becauseihavenowife.com
| following Andy Polley as he travels around the world... |
So I had been out west. You know, the other side of the Mississippi River.
You see, I went to Colorado with the fam back in 1993. 11 years old...in a
mini-van and a pop-up camper. It just doesn't get much better than that.
Tornadoes in Kansas, the drive up Pike's Peak, it was all worth it.
Well, I don't know when it hit me. I really don't. But it did. Really hard. It
was a realization really. Nothing profound, but a strong one, nonetheless.
And it went something like this...
"Polley, you've never been past Colorado!!!"
See, I told you it was simple. In my sweet 22 years, I had been content with
just makin' it to Colorado. I had hit up Kansas a couple of times, been
down to Texas and even New Mexico...but I realized there was somethin'
more to be had.
Like California.
So I started dreaming. No, no, not those night dreams. Granted, those
are fun, and I often share the ones I can remember...just ask my sister!
But I'm talkin' 'bout the day dreams. What you think about when you're
alone in your truck...or cruisin' down the back roads on a
motorcycle...those type of dreams.
And somewhere along the way, it just sorta happened. I made the decision
to take a bike trip to California. I must admit that this was a bit of an
alteration from a previous dream I had had years earlier. I had wanted to
bike (as in pedal!) from Los Angeles to Virginia Beach...straight across the
country. I was going to allot a month to do it in...poundin' out about 3000
miles after all was said and done. Well, I could never find an entire month
to take off, so I had to use what I was given. A week and a half of vacation
time.
It would have to work.
So I start planning ahead. Ok, so who am I fooling...all I needed was a
bike. That was enough planning for me. So I did what any sane
22-year-old internet-savvy student would do: I started perusin' eBay.
And lo and behold, I found a beauty. A 1988 Honda GL1500 Goldwing.
Complete with all the bells and whistles. Located a couple of states away.
No problem.
I called the guy, told him I wanted his bike, and a transaction was to follow.
My ma and pa drove me over to Indiana, and I met the guy. I gave him his
money, and he gave me my bike. Good thing, too...because I was
supposed to leave in less than two weeks!!!!
I drove the bike home, and I loved it. Cruise control, driver's back rest,
radio...you name anything that shouldn't be on a motorcycle, and it was
there!
So the bike sat in the garage for a couple of weeks. The next thing on the
"To-Do List" was to pack. Now let me remind you I am taking a motorcycle
out west. To California. Oh, and I should mention here that I invited my
sister along for the ride. She would ride shotgun...er, um, handgun.
So we have two people (one being a female), and one motorcycle.
Granted, the motorcycle has three storage compartments, but it's still a
motorcycle. So I packed some shirts, some shorts, a pair of pants, and
probably some toiletries. And I stuffed it all in my saddlebag. My sis got
the other saddlebag, and we used the trunk for all the bedding...i.e.
pillows, sleeping bag, comforter, and tent! Needless to say, it was a tight
fit all around.
Well, as the day for departure approaches, I get more and more stoked.
I'm goin' to Californ I A! I pretty much told everyone and their mom. The
moms usually listened, too!
Here was the "plan," if you could call it that.
1. Go to the first part of a meeting I needed to be at. Leave the parking
lot around 7:30 P.M.
2. Travel the 3 hours to pick up my sister from a conference down south.
3. Spend the night, wake up early in the morning, and then head west!
4. Arrive in California.
Pretty simple. But I'm a pretty simple guy.
Well, I should have known it from the start. I should've...but I didn't. You
see, I don't do plans so well. Because plans tend to...well...
Ok, can I tell you how excited I am about this trip? I mean, seriously. I am
taking a motorcycle to California!!! How awesome is that?!
It's roughly 2000 miles out there...around 30 hours or so one-way. So
we've got some ground to cover each day! The plan is to be gone for 9
days. I mean, I've got to get back and work!
The bike is running great. I'm only 45 minutes away from my sister, and
she's purring like a kitten. The bike. I'm out on some country roads, and
the weather is beautiful. A little on the warm side, but beautiful! I would
take this weather with me out west if I could!
Let me see if I can set the stage for you a bit...
Rule #1--If you know anything about bikes, you know you usually have one
response. You've got to make the best one, because when you're on two
wheels, you might not get a second chance.
Rule #2--There isn't a Rule #2, but I hate just having one rule, because my
teachers always taught me that when making lists, you have to have more
than one, and no less than three.
Rule #3--Please read the above paragraph, and then skip this one after
you are done.
Here's how my mind played out in a total of 0.35 seconds:
"Whoa!"
"No time to brake! Too dangerous!"
"Gotta try to miss it!"
"Take the shoulder!"
"Please don't move!"
"If it moves..."
"Rev it up!"
"Brace for impact!"
BOOM!!! Complete and total darkness.
