The Devil in Utah and A Little Luck

I think sitting still is over rated.

I love being busy and since the kids are grown with families of their own I have to find ways to keep busy especially when I live in Michigan alone.  Riding is my favorite way to keep busy.

Riding to Texas for the long Memorial Day Weekend was the longest single ride I had done to date.  One Thousand sixty-one miles in two days. 

I left out of Michigan on the 21st of May with my Vet brother, Tech, we blazed down to Toledo and had to stop to fill up.  He was pulling a trailer behind his bike so he had to stop long before I needed to.  We both had to put on more layers because it was only 60 some degrees and at 75/80 MPH it was getting chilly!

Here I was 2330 miles away from Michigan, in two days I had put on 1250 miles and I was baking in 95 degree + temps.   You have to be dedicated or just short of being committed to ride in weather like this, for distances like I am.

It's Wednesday morning, the 15th of July, and I need to be at my mom's by tomorrow.  I need to be putting highway miles behind me but I am in need of breakfast first.  I am in luck, I find a couple of Rock Springs finest and ask one of them to direct me to a local place to get a good breakfast. He directs me to Grub's Drive In (http://grubsdrivein.com/index.htm).

The place isn't much to look at, there is barely a place to park my bike, and they only had seating at the counter but the sausage with breakfast was some of the best I had ever had.  The day is starting out pretty good and it's only going to get better.

Utah is wondrous place and the terrain becomes a little more hilly as I cross over the mountains East of Ogden.  The freeway is full of wondrous curves and I am full of energy as I lean and glide over the mountains.

There is a sign that touts "The Devils Slide Turnout" just about 8 miles west of Morgan, UT.  The name intrigues me and I slow down to see what on earth a Devil's Slide is.

It's quite a sight to see,  two parallel limestone bands that have been tilted upwards to lie vertical.  A retired professor of geology and geography at Weber State College, figured that the limestone ridges were originally horizontal and were formed by deposits in a shallow sea.  About 75 million years ago, when huge layers of rock were pushed up to form peaks and the ridges were tilted to a vertical position.  The layer of shale that originally separated the limestone ridges eroded over time and it formed the chute.

The weather is still very on again/off again and there are storms dotting the skyline.  Finally in Utah the weather looks like it's going to get ugly and I pull over at a Flying J gas station.  I don't need gas but I need to check the radar to see what's up a head and I am not the only one.  There are two other bikes pulling in in front of me, one pulling a trailer already there gassing up and a fourth pulls in a few seconds behind...all guys of course.

 Being out and about, riding alone, I am not accustomed to riding with people I just meet.  It's a risk that I don't like to take.  The two riding together are father and son from Oregon, the one pulling the trailer is an older gentleman from Vancouver, Washington, and I don't really talk to fourth. 

You just know why we have all pulled in, we are checking the weather up a head.  I show the father and son my radar map, I-84 turns to the north and the storm is still south of the freeway, moving slowly.  We all decide that there is safety in numbers and we gang up to try to out run the rain.  I offer to take the rear, this gives me the opportunity to pull off alone if I feel unsafe.

We ride out the storm with minimal rain finding it's way on to us and pull over shortly after we cross over into Idaho where I get to snap a picture of the storm.  My luck is holding, I haven't had to use my rain gear since Terra Haute on the 10th of July.

To be continued...
 

http://www.ghosttowns.com/states/ut/devil'sslide.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Devil%27s_Slide_(Utah)

 

Dodging Bullets

It's summer, right?  I thought it was!  It's not supposed to rain in the summer, is it???  I get into Wyoming and it seems that all I have been doing is racing the rain storms and there are some nasty ones that need avoiding!  I don't like riding in the rain anymore than the next guy but I have to be in Washington by Thursday so I don't have a lot of room to play with.  I am quickly finding that on rides like this I shouldn't set such a rigid schedule.

Cheyenne is one of my stops and I allow for a leisurely lunch at a surprisingly upper scaled hotel by a Little America truck stop.  I feel a little out of place wearing my leather vest and boots when all around me are 50/60 someones wearing suits, Chanel, and carrying Fendi handbags but carpe diem.

Finishing up and heading to the gas station to fill up the bike, I run into the funniest thing I have seen so far on this trip.  It's a Toyota Yaris with two guys in it, but these are two normal guys, these two look like linebackers for the Chicago Bears.  They are stuffed into this little Yaris.  I think I can hear the little car pleading for help.  I have to hear the story so I ask... They are on their way to Texas from Kenniwick, Washington, (What a coincidence) they are couriers and are going to pick up a gentleman that is blind and his dog to take them back to Washington.  They have a Ford Expedition but the Yaris gets twice the mileage and that puts more money into their pocket.  My one question is, where do people find these jobs?  But my biggest observation is that these guys are smiling and seem to be happy.  They are making the best of the situation and what they have.

Looking at my phone and the weather radar map, I have got to get moving but I take the time to post on my Facebook page, asking my friends what would they do if faced with the impending weather.  Most tell me to stay put, keep safe, but my one brother, who is a serious rider like myself, tells me "Drive fast and take the chance!! Also put on the rain gear when you get close.........never know it may be fun!"  I have to agree with him, the worse case senerio is that I will have to take shelter under an over pass.  So I grab a few snacks, some extra water and I make tracks West.

