hour down the road and find her. From there, a little more wandering & stopped for lunch at a Denny's, and chatted it up for a good long while. From there, we all headed home, so Ortega will wait for another day. The weather never did turn nice like I thought it would. On my way back, it got downright nasty in the San Gabriel Valley, and the mist and drizzle turned into real rain and here I was on the 210 without any raingear with me and this freeway always gets jammed up coming into Pasadena in the afternoon, I don't know why. Slick roads, Sunday drivers and a new wheel made me VERY nervous. I actually got off the freeway for a bit (the section where everyone sees the brake lights in front of them & starts changing lanes suddenly) and rode surface streets for a while. Got home safe and sound, thank you Goddess. My nice clean bike, which I'd spent a little time polishing on Saturday, is a mess again. Oh well ;)

Orange Belt

It's a funny thing about tests, ya know. For my yellow belt, I felt nervous as all get-out, worried about it so much that I could barely sleep the night before. Then, I nailed the thing. I was happy and exhausted afterward, pleased to have done well, proud of mastering the first basics of Shaolin.

Today I tested for orange belt. Man, felt like I sucked. What happened to the skills, the next tiny portion of knowlege, that I'd been working on so hard for these past couple of months? I knew the stuff, my muscles & my nerves & my brain had all their bits, but just couldn't seem to work together today. I stumbled. I hesitated. I was sloppy. The test felt like it went on and on and on (though I think it did not go on for very much longer than the first one) and it felt like drowning. Just let me get through this, I kept telling myself. I'll do better next time. I'll get another chance to do this right. Just keep going. Hold together. Never quit.

Well, I passed. I wasn't sure I would, but I did. I'm not so pleased and happy about this one, though. Everyone has an off day and today was certainly one for me. I didn't like how that felt, so just a reason to work harder, I guess.

New York

Spent New Year's in New York City, visiting with Amazon sisters. The trip started off badly. I am a big old flying coward, and decided on the traditional Hit The Airport Bar (Hard) technique of calming my midflight nerves. This was a mistake. I was stinking drunk on the plane & I don't do 'stinking drunk' so well anymore, so I felt more sick than mellow. Then, the plane was to land & refuel in Nashville, but that airport was fogged in, so after circling for about an hour and a half, we diverted to Louisville. We weren't allowed off the plane (since this particular airline doesn't fly out of Louisville) and instead had to sit on the tarmac for two and a half hours before the fog in Tennessee finally lifted enough for us to return to Nashville, let off and take on more passengers, and proceed to LaGuardia. Sheesh. I was still kinda green around the gills when Tee picked me up at the airport, and glad to be off that damn plane. Tee laughed at me & my extreme lack of luggage. For a five day visit, I had one small carry-on and my camera. Heh, I believe in traveling light.

Linda and Diane arrived a few hours later, and I rested back at home when Tee went to pick them up, and was feeling a little better by the time everyone was together. So the trip was improving after an inauspicious start :)

The weather in New York was surprisingly good. It was warm enough for the snow that fell a few days ago was mostly melted. It even got up in the fifties some days, so it certainly wasn't the beastly temps I was expecting.

This was a pretty low-key visit, mostly just hanging out and being together, with two major events planned. The first was we would do the whole New Year's Eve in Times Square thing. The second was going to the Cowboys-Giants game at the Meadowlands on January 2nd. Trina would be playing on the New York Sharks squad as part of a halftime exhibition scrimmage.