And I'm not joking when I write this...these words actually come out of my
mouth and break the silence. "You have got to be kidding me."
I wish I could unpack those words for you, but I can't. It's like a kid who has
just watched his dog die in front of him. Or a Cubs fan who just watched
95 years of redemption slip away when a simple six outs could have done
it. Or an independent boy at heart who had a dream of swimmin' on the
beaches of the west coast....but was stopped...
BY A DEER.
I plum nailed that beast at 65 miles per hour. There really wasn't much I
could do. It was dark. No, I mean, like southern-Illinois-you-can't-get-there-
from-here dark. I was 9 miles from the town south of me, and 10 miles
from one north of me. Farmland all around. The only lights were natural.
Well, those stars and my headlight.
But by time I saw her, it was too late to brake. She was straddling the
double-stripe, facing to the right. I couldn't go behind her. Too far a move
and quite dangerous on this road. I didn't have any room in the middle.
She was guarding that. My only two options were to skid-brake from 65
down to 20 and probably still hit her, all while holding the bike from
swerving...or take the paved shoulder, and try to gun it by her. I chose the
latter.
I momentarily released the throttle right when I saw her, but when I realized
I had no other option, I went hard to the right. And pulled back.
I can still see her body move. Just as I'm getting ready to pass her, she
sorta pounces down on all four legs in the quickest of moves. She is
getting ready to move off of her yellow stripe. And all I feel is the sudden
jolt of a 100-pound deer hitting a 65 miles per hour motorcycle. Head on.
I instantly lose my headlights. I hear glass sliding along the highway. I
quickly downshift and slow the bike down. I need to get off the road,
though, and I need this bike to keep running. Because I didn't know if it
would or not, I drove about another 300 feet, and then pulled over in a
driveway. I can barely see anything at all. Just stay on the road as your
eyes adjust. Well, at least the bike had made it this far.
I went back and collected some pieces of my motorcycle. And then I saw
her. The deer. She was dead. Like real dead. With a spiral of blood
thrown across the highway in a poetic form. I walked up to her, and I have
had no greater urge in life. I wanted to kick her. I wanted to pound the
living snot out of her. And to this day, the only reason I did not melee her
was that I would feel weird telling that story to someone. I had pity on her
because I thought about the future. Well, that, and she was dead. But at
that moment in time, that didn't really bother me.
Stupid deer.
I walked back to my bike, and I called some people. I called Dad.
"Hey, I've been in an accident." Seriously, how many times has he heard
that from my mouth?! I usually don't give them any warning, and he could
probably only think of one thing: Andy is riding a motorcycle.
"Are you OK?" "Yeah, Dad, I'm fine. But the bike isn't." "Are you sure
you're OK?" "Yeah, I'll be fine." "Do we need to come get you? Are you
sure you're OK?"
My parents know me well enough to know that I would fight through some
minor setbacks if I would have to. As in, "Andy, we know you have a
broken arm and road rash, and we really think that you should postpone
this trip." "Nah, Dad, I'll be fine, really."
That's just how I roll. So my job quickly became convincing my father that I
was indeed OK this time. No harm to me at all. Well, except to my dream.
And that wound ran pretty deep! But when I see something I'm committed
to, I go get it.
And so I told my dad to stay at home. I was going to assess the damage in
the morning. After all, I was on my way to California.
I call 911. They pretty much figure that since no one is hurt, and that I
don't need towed, that they will take care of me later. What is more, I had
the accident at the border of two counties. I hit the deer on one side of the
sign, and I end up parking the bike on the other. So that confused them
any more. I was tossed around from dispatch to office to office for quite
some time. I had to call people back. I had to wait for calls back from
officers. And those calls never came.
And neither did the police. No officer ever came out. They ended up
calling me the next morning and had me file a report via phone. Interesting
way of handling things, I guess.
Well, here's my situation. I am in the middle of nowhere. My bike has no
light. It is absolutely undriveable. I see three houses within walking
distance, and NOTHING beyond them. And one antique mall.
So I go to my bike, and I try to start it again. She starts right up. Like
nothing ever happened. Amazing, I think. So I drive it down the road a bit
to the antique mall. This is going to have to be my motel.
I walk to the house next door. No one home. Across the street...no one
home. But I am soooo hot. I think about breaking in, but I decide against
it. So I walk around the first house until I find a hose. And I drink all the
water I can. I would frequent that house much in the next couple hours.
Then I head back to the scene of the crime. This time with a camera in
hand. And I take pictures of the deer. And of the road. And more of the
deer. She's still dead. Like real dead.
I realize that I've lost several pieces from my motorcycle, so I walk down a
long driveway that I saw a truck pull into. I am pretty sure I scare the man
to death, so I keep my distance, telling the story as trustingly as I could.
