Make the voices stop:
Fresh out of San Diego, I look down at the speedo. Running about 3 over the limit, my usual. Brain: "Not good enough. You'll end up crying the blues 'cause ya ran outa time." Conscience: "Don't go riding like a fool and end up with a speeding ticket. It's not worth it, just behave yourself." Wrist: "I think I'll dial it up to 6 over. Nice round number." Brain: "Fine, but don't get sloppy." Conscience: "I can live with that, but don't push you're luck. I've dealt with you guys too many times before, and you KNOW i'm always right." Brain: "Hmmmph." Wrist: No response. Must be busy trying to focus... Anyway, while this conversation's going on, I'm noting a couple things. The temperature is wonderful. I tell myself, "Enjoy it while you can."
There are three things in this life you KNOW:
You are gonna pay taxes, you're gonna meet your maker one day (I'm looking forward to that, actually), and this nice weather is only temporary. So I'm riding along, thoroughly enjoying the scenery. Question: could somebody please tell me why it's so hard to keep a motorcycle in it's lane when you're checking out the scenery? In the cage, it's a piece of cake. On the bike, it's murder. One thing's for sure: since I already recognize that it's murder, and take extra precautions as a result, what seems like murder is not likely to turn into suicide, if you know what I mean.
Sell everything?
Anyway, I'm so very jealous of you west coasters who get to enjoy these mountain roads and this amazing scenery. The rest of you: If you've never been out west to see all this, sell everything that isn't tied down, like the dog, the kids, the wife... what ever, and take a trip out west. You've got to see it to believe it. Honestly, pictures just don't do it justice. For example: some mountains look like a pile of marbles, smooth and polished; while others must be a collision between splintered wood and fresh accidented windshield chunkies. (The butchered English is deliberate, save the advice). Put em all on one plate, and maybe stitch 'em together with those goofy power lines that ya find yerself starin' at for hours on end, and what a picture it all becomes. The finest artists on the planet can't capture what the Master has painted: reminds me a little of Romans 1:20. Don't know that one? Look it up. But this scenery: it's something you feel as much as something you see. Ja jest gotta be a sicklin' man to knowwhatImeanjellybean. DISCLAIMER: I've got pictures, zillions. But we've seen them all, really. I'll leave it to the other master photogs on this forum to handle that. See the first paragraph of this thread on page one for my intentions in writing this whole thing. My pics will usually take a different direction.
Back to the action: the curves are starting to get tighter. The speedlimit is still the same, but those yellow diagonal warning signs are becoming more numerous. The guardrails are getting rather colorful; too many have tasted the mountain's wrath here. Studying the guard rails, I think I'm hearing voices... "The faster ya go, the funner it gets, big boy." Conscience: "Tell the guard rails to SHUT UP." Look at speedo: 6 over... lookin' good. Somewhere in the midst of this conversation, some young fool on a crotch rocket comes blastin' by. This time it didn't scare the snot outa me because I saw him coming up in the rear-view.
Mission Impossible?
He was really smoking. Brain to wrist: "common, just this once, he ain't got nothin." But the mission here is to finish this coast to coast run in one piece, and hopefully able to say that I didn't destroy every speed limit in the country to do so. Besides, driving like that carries a high price. So as I watch Ratchet-wrist go by, I said to him, "You'll get yours, soon enough. Maybe not today, but soon enough." Unfortunately, the echo from his screaming exhaust drowned out my voice. For me, it was, "Use your head and stick to the game plan." So I kept tooling along and behaving myself, enjoying some of the most amazing scenery while I watched the jester dancing through traffic in some desperate attempt to entertain his inner demons.
Sewing and Reaping
One nice side effect of making the wrist behave: you can spend a little more time actually enjoying the sights. Now, hold on to your seat, ladies. Double check your seat belt. Are you ready for this? About 20 minutes later as I came around one of the final corners coming out of the mountains, and using engine braking to keep the speed in check, guess what I discovered? A number of Bible verses came to mind. "They that live by the sword die by the sword." and "Be sure your sin will find you out." and "Be not deceived... whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap."
Where are the cops when ya need 'em?
Once again, as I have seen so many times before, justice was served. The boys in blue got their man. Ratchet wrist was sitting on the side of the road watching those beautiful blue lights flashing in the rearview mirrors of his sidelined crutchrocket. "Crutch?" Yup, you read that right. 'Cause once he's free to go, he'll be usin' it to LIMP back home, tail between his shakin' legs. HotRodZilla coulda nabbed this guy EASY, but he was probably too busy workin' on more important things back in Albuquerque
Why oh why didn't I break out the camera? What a great pic this would have been. Probably too busy smiling.
Note: "Conscience, you were right again. Thanks for showing up during that big debate a while back..."
8:40 am Yuma, AZ
Pulled into my first gas stop, happy that the temps weren't too bad yet and hopin' to get back on the road ASAP. The first stop, I didn't do too bad. On the road in short order and continued on my way. I'm about half way through my journey across I-8 to reach the point where it will merge with I-10. However, this was the last stop I'd make before the sweat began to roll.
Gary
darksider #44