So as New Year's Eve rolled around, we pile on the train to ride from Long Island to Manhattan, laughing and giggling and the out-of-towners (me and Linda and Diane) carrying on like the geeky tourists we are and the natives (Tee and Trina) mocking us. Good times. We got to Times Square before sundown and let me tell you, it was already a madhouse. NYPD had started blocking off streets, making it hard to move around. We went in circles for a while trying to get to Rockerfeller Plaza (I wanted to photograph the ice rink & the statue there) but couldn't get to it, we weren't allowed to walk down the streets we needed to get there. We gave up after a while, and wandered down to the main part of Times Square you see on the television. The sun was setting, it was around five p.m., the streets were getting packed ... you could still move around, they weren't yet jammed like they would be in a few hours, but you were consistently jostled anywhere you went ... and standing around for seven hours in a sea of drunken humanity suddenly seemed like not such a good idea. I have a bad knee, Linda has a bad ankle, and I think Tee gets pretty grumpy at crowds, especially large stupid ones. (Maybe I'm projecting here and it's me that gets grumpy. LOL.) We decided to bail and head down to the Village, to get dinner and then spend the evening at one of the local drinking establishments. This plan turned out to be much better. We ate at Cowgirl and then walked down to Rubyfruit, where we all got drunk as lords. We had a great time being the loud table ordering a zillion Cosmos, wearing silly hats, making drunk phone calls to our Amazon sisters ;) I'm afraid that Diane had a bit too much to drink -- a relative thing at this point, but she needed the most assistance walking -- and taking this into account, we timed our return to Long Island very well, getting on the train BEFORE the one that's jam-packed with revellers going home. We had to carry her off the train when we got to our stop while Tee held the door open with her body, glaring knives at the conductor, but we got our butts safely home and in bed, ready to nurse the wicked hangovers that were sure to come the next day.

New Year's Day was watching football & a little hair of the dog, you know, the typical thing. It was pretty funny, I thought -- midday, on our third televised game or so, I looked around the room and realised I was the only one who was awake, everyone else was sacked out on the various couches and recliners. Tee made a fabulous dinner to celebrate New Year's Day, and a few more friends came over for a festive little get-together. And Tee is a woman who knows her wine. (grin) We went downstairs to admire Tee's project bike after dinner, she's building a bobber out of an old Kawa. Lotta work to be done, the project's just getting started. It's going to look supremely cool when she finishes.

Next day was game day. Sharks were playing at halftime of the Cowboys vs Giants, so Trina was nervous, as you would expect. We trekked down to Meadowlands Stadium ... ha, that's the New Jersey scenery I remember ... and it turns out our seats were pretty damn good, we were in the first row of the mezzanine. Neither the 'Boys or the Giants were playing terribly well, but it was the final game of the season and both teams were out of the playoffs, so it was a pride/rivalry game anyway. Eli Manning was still looking for his first NFL win, but stunk it up the first half. The crowd was grumbling and booed him a little. Heh. Halftime, the NFL players quit the field and the Sharks hustled on, and ran a scrimmage on half of the field ... unfortunately, they were down by the end zone that was farther away from us, but we still had a great view. Trina got in for a few plays; I remember her coming in on defense for a third-down play and she flat-out sprinted to get to the corner from the other sideline. We laughed and cheered her on -- fastest player on the field! or at least the one who was showing the most motor! LOL. I listened to the crowd comments around me. A lot of folks were ignoring the halftime display but I heard a few "hey, check this out"s and "wow, those are girls?" from the masses. During the third quarter, Trina showed up at our seats still dressed in her game pants but carrying her helmet pads & jersey, and watched the rest of the game with us. In the stands, and also on the way back to the car in the parking lot, she got quite a few "Good game, Sharks" comments, so some people were paying attention, I guess. I hope the Sharks win some new fans with their exhibition. Manning pulled out his first win, by the way, with a last minute drive to beat the 'Boys. It was kinda fun to see Jerry Jones get roundly booed by the crowd, too.

Flew home the next day (today), this time with no delays or incidents, and also without massive amounts of alcohol. :)

Thank you Tee and Trina for your hospitality! It is so very appreciated!

Election blues

Oh, GAWD. Another four years of that trained monkey in the White House? Heaven help us all. How could the Dems screw it up that badly? How could they NOT beat the idiot favorite son?

The guy has his supporters, lots of 'em, but I sure as hell don't see why. I really, really, REALLY dislike him with intensity.