He had seen the deer as he was coming to his drive, so my story was
plausible. He lends me a flashlight and even drives me back to the road. I
find a few more pieces of my bike (and the one big piece that I needed),
then head back to my motel.
I also call my sister.
"Hey, I'm not going to make it tonight."
"Why not?"
"Well, I hit a deer."
"Oh, ok."
I'm not sure if she really understood the impact of my statement, but I
shrugged it off. She just took it in stride! "So I'll be there sometime
tomorrow morning. I'm going to go to a bike shop and try to have things
fixed."
Did I mention that I'm goin' to California?
I pop up my tent, and I pull out my sleeping gear. Not what I had planned
on tonight. I camp on the side of the antique mall, out of sight from the
road, but not in the security light in the back. It's still a bit bright from that
light, though. And I try to sleep.
All I can think about is how my grandpa had relatives that were killed
because they camped on the side of the road. And how he ALWAYS told
me never to do the very thing I was doing.
Well, I wasn't goin' to go down easily. So I walked out to the front of the
antique mall and looked around. An old desk, a couple old plows, and
some crazy-lookin' sharp rake thing. That would work.
I took it back with me to the tent. This would have to be my weapon in
case a fight would ensue. Sure, I'd be shot, but at least the other guy
would have a rake in his gut. And a rusty one, at that.
With my rake, I was able to fall asleep.
I woke up the next morning and called my officer. That's when I filled out
the police report. I think I rid myself of the previous night's hose water (the
house had bushes), and I packed everything up.
Sister, here I come.
I roll into town 45 minutes later, and the bike is running great. I looked for
more pieces of my bike before I left, but most of them were broken or
unsalvageable. The deer was still dead. Like real dead. So I took some
more pictures. The artistic spiral was even more beautiful in the daytime.
And what is more, I didn't feel the need to kick her this time.
So I make it to town. And I go to where my sister is at. I end up picking her
up before I go to the motorcycle shops. It would just work better that way.
I needed a phone book, and this way, she would be with me.
So I call up a place. He is backlogged for a couple of weeks. I tell him my
situation, and they think they can work me in. But they don't have the part
I need.
Here is the deal: My headlight housing is gone. The glass shattered on
impact, and it took with it two very useful halogen bulbs. I have absolutely
no headlights. And that is very dangerous when you're on a motorcycle. I
must get it fixed.
Well, I call another place, and they, too, don't have the part. They can
have it shipped in in a couple of days, and the entire time I'm listening to
them, I'm thinking...I should be in California in a couple of days.
I'll try 'em out. So my sis and I drive to this place. Sorry, but we don't have
bulbs for that. "Are you kidding me?" But they point me to a place just
down the road. So I drive there. Now they do have bulbs for that. The
guy tells me it will probably take 45 minutes to install. I can handle that.
So we leave the bike and walk across the road to eat a buffet. I like eating.
And this buffet was decent. The Golden Corral. Not a bad place for food.
And good tea.
We walk back across the street, and we check on the bike. Two brand
new bulbs...goin' to cost me 'bout $30.00. Oh, well, I'm goin' to California.
I should remind you that the headlight housing is not part of this deal.
They have only replaced the bulbs behind the glass housing.
So my sis and I hop on the bike and start heading west. Well, sort of. You
see, you can't really go west from where we're at. I miss a turn, and we go
a bit out of the way, heading up to St. Louis, but we eventually get back on
track. And on the highway that we need.
As we are finishing our first day of driving, we have only made it to the
southwest corner of Missouri. I wanted to go further, but it was raining
pretty hard. We actually stopped at one point, and took cover underneath
an old gas station. And we are at the mercy of the signs, as well. I never
know when a camping place will appear, so by this time of night, I figured I
would take the next one available.
I see a sign with a tent on it, so we take the exit. As we take the frontage
road for the campgrounds, I notice my headlight dim. "You can't be
serious."
Sure enough, after I park the bike, I check it out. A raindrop has crushed
one of the bulbs. It had nothing to protect it, and it has shattered. We are
now down to one bulb.
Not much I could do. So we set up our camp, and we slept. We had miles
to hit tomorrow.
We woke up early (you always wake up early when you sleep in a tent!),
and we hit the road. This time we made it down to New Mexico. We
stopped at one of my much-talked about restaurants, The Big Texan.
They have a 72-ounce steak dinner that you can choose to eat. If you eat
it all, you get it free. When we walked in, there was a man trying the
challenge. They actually put you up on a big table in front of the entire
restaurant with a huge timer behind you! This was a big man, but he was
strugglin'! We watched the last half hour of his eating, but he didn't make
it. I don't think he took more than two bites in the last 13 minutes.
I thought about doing the challenge, but I opted against it. We were
already a day behind, and we had road to cover. The last thing we
needed was to be set back for an hour and a half to two hours. I still
regret that decision! The way I ate that evening was amazing...I'm not
sayin' I could have done it...ok, yes, I am.
