Summer Road Trip 2014_Final Thoughts

I awoke Friday morning exhausted; as if someone had put on boxing gloves and gently but consistently pummeled me from head to toe. I dreaded the long journey ahead of us.

Since arriving in Indiana early Wednesday morning, it had been  a whirlwind of responsibilities. Mine were minimal compared to what my brother and sister had already had to do to arrange the funeral, tie up loose ends, and cover all the bases that need covering when a parent dies.

After the service and dinner at the church, I think we all felt a foreboding. Our Grandparents were gone,  our Mom was gone, our Dad was gone…..who does the family gather around from this point forward? We were all at loose ends.

The trip back to Florida would be another ‘get on the super slab and ride’ kinda trip….the worst. I-75 South is congested with traffic, and the Weather Gods were not going to be in our favor today.  We gulped a cup of coffee, my brother gave me a hug and we TRIED to slip out quietly….but when you fire up two Harley Davidsons at 530a….its not exactly quiet.

The ride down SR3 to Russiaville is always enjoyable. The air is cool and lush with the fecund smell of fresh earth and crops. The corn is more than knee high for the Fourth of July….but the tears flow, and I am sad all over again. Sad to be leaving my Dad, sad to be leaving Indiana, and sad for my family who have to pick up the pieces. The tears slide off my cheeks and the wind takes them; it is comforting to be astride Bessie. Once again, a motorcycle has saved my life.

In Spiceland, I spy a little restaurant with several pick up trucks out front, which usually means the locals eat there….farmers, or retired guys who gather everyday for fellowship and coffee.  We park the bikes and walk in….sure enough, eight old guys assembled at a long table, as if they are holding council. Conversation stops when we walk in, all heads turn, I say, ‘Are we in time for the meeting?’ they chuckle, give us a ‘good morning,’ then return to their conversation.  One glance at the menu tells me, ‘yep, I’m still in Indiana.’ Fried bologna is an item on the breakfast menu, along with fried mush (one of my grandfathers favorites). Who DIDN’T grow up in Indiana and eat fried bologna?? I pass on it for breakfast today however.

Fortified with food and a resolve to make it halfway home today, we pick up I-74 to Cincinnati and say good bye to the last two lane road we will travel until we get to Florida. I don’t listen to music very much when I’m on the bike….today I chose to just be ‘alone’ with my thoughts. The weather was good for most of the morning, but severe weather – once again – was threatening our afternoon travel.  It was frustrating to pass Cumberland Gap, Cherohala Skyway, Tail of the Dragon, and the Great Smokey Mountains and NOT be able to ride some of the awesome roads that wind their way through the mountains of Tennessee and Kentucky.  Fortunately, I told myself, I have already done those roads and todays business was to get home to Florida.

I made it a point to stop in London Kentucky however, at Wildcat Harley Davidson. I usually make this stop each time I travel 75; they have a great dealership with a lounge set up for travelers who are biking the aforementioned roads.  Their merchandise manager is creative as well and you normally find things in this dealership that are unique. We shop and rest for over an hour – packing our already stuffed bags even fuller – then inquire about a place to eat.  We are directed to the Old Town Grille and I have to say, it is one of the best places we have stopped to eat on this whole trip. Especially the service – how often can you brag about the service you receive in restaurants today??? – down home hospitality that made me feel like I just wanted to move right in and stay awhile. Food was awesome too!  By the time we finished shopping and eating, weather was threatening to the south; we donned rain gear in the parking lot of the restaurant and headed into the storm.  It rained almost all the way from London Kentucky to Dalton Georgia; once becoming so bad we couldn’t see, so I took the first exit I COULD see which was a rest area with no facilities! We parked the bikes and ran for cover under some trees, which really didn’t provide that much shelter from the downpour!  The deluge subsided after about 45 minutes under the trees, so we headed back out. 

Finally made it to Dalton about 7p; I love the Georgia mountains, but I’m too exhausted to care at this point. I climb off my bike, and while Paul is checking us in, I have a mini meltdown right there in the parking lot of the Hampton Inn.

After a quick dinner, we settle in, both bone weary and drift off to a deep sleep. It is interrupted by my cell phone a little after midnight, and my daughter’s ring tone ‘Material Girl,’ calling me to wakefulness. Oh no, not again please….I hate these middle of the night phone calls. She is home in Florida, but the keyless entry ran out of batteries and no one has a key (this would have happened to Paul and I too if we had gotten home first). She goes to my friend Julie’s , who lives in our neighborhood – Thank God – and stays there for the night. I am now restless and cannot get back to sleep. Morning comes way too soon and when I swing my legs over the side of the bed, I feel as though they cannot work on their own!  My arms, my legs……my fine motor skills have forgotten how to function. Another melt down before breakfast, this is not good, not good at all.

We pack the bikes and head south; Atlanta traffic starts getting thick just south of Dalton. Cars start whooshing past me and I start to hyperventilate – WTF?!  I take the first exit, whip into a gas station, get off my bike, nearly falling as I dismount because my legs won’t work, and just stand with my hands on my knees, hyper-ventilating. Poor Paul, he has been responsible for helping me keep it together for over a week now, and he has never seen me NOT be able to handle my bike in all kinds of road/weather conditions. I tell him he is going to have to take the lead through Atlanta, I just need to follow. Somehow I manage to get through Atlanta and on down the road. The day is long, the heat kicks into high gear as we cross the Mason Dixon line (where we wear the weather). We stop frequently, me trying to keep focused and just get home. No stopping today for shopping or sightseeing….barely lunch.

Twenty miles from home we see the sky darkening to the south on SR27. A fitting end to our journey, we are going to get slammed again with wind and rain. I stop to cover my back, I look at Paul and say, ‘I’m not putting that rain gear on again.’ He was okay with that. I climb back on Bessie, look at Paul and say, ‘I ain’t skeered, are you skeered?’ which is our saying for when we face difficult obstacles on the road. He looks at me and says, ‘Nah, I ain’t skeered, lets hit it.’ And off we roar into the approaching storm.

The temp drops, the wind kicks across and the rain slams into us….hard.  Its tough to see the cars in front of me, but I grip the handlebars, grit my teeth and lean into it. The rain stings my hands and face, the wind chills my wet skin.  It is refreshing in a macabre sense, a baptism of sorts, a renewal….because I am ALIVE. We pull into our subdivision, and as soon as we clear the guardhouse, the rain stops and a rainbow appears….seriously, its like the director of this movie said, ‘Cue the rainbow!’  A sign of renewal.  I pull over to snap a photo, and then we pull into our garage. I climb off, my daughter comes out to greet us and I just dissolve in her arms, a teary mess, never so grateful to be home.

Bessie will go to X-Tech for her post road trip maintenance, then to the ‘day spa,’ where my detail guy will take her apart, clean every inch of her, polish chrome, and generally rejuvenate her.  Paul heads out to work in New York this next week….and me? I will return to renovating the house, engaging in some writing, gardening, and generally starting to heal.

“It is good to have an end to journey towards; but it is the journey that matters in the end. “