And don't even get me started on the eleven states that say I cannot marry. Not like I'm gonna marry anyone but it is discouraging (to put it mildly) that the electorate denies me the legal right to do so, and by such a large margin. Sigh. Is progress an illusion?

Yellow Belt/Changing Gears

It's been a busy, busy weekend. I woke Saturday nervous ... my very first belt test in karate! I started at USSD back in June, when the Encino dojo first opened. This means I've spent a rather long time as a white belt, the very beginning level. I don't mind. It means I've had lots and lots of time to practice basics while enough students have enrolled and learned enough to test. It's a group of five of us who test for yellow belt. The test lasts about an hour, hour and a half ... I don't know. I just know it kicked my butt, it was physically very hard work, and constant. There were times were all I wanted to do was drop to the ground with exhaustion and then sensei would bark out some new orders and, well, what choice do I have but throw myself into doing whatever he just asked? Football was like that, too, especially two-a-days. You just have to keep going. We all passed. It'll be nice to have some color in the dojo. It'll feel strange and proud and a little shy to put that stiff new belt around my waist at my next class. It's a tiny little step, I know, but it's my first one.

After the test, I have to run home, shower and change, because it's time to run down to Long Beach and broadcast an Aftershock game! Needless to say, I wasn't in top form. Tim's friend who usually does the stats wasn't there, which means I tried to keep them, scribbling numbers on a sheet of paper in between trying to say something halfway interesting on the air. I sounded flat because I was so tired, low-energy, and I kept messing up everyone's names, but got through it. The Aftershock trounced the Scorpions pretty convincingly. I went right home afterward for some badly-needed rest.

Sunday, I meet up with the Changing Gears riders. (Check their website at www.changinggears.org.) What an awesome ride. It was a tremendous pleasure to meet Jean and the rest. These women inspire me. I was originally going to join Minnie and Sparky in Malibu for breakfast, but they ate without me because I skipped it and slept in a little bit. Sorry, ladies! Apparently I missed a good bit o' chow. We took off down PCH and headed south to Harbor City, a little town near Long Beach, to the reception at California Harley-Davidson. My doofus moment for the day -- I had printed out directions but of course left them at home, but I was fairly sure I knew how to get there. Famous last words. As the fearless leader I managed to get us a wee bit lost, but we got back on track and made it to the dealership on time. A few minutes later, the Changing Gears riders & accompanying folks pulled in. Lots of huge smiles & happy motorcyclists!

We found Ladyhawke & Jean in the crowd, and proceeded to meet and greet with everyone. There were plenty of videocameras out, interviews with the various riders. Twenty women, twenty amazing stories, incredibly vibrant and high spirits abounding. The Amazons were actually interviewed as a group for a local cable channel. Who knows, we may end up in a documentary somewhere! (Ladyhawke, you did such a lovely job, but I managed to cram about half a dozen "umm"s into every sentence. I think I get camera-shy when I'm tired! LOL) Jean spoke wonderfully about the ride, the group's cause, the opportunity these women have embraced, and the importance of mammograms and early detection. I think we were the last interview of the day because we had to dash back outside & saddle up, everyone else was ready to ride.

Waved bye-bye to LH who had to head back south, and the rest of the group took off for Ventura County. The Changing Gears riders were in the front, followed by a large contingent from a local H.O.G. chapter, and Amazons held down the rear. It is fun to have a police escort stop traffic and let a hundred riders pour through intersections while the cagers have to stop and watch you. Some look on with curiosity, some twitch impatiently. ;) Seeing the long line of riders from the back of the pack was pretty amazing.

Great riding weather. The group ended up back on PCH and we cruised up to Neptune's Net (local biker hangout) for the major stop of the afternoon. Lots more happy chatting and hanging out. One of the Changing Gears riders hauled out a guitar being carried in the support van and we had an impromptu concert on the front steps ... she sang a song that went something like "I hope there are Harleys in heaven/or what would the angels ride?" which everyone LOVED. Minnie and Sparky decided to take off from there (it was getting a little on the late side by this time) but I chose to ride with the group all the way to the day's destination in Oxnard. One of the Changing Gears ladies, who was caging it in the support van, asked if I could ride her two-up the rest of the way, and I said, sure, why not? So I actually had a passenger for the last leg of the trip and let me tell you, I did FINE with it. I am not nearly as terrified of having a passenger as I used to be!