Oh, I should tell you another exciting part of the story. Somewhere along
the numerous miles we traveled that day...a bug decided to make a
beeline path for my headlight. Now, hear me out. Bugs are attracted to
lights, I understand that. But I thought that was only during the night!
Well, sure enough, you could see the culprit lodged into the shattered
glass of my only remaining bulb. We were now down to no headlights.
Did I mention I was goin' to California?
I didn't even care anymore. I wasn't taking it to another shop, and I sure
wasn't waitin' around on no headlight housing. We were goin' to California.
I wish I could tell you all about the trip. I really do. How we camped in the
darkest place I've ever been in the middle of the Grand Canyon. How we
climbed down paths and hung out over thousands of feet of nothing but
air...all for a good picture. How we tried to barter with foreign-speaking
Grand Canyon tour guides...all for a helicopter ride. How we went through
the Mojave Desert in 116-degree heat. How we stopped at a rest area
only to find that there were no vending machines OR working water
fountains. How we drank out of the hose that watered the greenest tree in
the middle of the desert. How we asked some neighboring campers if they
had anything to drink...and how that led to over an hour of sharing stories
and sitting and talking with them.
How we made it to Los Angeles and swam in the ocean!!! How the bike
started dying on us in California. How it virtually quit working close to the
Nevada border. How we had to stay at a shady hotel because the bike
was not working right. How that allowed us to eat at the most ridiculous
restaurant I've ever been to...it's like old Rome in the middle of the desert.
How we barely made it to Las Vegas. How we had to drop the bike off at a
repair shop to get fixed.
How we spent two days in Las Vegas! How we watched the fountains if
front of the Bellagio, how we snuck in to a performance show...complete
with some of the strangest and funniest acts...from an old comedian to
Spanish-speaking dancers to a magician. All for FREE!
How we stayed at a hostel where we were the only Americans! And by far
the only people that spoke only one language!
How we ate at a casino just for their incredible buffet. And I do mean
incredible. It was a breakfast buffet, and we went in and gorged ourselves.
All for six bones. And how we acted like we were going to rob the place.
And how we constantly stared at the cameras and then secretly
commented about them. And how disappointed we were to find out that
the roller coaster didn't open 'til 11:00 A.M.
And how we stopped by at a place in the middle of nowhere in Utah. And
how I ate the BEST melon known to man. And how it only cost me 50
cents. And how I bought two and carried them with me on the bike so that I
could eat them later. Grrreeeeeeen Riiiiiivvverrrrrrr....
And how we had to go through a ditch to avoid an 18-wheeler that had
completely blocked the highway by tipping over sideways. And how we
were almost decapitated by a flying 4-foot by 8-foot sheet of plywood.
And how we lead the toughest pack of motorcycles through the most
beautiful country in the mountains of Colorado. We were the lead cruiser
through the wind-iest roads!
And how we had to walk at night to a country club for food because our
headlight didn't work...in the middle of Kansas. Only to find out that they
were no longer serving food! We quickly realized, as well, that everyone
there was aged 80 or over and were in town for the town's school reunion
party...for ALL years. And how we almost pointed to a couple and said
they were our grandparents just so we could eat.
And how we walked back to our motel to call a taxi to take us to a
restaurant. And how that taxi was actually a minivan, and we were some of
this couple's first customers. And how we ate at a Chinese restaurant at
9:30 P.M.
How we drove through Kansas through some rain showers. And how we
took a 15-mile (x2!) detour so that we could visit The Wizard of Oz
Museum. And how I saw Dorothy's ruby slippers. And the crazy monkey
men that still give children (insert adults here) nightmares. And how they
were real! And how I wanted one in my living room! And how I posed with
the King of the Forest.
And how we watched the storms develop, hoping to beat them out. And
how we got caught in one of the strongest storms. And how we had to
park the motorcycle on a sidewalk in front of a hardware store to get out of
the rain. And how we tried to go again, only to be stopped by the same
continuing storm. And how we camped out underneath a strip mall....on
the sidewalk...while the storm passed.
And how we couldn't make it back in time for me to go to work because of
the rain. And how we had to sleep in a motel because it was dark...and I
had no headlight. And how I woke up at 5:00 so that we could make it
back to home by 9:00, but how it was pitch black outside. And how we had
to wait an hour for the sun to rise...because I had no headlight.
And how we almost made it, but had to meet my parents on the road, so
that they could bring me "dress clothes," so that I could make my function
on time. And how I arrived 5 minutes late, with me being the only person to
know what the best previous 10 days were like.
I just wouldn't want to get you involved in all of those stories...because that
might take a long time to read. So just enjoy the pictures instead...