I make it through several sets of storms with only a few drops and I finally settle down for the night in Rock Springs, Wyoming.  I almost didn't get a room.  The rodeo is in town and almost every hotel is booked.  I logged around 650 miles that day and the next round of hotels is another 15 miles down the freeway, not a lot of miles but still a few more than I want to make.

I don't even eat dinner that night, I just take a hot bath, call my Sweetheart, and go straight to bed.  I am putting on too many miles and not taking enough breaks, I can feel it, my body is telling me that I am pushing too hard.  

Note to self: Schedule your route better next time or you had better be happy and make do with what you end up with!

Living in Wonder

I haven't been to a family reunion in about 5 years and riding to Washington state on my bike has been on my list of things to do for quite a few years.  Originally I thought I would have been taking US 12.  From tip to stern, US 12 starts in downtown Detroit, Michigan and ends in Montesano, Washington, a 10 state, 2650 mile, 50 hour trip and would take you through the Clearwater National Forest and the Bitterroot Mountains in Montana...BEAUTIFUL.  Instead I am starting in the south and going through some areas that can change so quickly it's amazing.

My bike just eats up the road on day two and I am out of New Mexico in only a few hours and crossing into Colorado.

Colorado is an ever changing sight.  Flatlands and cattle country to my right, hills and mountains to my left.  On I-25, I pass by the remains of, what looks to be, an old mission but it is on the other side of the freeway.  I want to stop and find a road up to it but my time is not on that leasurely of a schedule so I move on and opt instead to stop at a scenic overlook. 

I run into, what seems to be, a elderly father and daughter on a trip.  He notices my bike and we talk about the one subject that always seems to come up, my riding alone.  I laugh and explain that I am never alone because Crazy Cow is on every trip I make, I also explain that I have faith that God will get me to where I need to be, when I need to be there.  He seems pretty happy with that answer and he and his daughter walk off.

Back on the road I head into Pueblo, Co, where I stop once again for gas and find myway to Outpost Harley Davidson (http://www.outposthd.com//).  There I meet one of the nicest sales ladies of ANY Harley dealer, Dina.

Dina is about my height and can't weight more than a 100 lbs soaking wet and she rides a little 883 sporty that has been bored out to 1200.  She, like me, loves to ride, she loves to be up on that bike and riding.  Being as tiny as she is, though, she is skeptical that she could ride anything bigger and she was amazed that I was riding the size of bike that I was.  We walked over to the show room floor and I had her get on a Fatboy Low.  We talked about her fear of dropping the bike, not being able to pick it up, and the correct way to pick up a bike.  Ultimately, I don't think she is going to move forward in getting a bigger bike because she is worrid of the "what if's".

I don't have that problem.  I live by the motto, "Never be afraid to try something new, never fear change".

Why do we limit ourselves? Why do we allow fear to dictate our lives?  Why are we consumed with the dread of what could happen, instead of the wonder of what just happened?  Why do we obsess over the anxiety of the unknown instead of being inspired by edification.  Try to imagine where we would be right now if, as toddlers, we failed to take our first steps because we were afraid to fall, afraid to fail.

Stop living in fear and start living in wonder at what you find. 

 

Heading Northwest

I have always been adventurous. I love being on the move, going places, seeing things, meeting new people. It’s kind of difficult to explain but I would love to see it all, to be in a conversation and have someone mention some small remote place and to be able to say, “hey, I have been there,” is a thrill for me. There are so many stories from this trip, I don’t think I will every have time to put them all into words before my next adventure but I have to try...

Leaving Texas for Washington State and my family reunion is a task.

I skirt the Oklahoma/Texas boarder going way north of the Dallas-Ft Worth area through Wichita Falls and into Amarillo. It’s all pretty flat with sprinkles of wind power throughout and I make mental notes of the areas I’d like to go back to for some adventuring.

Riding along US Route 82, I stop for lunch in the little town of Muenster. The town interests me because of the strong German influence and I love good German food. I locate the local market, (http://www.fischersmeatmarket.com//) buy some meat and cheese, find a shady spot by my bike, sit and call my Sweetheart. We chit chat about the day so far and talk about where I am going to stay the night. I have my “Bessie” in my saddlebag and I was originally going to find a camp ground or rest area and cinch up my hammock, but there is something in his voice that tells me that he is going to worry extensively if I attempt to go this route. I don’t want to overstress him so to alleviate his worries I promise him that I will check into a hotel.

I don’t always understand people’s worries about my riding alone. I haven’t run into a problem yet that I couldn’t figure out myself or with a little help from just a phone call. My philosophy is that I trust that God has His eyes on me and all will be as it should be.

Texas begins to feel never-ending after 8 hours and the heat takes a toll on me. Ultimately, it takes me 12 hours and 605 miles to get out of Texas and into New Mexico. I check into the Super 8 in Clayton, New Mexico an hour after dark. There is a storm riding the Capulin mountains in front of me and I don’t want to ride in the dark AND the rain. I have been there, done that and have gotten the t-shirt. It wasn’t fun and it was actually one of the only times that I have been genuinely scared while on my bike. I know that storms are going to be abundant on this trip, mostly due to the high temps.