The group ended up in Oxnard without anything eventful happening, always a good thing, and after a little more socializing, I said my goodbyes and headed on home. It was a long day and I was awfully tired by the end of it, but what a GREAT time it was! Such a pleasure to meet you, Jean, and I hope the rest of your adventure is splendid beyond words. (BTW, Jean thought our Southern California scenery is pretty awesome. Yep, they've been riding some great roads. But I kept telling her, if you think this is great, just wait 'til you get up in Northern Cali! That has got to be some of the prettiest riding ANYWHERE.)

Rock on and ride safe, ladies ...

Back from Vegas Bike Fest

Home safe and sound from Vegas, I went to the Bike Fest there over the weekend. It was fun and I got to meet a bunch of cool folks from the WWR board, but I think bike rallies just aren't my thing. Many bikers -- many DRUNK bikers -- racing up and down the Strip at all hours? Getting beer baths while you're trying to walk through the crowd on Fremont Street? I prefer to stay away from the big events, thank you. I'd rather be riding than talking about riding, anyway.

I played roulette all weekend, and ended up about $75 ahead. Better than losing, but no one is ever going to call me a high roller. LOL

It was VERY windy coming home, plus the usual Sunday back-to-LA traffic made me crazy, I was lanesplitting even though I was still on the Nevada side of the line! Illegal!! Oh well, no tickets ;)

Back home, and back online

A quick entry to say I made it back home on Friday September 3rd. 16 days, just under 6000 miles, a barrelful of adventures! Unfortunately, when I got back my computer was down; the monitor gave up the ghost while I was out of town. I have just now gotten a replacement. (Thanks, Kay!) Now I'll be able to check my email and start writing up my road stories.

This blog lets me postdate entries, so you'll see stuff showing up from two weeks ago as I start transcribing my journal notes. I'm looking forward to writing down all the wonderful images in my head.

Day Sixteen

Start: Kingman AZ (23670)
End: Sherman Oaks CA (24012)
342 miles
5951 miles total

One last day on the road, and I'm anxious to get home! Today's ride is uneventful, just more medatative miles clicking off through the California deserts. I think about the people fleeing the Dustbowl, making the Grapes of Wrath journey across this barren terrain in old jalopies piled with all the possessions they could carry. What did they think of this empty terrain? Did it crush their dreams, or only serve to heighten them, heading towards the promises of California? The town of Essex CA takes the cake on this trip with their Middle Of Freakin' Nowhere prices for gas and a soda. Unleaded (87) is $3.80/gallon. A can of Coke is two dollars. Onward, onward. Heading into Barstow, one more thing breaks on the bike. The spot weld on the lightbar gives way and -- clunk -- suddenly the auxillary headlights tip down and point at the ground. Oops! I stop (needed more gas anyway) and ziptie 'em to the frame, which doesn't fix the problem, but will keep them from flying off until I can get home and fix them. This is a pretty normal occurance for bikers, things just go wrong and ya gotta make do with what you have. Over the Cajon Pass and back into greater Los Angeles, it's a glad thing to be back on my familiar home roads, even traffic doesn't annoy me too much. I arrive home mid-afternoon, safe and sound. It's been a wonderful journey, my first cross-country trip and I've done it solo. I have ridden just under 6,000 miles, all of 'em good for my soul. Thanks to the Goddess for watching over me on this trip, and bringing me home again.

Day Fifteen

Start: Gallup NM (23311)
End: Kingman AZ (23670)
359 miles

Today, I'll take a little time for sightseeing. I'm making such good time on this return trip that I can have an easy day today! Let's see, pull out the map ... Arizona has some lovely, lovely places. I'm within easy reach of a Grand Canyon detour, but I've seen it before. Instead I decide to visit the Petrified Forest National Park and the Painted Desert.