You see, I went to Colorado with the fam back in 1993. 11 years old...in a
mini-van and a pop-up camper. It just doesn't get much better than that.
Tornadoes in Kansas, the drive up Pike's Peak, it was all worth it.
Well, I don't know when it hit me. I really don't. But it did. Really hard. It
was a realization really. Nothing profound, but a strong one, nonetheless.
And it went something like this...
"Polley, you've never been past Colorado!!!"
See, I told you it was simple. In my sweet 22 years, I had been content with
just makin' it to Colorado. I had hit up Kansas a couple of times, been
down to Texas and even New Mexico...but I realized there was somethin'
more to be had.
Like California.
So I started dreaming. No, no, not those night dreams. Granted, those
are fun, and I often share the ones I can remember...just ask my sister!
But I'm talkin' 'bout the day dreams. What you think about when you're
alone in your truck...or cruisin' down the back roads on a
motorcycle...those type of dreams.
And somewhere along the way, it just sorta happened. I made the decision
to take a bike trip to California. I must admit that this was a bit of an
alteration from a previous dream I had had years earlier. I had wanted to
bike (as in pedal!) from Los Angeles to Virginia Beach...straight across the
country. I was going to allot a month to do it in...poundin' out about 3000
miles after all was said and done. Well, I could never find an entire month
to take off, so I had to use what I was given. A week and a half of vacation
time.
It would have to work.
So I start planning ahead. Ok, so who am I fooling...all I needed was a
bike. That was enough planning for me. So I did what any sane
22-year-old internet-savvy student would do: I started perusin' eBay.
And lo and behold, I found a beauty. A 1988 Honda GL1500 Goldwing.
Complete with all the bells and whistles. Located a couple of states away.
No problem.
I called the guy, told him I wanted his bike, and a transaction was to follow.
My ma and pa drove me over to Indiana, and I met the guy. I gave him his
money, and he gave me my bike. Good thing, too...because I was
supposed to leave in less than two weeks!!!!
I drove the bike home, and I loved it. Cruise control, driver's back rest,
radio...you name anything that shouldn't be on a motorcycle, and it was
there!
So the bike sat in the garage for a couple of weeks. The next thing on the
"To-Do List" was to pack. Now let me remind you I am taking a motorcycle
out west. To California. Oh, and I should mention here that I invited my
sister along for the ride. She would ride shotgun...er, um, handgun.
So we have two people (one being a female), and one motorcycle.
Granted, the motorcycle has three storage compartments, but it's still a
motorcycle. So I packed some shirts, some shorts, a pair of pants, and
probably some toiletries. And I stuffed it all in my saddlebag. My sis got
the other saddlebag, and we used the trunk for all the bedding...i.e.
pillows, sleeping bag, comforter, and tent! Needless to say, it was a tight
fit all around.
Well, as the day for departure approaches, I get more and more stoked.
I'm goin' to Californ I A! I pretty much told everyone and their mom. The
moms usually listened, too!
Here was the "plan," if you could call it that.
1. Go to the first part of a meeting I needed to be at. Leave the parking
lot around 7:30 P.M.
2. Travel the 3 hours to pick up my sister from a conference down south.
3. Spend the night, wake up early in the morning, and then head west!
4. Arrive in California.
Pretty simple. But I'm a pretty simple guy.
Well, I should have known it from the start. I should've...but I didn't. You
see, I don't do plans so well. Because plans tend to...well...
Ok, can I tell you how excited I am about this trip? I mean, seriously. I am
taking a motorcycle to California!!! How awesome is that?!
It's roughly 2000 miles out there...around 30 hours or so one-way. So
we've got some ground to cover each day! The plan is to be gone for 9
days. I mean, I've got to get back and work!
The bike is running great. I'm only 45 minutes away from my sister, and
she's purring like a kitten. The bike. I'm out on some country roads, and
the weather is beautiful. A little on the warm side, but beautiful! I would
take this weather with me out west if I could!
Let me see if I can set the stage for you a bit...
Rule #1--If you know anything about bikes, you know you usually have one
response. You've got to make the best one, because when you're on two
wheels, you might not get a second chance.
Rule #2--There isn't a Rule #2, but I hate just having one rule, because my
teachers always taught me that when making lists, you have to have more
than one, and no less than three.
Rule #3--Please read the above paragraph, and then skip this one after
you are done.
Here's how my mind played out in a total of 0.35 seconds:
"Whoa!"
"No time to brake! Too dangerous!"
"Gotta try to miss it!"
"Take the shoulder!"
"Please don't move!"
"If it moves..."
"Rev it up!"
"Brace for impact!"
BOOM!!! Complete and total darkness.
And I'm not joking when I write this...these words actually come out of my
mouth and break the silence. "You have got to be kidding me."
