Dad here; it occurred to me this weekend that it has been TWO WHOLE YEARS since my last motorcycle trip out west. And that one was strictly business, as it was to spread Marty’s cremains(Marty’s particles, or “Marticles”)from atop Ophir Pass in Colorado.
How does this just happen? This is not the me that I used to know, as traveling, preferably by motorcycle, is what has always been what Charlie is all about. But the cares of life are notorious for stealing one’s mojo. And Charlie’s getting older, and her days of long distance riding under often adverse conditions have come to an end. Because her riding is limited, I have been limiting my own, or is that just an excuse?
If you don’t use it, you’ll lose it; that doesn’t just apply to one’s ability, but also to one’s desire. I have recently caught myself questioning if I am still in love with traveling or just is it just the “thought” of traveling that intrigues me; is the hardship and expense still worth it? These joints aren’t getting any younger…
But things have been snapped back into focus with the events of the last couple of months; the mini-stroke. The knee from hell. The constant uncertainty in my business, with interest rates rising and inventory falling; how can I justify taking off when so much needs done at home? But after being forced into involuntary immobility by the knee for almost two weeks, I decided that if and when I recovered, I was once again going mobile, even if it meant taking the car.
But Charlie’s story has always been driven by two wheels, not four, so there is that to be considered.
Last week, my good buddy Tom drowned. At 67 years old, he was out doing what Tom loved, ripping around in the mountains on his Husqvarna 701, when he came across a usually docile creek crossing. This time, the creek was NOT docile, but enraged at the amount of rainfall it had been forced to accommodate, and it took out it’s angst on Tom. I’ll spare you the details, but I have a hard time being sad, as Tom went out doing exactly what he loved. None of us are promised tomorrow; we must get our rides in today.
So, we’re going west again. Whereas I would usually just stop, drop, and roll, there are some things coming up at the Casa that cannot be ignored. The sidecar is to finished sometime during the first of May, and a trip down to Texas will be necessary to pick her up. Then on May 18, we ride in the opening ceremonies of Special Olympics, hadn’t missed one in twelve years when Covid shut it down. Well, the ride is once again happening after a four year hiatus, and I’m not going to miss it, actually have every intention of utilizing the sidecar and taking the kids for rides if everything works out.
And yesterday I submitted Charlie’s children’s book to various illustrators for consideration. The response has been great, but I am determined to find the perfect artist to capture Her Royal Highness’ divanicity, if such a thing is even possible. We might have to do some fundraising for this, as good illustrators are proving to be expensive and justfiably so; you get what you pay for.
That puts us at the first of June. While the Rocky Mountain passes might still be socked in with record snowfall this year, we might just have to head out anyway. But who is this “we” that I speak of?
Sir Mac o’ the Duff.
I fully believe that The Duffster was placed in my path to ease the transition of Charlie’s duties. That being the case, who am I to deny him his chance to fulfill his own ministry? And any comments such as “don’t you think Charlie will be jealous?” will be loftily ignored, deleted, or ridiculed, but maybe not in that particular sequence. Charlie can still handle the miles, but it’s the jumping up and down from the Charkstream multiple times a day that take it out of the old girl’s hips and shoulders, so it’s MacDuff’s turn to go vagabonding with Dad.
Just saying a thing can speak it into being; writing it down gives it the impetus that it takes to make it a reality; a good, hard journey needs to happen to get the page back on track. If you would like to contribute to the cause, Mom’s PayPal is Mojo@arkrider.com and the Patreon donation link is listed below…
We be of one blood, ye and I.
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