I take the loop road off I-40 and pay the entrance fee, and stop at the visitor's center, spending some time to chat with the usual friendly volunteers there. From there it's a lovely ride through the park. I stop to have a long look around the Painted Desert Inn, a marvelous building constructed in the 1930's. The design of the building and the interior frescos are simply wonderful. There's a busload of elderly tourists getting ready to head out as I arrive, and a few ladies greet me, and take a look at the loaded bike and ask me how far I'm traveling. I can tell they're slightly appalled & slightly elated at a single woman on the road. They make me grin.

Riding through the park reveals vista after vista of spectacular scenery. I am heading north to south, which takes me first through the Painted Desert and its wonderous colors, then into the Petrified Forest area of the park. I stop and look around a pueblo area, and then at a petroglyph site. I park near a U-Haul that I've been seeing on I-40 for a day and a half. It's funny how you'll see the same cars & trucks over and over on the road. I'll pass a slower vehicle, but need to stop for gas much more frequently than it will, so it will get ahead of me again while I'm at a gas station, so I end up playing leapfrog with some vehicles all day long. This particular U-Haul is towing a car with Minnesota plates. Walking up to the petroglyph overview, there are two pair of people there, a youngish couple who are leaving and what looks to be a mother & daughter. I overhear the mother talking to the daughter and the accent could be straight out of the movie Fargo, so when I say hello to them, I say, "You must be the ones with the U-Haul and the Minnesota car." It's good for a laugh and we strike up traveller's conversation. The daughter is starting college and they are on the way to getting her moved in for her freshman year. I congratulate her and ask her where she's enrolled. "USC," she says. "Oh, very good school, but I did some undergrad work at UCLA," I say, laughing, "so don't hold that against me." "Are you from Los Angeles?" asks the mother. "Yeah, I'm heading back home to Sherman Oaks." More smiles ... amazingly, that's exactly where they're headed! The kid already has a room rented somewhere in my town. I guess it is a very small world, indeed. We talk awhile longer, then wish each other a safe journey. I head further south. Painted desert gives way to stark landscapes dotted with piles of petrified wood. It is strange-looking and very raw. Wind is kicking up by the time I reach the south end of the park. Time to get back on the highway and make miles.

I work my way back to I-40 and continue west. Oh, the wind gets fiercer and fiercer, and I'm not too happy about it. It's difficult riding, gusty and tiring and so dry that I feel like the moisture is being dragged out of my body with every breath. I am buffeted by trucks and fight to keep my lane. Something's not right ... the wind noise is incredibly loud and getting louder. Then, my visor breaks. It won't stay closed, popping open a half-inch to let in an unbearable roar of wind blasting straight into my face. I swear quite a bit and slow way down, and pull off at the next available stop, which is a highway rest area. I examine my helmet & find that I've lost one of the little plastic screws that hold the visor, and the remaining three are loose. I tighten them, which fixes the popping-open problem, but it's temporary at best. I resolve to stop at the first likely place to buy a replacement.

That place is Flagstaff Harley Davidson (actually in Bellemont AZ) which charges me a few bucks for a set of three fasteners emblazoned with the HD logo, which I find amusing ... somehow, I don't think that's what Shoei intended, but hey, whatever works. Next door is the Route 66 Roadhouse Cafe, which seems like a good spot for a late lunch. It's mostly empty, since I am there during off hours midweek. The setup there is that you order ... burger or steak or hotdogs or whatever ... and the waitress brings you your meat and you cook it yourself on a huge stainless grill at one end of the room. This would have been better if I hadn't felt so exhausted from the tough riding, but I've already ordered so I just go with it. Cook, eat up, and leave. (Later, I found out that I had missed running into my riding pal Jen there, who was on her way to Colorado, by mere minutes. Again with the small world!)