I wish I could unpack those words for you, but I can't. It's like a kid who has
just watched his dog die in front of him. Or a Cubs fan who just watched
95 years of redemption slip away when a simple six outs could have done
it. Or an independent boy at heart who had a dream of swimmin' on the
beaches of the west coast....but was stopped...
BY A DEER.
I plum nailed that beast at 65 miles per hour. There really wasn't much I
could do. It was dark. No, I mean, like southern-Illinois-you-can't-get-there-
from-here dark. I was 9 miles from the town south of me, and 10 miles
from one north of me. Farmland all around. The only lights were natural.
Well, those stars and my headlight.
But by time I saw her, it was too late to brake. She was straddling the
double-stripe, facing to the right. I couldn't go behind her. Too far a move
and quite dangerous on this road. I didn't have any room in the middle.
She was guarding that. My only two options were to skid-brake from 65
down to 20 and probably still hit her, all while holding the bike from
swerving...or take the paved shoulder, and try to gun it by her. I chose the
latter.
I momentarily released the throttle right when I saw her, but when I realized
I had no other option, I went hard to the right. And pulled back.
I can still see her body move. Just as I'm getting ready to pass her, she
sorta pounces down on all four legs in the quickest of moves. She is
getting ready to move off of her yellow stripe. And all I feel is the sudden
jolt of a 100-pound deer hitting a 65 miles per hour motorcycle. Head on.
I instantly lose my headlights. I hear glass sliding along the highway. I
quickly downshift and slow the bike down. I need to get off the road,
though, and I need this bike to keep running. Because I didn't know if it
would or not, I drove about another 300 feet, and then pulled over in a
driveway. I can barely see anything at all. Just stay on the road as your
eyes adjust. Well, at least the bike had made it this far.
I went back and collected some pieces of my motorcycle. And then I saw
her. The deer. She was dead. Like real dead. With a spiral of blood
thrown across the highway in a poetic form. I walked up to her, and I have
had no greater urge in life. I wanted to kick her. I wanted to pound the
living snot out of her. And to this day, the only reason I did not melee her
was that I would feel weird telling that story to someone. I had pity on her
because I thought about the future. Well, that, and she was dead. But at
that moment in time, that didn't really bother me.
Stupid deer.
I walked back to my bike, and I called some people. I called Dad.
"Hey, I've been in an accident." Seriously, how many times has he heard
that from my mouth?! I usually don't give them any warning, and he could
probably only think of one thing: Andy is riding a motorcycle.
"Are you OK?" "Yeah, Dad, I'm fine. But the bike isn't." "Are you sure
you're OK?" "Yeah, I'll be fine." "Do we need to come get you? Are you
sure you're OK?"
My parents know me well enough to know that I would fight through some
minor setbacks if I would have to. As in, "Andy, we know you have a
broken arm and road rash, and we really think that you should postpone
this trip." "Nah, Dad, I'll be fine, really."
That's just how I roll. So my job quickly became convincing my father that I
was indeed OK this time. No harm to me at all. Well, except to my dream.
And that wound ran pretty deep! But when I see something I'm committed
to, I go get it.
And so I told my dad to stay at home. I was going to assess the damage in
the morning. After all, I was on my way to California.
I call 911. They pretty much figure that since no one is hurt, and that I
don't need towed, that they will take care of me later. What is more, I had
the accident at the border of two counties. I hit the deer on one side of the
sign, and I end up parking the bike on the other. So that confused them
any more. I was tossed around from dispatch to office to office for quite
some time. I had to call people back. I had to wait for calls back from
officers. And those calls never came.
And neither did the police. No officer ever came out. They ended up
calling me the next morning and had me file a report via phone. Interesting
way of handling things, I guess.
Well, here's my situation. I am in the middle of nowhere. My bike has no
light. It is absolutely undriveable. I see three houses within walking
distance, and NOTHING beyond them. And one antique mall.
So I go to my bike, and I try to start it again. She starts right up. Like
nothing ever happened. Amazing, I think. So I drive it down the road a bit
to the antique mall. This is going to have to be my motel.
I walk to the house next door. No one home. Across the street...no one
home. But I am soooo hot. I think about breaking in, but I decide against
it. So I walk around the first house until I find a hose. And I drink all the
water I can. I would frequent that house much in the next couple hours.
Then I head back to the scene of the crime. This time with a camera in
hand. And I take pictures of the deer. And of the road. And more of the
deer. She's still dead. Like real dead.
I realize that I've lost several pieces from my motorcycle, so I walk down a
long driveway that I saw a truck pull into. I am pretty sure I scare the man
to death, so I keep my distance, telling the story as trustingly as I could.
He had seen the deer as he was coming to his drive, so my story was
plausible. He lends me a flashlight and even drives me back to the road. I
find a few more pieces of my bike (and the one big piece that I needed),
then head back to my motel.
I also call my sister.