I come down out of the mountains and cross western Arizona, and it's a fairly miserable day, with the wind and all. I knock off early in Kingman AZ and get a room for the night. I had thought to make it to the California border, but it's just been too tiring to fight gusts all day. It was actually a wind advisory in effect today, but tomorrow should be better weather.

Next: Day Sixteen

Day Fourteen

Start: Elk City OK (22735)
End: Gallup NM (23311)
576 miles

Oh, EWWW. Want to know the reason NOT to stay in a no-name cheapo hotel? The BUGS.

I dress and clear out of that waterbug-infested mess at sunup. Good riddance. The icky crawly feelings get blown away by the good clean wind of the highway. An hour into my day, I've crossed over into the Texas panhandle, and I am feeling good once more. Next stop, Amarillo, where I think I'll have breakfast. I've been seeing billboards for The Big Texan, a famous restaurant in Amarillo, Home Of The Free 72 Oz Steak! No, I'm not gonna attempt to eat four and a half pounds of beef for breakfast, but hey! I feel the need to do some silly touristy sightseeing around now. Since Oklahoma City I've been on the highway that replaced Route 66, and I've been seeing lots and lots of billboards for touristy stuff and 66 nostalgia spots and things like that.

It's a funny thing about billboards, ya know. I used to consider them eyesores, urban blight, and wished someone would tear 'em all down. But once you get out of the cities and into the wide open spaces, they sort of become your friends. Most days, I've been riding places where there is a whole lot of nothing, just farmlands or empty space. You can go for many miles without seeing any signs; then, when you spot one, you know you are coming up to something. The good signs will tell you you're ten miles away from a truck stop with a Subway shop, or the best pork chops in Tennessee, or the LIVE! Two-Headed Rattlesnake, or whatever! And then you know you'll have the opportunity to get gas and have a little stretch, or a bite to eat, or just a look-see at roadside America weirdness, if it strikes your fancy. The signs give you something to look at and to think about besides the stripe on the road. Billboards are an inherant part of a road trip. I have grown to welcome them during my days of travel.

The Big Texan certainly does not disappoint. It's gaudy, hysterically funny in its unabashed touristy excess. It's still early, and I am one of only five customers in their immense dining hall. I get a (normal-sized) steak and eggs for breakfast, along with biscuits and gravy which are absolutely delicious. Pleasantly stuffed, I figure to make this my big meal for the day. In the parking lot, I watch a cowboy guy unload a horse from a trailer and walk him around, much as you'd walk a dog who's been cooped up in the back seat of a car. The horse obediently poops in an out-of-the-way corner of the lot. Heh. Texas.

It's only about 175 miles across the Texas panhandle, so I am in New Mexico before I know it. Road time. I sail along, back in territory that is starting to look familiar to me. I am passing through rangeland and open desert, instead of forests and river valleys and endless greenery. Now that I've left the South and Texas behind me, the people I talk to are starting to sound more like I do, as well. ;) I climb mountains and pass through Clines Corner NM, the elevation above 7,000 ft making the weather unexpectedly chilly for this first day of September, and roll through Albuquerque around midday. It's a fairly large city, but otherwise New Mexico is empty empty empty. Riding these highways is a kind of meditation. Thank the Goddess I learned to ride a motorcycle last year. It's not an exaggeration to say it's saved my sanity. I went through some hard times last spring, an ugly breakup with a woman who I still love deeply, and it took me a long while to reach my peace with it. Learning to ride has been part of that healing. Riding is something that I had always wanted to do, and more importantly, something that called to me in some deep, unknown part of my soul. Riding is when I feel most in harmony. These days & weeks on the road, I feel better than I have felt in a long time.

Storm clouds do little more than weakly threaten by late afternoon, but never get serious about it, so I keep on riding until close to sunset. I stop for the night in Gallup, humming the Route 66 song. A lot of people ask me if I am in town for the Four Corners rally, which is this weekend. Wish I could stay for it, but I've got no time and a yearning to get my butt home, and I'm only two days out now.

Next: Day Fifteen