"Hey, I'm not going to make it tonight."
"Why not?"
"Well, I hit a deer."
"Oh, ok."
I'm not sure if she really understood the impact of my statement, but I
shrugged it off. She just took it in stride! "So I'll be there sometime
tomorrow morning. I'm going to go to a bike shop and try to have things
fixed."
Did I mention that I'm goin' to California?
I pop up my tent, and I pull out my sleeping gear. Not what I had planned
on tonight. I camp on the side of the antique mall, out of sight from the
road, but not in the security light in the back. It's still a bit bright from that
light, though. And I try to sleep.
All I can think about is how my grandpa had relatives that were killed
because they camped on the side of the road. And how he ALWAYS told
me never to do the very thing I was doing.
Well, I wasn't goin' to go down easily. So I walked out to the front of the
antique mall and looked around. An old desk, a couple old plows, and
some crazy-lookin' sharp rake thing. That would work.
I took it back with me to the tent. This would have to be my weapon in
case a fight would ensue. Sure, I'd be shot, but at least the other guy
would have a rake in his gut. And a rusty one, at that.
With my rake, I was able to fall asleep.
I woke up the next morning and called my officer. That's when I filled out
the police report. I think I rid myself of the previous night's hose water (the
house had bushes), and I packed everything up.
Sister, here I come.
I roll into town 45 minutes later, and the bike is running great. I looked for
more pieces of my bike before I left, but most of them were broken or
unsalvageable. The deer was still dead. Like real dead. So I took some
more pictures. The artistic spiral was even more beautiful in the daytime.
And what is more, I didn't feel the need to kick her this time.
So I make it to town. And I go to where my sister is at. I end up picking her
up before I go to the motorcycle shops. It would just work better that way.
I needed a phone book, and this way, she would be with me.
So I call up a place. He is backlogged for a couple of weeks. I tell him my
situation, and they think they can work me in. But they don't have the part
I need.
Here is the deal: My headlight housing is gone. The glass shattered on
impact, and it took with it two very useful halogen bulbs. I have absolutely
no headlights. And that is very dangerous when you're on a motorcycle. I
must get it fixed.
Well, I call another place, and they, too, don't have the part. They can
have it shipped in in a couple of days, and the entire time I'm listening to
them, I'm thinking...I should be in California in a couple of days.
I'll try 'em out. So my sis and I drive to this place. Sorry, but we don't have
bulbs for that. "Are you kidding me?" But they point me to a place just
down the road. So I drive there. Now they do have bulbs for that. The
guy tells me it will probably take 45 minutes to install. I can handle that.
So we leave the bike and walk across the road to eat a buffet. I like eating.
And this buffet was decent. The Golden Corral. Not a bad place for food.
And good tea.
We walk back across the street, and we check on the bike. Two brand
new bulbs...goin' to cost me 'bout $30.00. Oh, well, I'm goin' to California.
I should remind you that the headlight housing is not part of this deal.
They have only replaced the bulbs behind the glass housing.
So my sis and I hop on the bike and start heading west. Well, sort of. You
see, you can't really go west from where we're at. I miss a turn, and we go
a bit out of the way, heading up to St. Louis, but we eventually get back on
track. And on the highway that we need.
As we are finishing our first day of driving, we have only made it to the
southwest corner of Missouri. I wanted to go further, but it was raining
pretty hard. We actually stopped at one point, and took cover underneath
an old gas station. And we are at the mercy of the signs, as well. I never
know when a camping place will appear, so by this time of night, I figured I
would take the next one available.
I see a sign with a tent on it, so we take the exit. As we take the frontage
road for the campgrounds, I notice my headlight dim. "You can't be
serious."
Sure enough, after I park the bike, I check it out. A raindrop has crushed
one of the bulbs. It had nothing to protect it, and it has shattered. We are
now down to one bulb.
Not much I could do. So we set up our camp, and we slept. We had miles
to hit tomorrow.
We woke up early (you always wake up early when you sleep in a tent!),
and we hit the road. This time we made it down to New Mexico. We
stopped at one of my much-talked about restaurants, The Big Texan.
They have a 72-ounce steak dinner that you can choose to eat. If you eat
it all, you get it free. When we walked in, there was a man trying the
challenge. They actually put you up on a big table in front of the entire
restaurant with a huge timer behind you! This was a big man, but he was
strugglin'! We watched the last half hour of his eating, but he didn't make
it. I don't think he took more than two bites in the last 13 minutes.
I thought about doing the challenge, but I opted against it. We were
already a day behind, and we had road to cover. The last thing we
needed was to be set back for an hour and a half to two hours. I still
regret that decision! The way I ate that evening was amazing...I'm not
sayin' I could have done it...ok, yes, I am.
Oh, I should tell you another exciting part of the story. Somewhere along
the numerous miles we traveled that day...a bug decided to make a
beeline path for my headlight. Now, hear me out. Bugs are attracted to
lights, I understand that. But I thought that was only during the night!
Well, sure enough, you could see the culprit lodged into the shattered
glass of my only remaining bulb. We were now down to no headlights.
Did I mention I was goin' to California?
I didn't even care anymore. I wasn't taking it to another shop, and I sure
wasn't waitin' around on no headlight housing. We were goin' to California.
I wish I could tell you all about the trip. I really do. How we camped in the
darkest place I've ever been in the middle of the Grand Canyon. How we
climbed down paths and hung out over thousands of feet of nothing but
air...all for a good picture. How we tried to barter with foreign-speaking
Grand Canyon tour guides...all for a helicopter ride. How we went through
the Mojave Desert in 116-degree heat. How we stopped at a rest area
only to find that there were no vending machines OR working water
fountains. How we drank out of the hose that watered the greenest tree in
the middle of the desert. How we asked some neighboring campers if they
had anything to drink...and how that led to over an hour of sharing stories
and sitting and talking with them.
How we made it to Los Angeles and swam in the ocean!!! How the bike
started dying on us in California. How it virtually quit working close to the
Nevada border. How we had to stay at a shady hotel because the bike
was not working right. How that allowed us to eat at the most ridiculous
restaurant I've ever been to...it's like old Rome in the middle of the desert.
How we barely made it to Las Vegas. How we had to drop the bike off at a
repair shop to get fixed.
How we spent two days in Las Vegas! How we watched the fountains if
front of the Bellagio, how we snuck in to a performance show...complete
with some of the strangest and funniest acts...from an old comedian to
Spanish-speaking dancers to a magician. All for FREE!
How we stayed at a hostel where we were the only Americans! And by far
the only people that spoke only one language!
How we ate at a casino just for their incredible buffet. And I do mean
incredible. It was a breakfast buffet, and we went in and gorged ourselves.
All for six bones. And how we acted like we were going to rob the place.
And how we constantly stared at the cameras and then secretly
commented about them. And how disappointed we were to find out that
the roller coaster didn't open 'til 11:00 A.M.
And how we stopped by at a place in the middle of nowhere in Utah. And
how I ate the BEST melon known to man. And how it only cost me 50
cents. And how I bought two and carried them with me on the bike so that I
could eat them later. Grrreeeeeeen Riiiiiivvverrrrrrr....
And how we had to go through a ditch to avoid an 18-wheeler that had
completely blocked the highway by tipping over sideways. And how we
were almost decapitated by a flying 4-foot by 8-foot sheet of plywood.
And how we lead the toughest pack of motorcycles through the most
beautiful country in the mountains of Colorado. We were the lead cruiser
through the wind-iest roads!
And how we had to walk at night to a country club for food because our
headlight didn't work...in the middle of Kansas. Only to find out that they
were no longer serving food! We quickly realized, as well, that everyone
there was aged 80 or over and were in town for the town's school reunion
party...for ALL years. And how we almost pointed to a couple and said
they were our grandparents just so we could eat.
And how we walked back to our motel to call a taxi to take us to a
restaurant. And how that taxi was actually a minivan, and we were some of
this couple's first customers. And how we ate at a Chinese restaurant at
9:30 P.M.
How we drove through Kansas through some rain showers. And how we
took a 15-mile (x2!) detour so that we could visit The Wizard of Oz
Museum. And how I saw Dorothy's ruby slippers. And the crazy monkey
men that still give children (insert adults here) nightmares. And how they
were real! And how I wanted one in my living room! And how I posed with
the King of the Forest.
And how we watched the storms develop, hoping to beat them out. And
how we got caught in one of the strongest storms. And how we had to
park the motorcycle on a sidewalk in front of a hardware store to get out of
the rain. And how we tried to go again, only to be stopped by the same
continuing storm. And how we camped out underneath a strip mall....on
the sidewalk...while the storm passed.
And how we couldn't make it back in time for me to go to work because of
the rain. And how we had to sleep in a motel because it was dark...and I
had no headlight. And how I woke up at 5:00 so that we could make it
back to home by 9:00, but how it was pitch black outside. And how we had
to wait an hour for the sun to rise...because I had no headlight.
And how we almost made it, but had to meet my parents on the road, so
that they could bring me "dress clothes," so that I could make my function
on time. And how I arrived 5 minutes late, with me being the only person to
know what the best previous 10 days were like.
I just wouldn't want to get you involved in all of those stories...because that
might take a long time to read. So just enjoy the pictures instead...
|
The Deer
Me and My Rake
First Campsite in New Mexico
Me in the Grand Canyon!
Can you find me?!!
Can you find me?!!
The Big Texan...King of the Forest...and the Mad Greek Restaurant!
The Roadblock