The temps all day hovered ever so close to the 100 degree mark and then you add on the heat generated by the bike and you can begin to feel baked. I guess some may consider me a little nuts but when you are doing something you enjoy and love, you don’t tend to look at the negative.

 

Wet Socks

The adventure begins well.  I finish work up and head out.  It is a little cool and I have to wear my sweatshirt but that's ok because I am on my way.  Three weeks off.  I have not taken this much time off since the kids were in elementary school and I dang sure haven't had this much time off to myself ever.  don't make it as far as I hope that first night due to a request from one of my friends living in Texas.  She wants to make Pancit for me and cannot find the noodles down in Bowie County and I have to pick up Harley Shirts for my Sweetheart and another friend. 

    I make do with getting into Terra Haute, IN and getting a little hotel.  The next day I wake up to a miserable wet day.  I am happy that I took up the extra space and packed my bike cover and even more so that I put the thing overr my bike the night before.  I get on my rain gear after breakfast and head out.  It's only a light sprinkle, I ride through parts where it's not raining at all and I am hopeful that the rain is only temporary.  My hopes are dashed in Effingham, IL when the clouds open up and proceed to drench me to the point where I cannot see 15 feet in front of me.  For safety reasons, I have to pull off.  I find a larger gas station and park my bike by one of the pumps and under cover.  I get a cup of coffee, play a couple games of Sudoku, talk to a few people that notice the bike and I go into the bathroom to dry my socks off. 

    I manage to get wait out most of the rain and make it out an hour and a half later.  I am behind schedule and I have a lot of time to make up.  I only stop for gas and to call and update my Sweetheart.  I have one planned stop to make that will take more than 10 or 15 minutes and that is in Little Rock.  That's where I make the realization.  

   I had been riding so hard and fast, not really stopping to take my time because I want to get down to Texas so badly that I didn't realize how wet my feet still were.  I changed out of my wet socks and felt so refreshed it was like I had just awakened from the perfect nap.  

   I realized that life can sometimes get like that.  You get used to things one way.  It may not be the best way, the right way, but it's just THE way things are until you change "your socks" and suddenly you realize how much better you feel.  How much better life feels with just that one little change you have made.  

   Think about your life.  What little thing could you change that would make it so much better?

Iron Butt Tour 2015

   It's July, at least that is what the calendar says but at 65 degrees at 1:30 in the afternoon in Michigan makes one wonder where summer is?  Meanwhile, in Texas, it's 86.  Time for a trip.
   This isn't going to be a weekend or even a week trip.  This is going to be a big one.  This is going to be three weeks of vacation to travel through 21 states and 7000 miles.  This is going to be EPIC and I am pretty excited to have the opportunity to have this adventure.
   The first stop...where else, TEXAS!
   My best friend and sweetheart is there and waiting to throw me a birthday party.  This isn't a milestone birthday but it's going to be the first one in 35 years that I didn't plan myself.  Then I am off to the Pacific Northwest for our annual family reunion that I haven't been to in 5 or 6 years.
   Keep tuned for more...

Places to go, People to see

Memorial Day weekend and I requested four days off, including half of a day the Thursday before, to make an eleven day mini vacation and I have got places to go and people to see.  I make arrangements with one of my Veteran brother’s heading south to join him for a few hours, we hash out the little details and, besides the end destination, I have no real path planned out.  The week of the trip is here and Monday morning I wake up, debate with the weather as to its cooperation that day and if I should ride.  Open toed shoes win out and I decide to drive to work instead.

Walking out of my apartment I startle a bird in a bush next to the stairs by my apartment but this is no ordinary bird, it is a sky blue parakeet.  Someone has lost their pet.  I make an attempt to catch it so that I can find its owner after work but he isn’t very willing to allow me to assist him and is soon flying off to be free.  I thought to myself, this is going to be an interesting day and I was right.

I get into my truck which faces my carport where I park my bike and I just look.  Something isn’t right.  Where’s my bike.  I get out of my truck and just stare.  My first thought is, “You silly woman, where did you park her?”  Did one of my brothers decide to pull a prank on me?  No, they couldn’t, I locked the fork up, the most they could do was to push it in a circle.  

Stolen.  She was stolen.

I call 911 and suddenly I am in full panic attack mode.  I manage to let the 911 operator know that my 2013 Harley Davidson Streetglide motorcycle was stolen but I am having difficulty with getting her more information.  I just cannot think.  I cannot process what is happening.  This poor woman on the other end offers to send an ambulance to my location but I decline, I can control this, I have to.  I hear someone talking to her and she asks me, “was your bike yellow?”  OMG!  YES!  “Is she in one piece?”  “Yes, Ma’am, we have recovered her.”

The whole day at work, everyone is talking about it.  I Facebook what’s happened and people are shocked and happy that she was recovered so quickly.  I finally get a call from the special investigator assigned to my case and I just need to know a few things.  Is she ride able?  He is unsure but he thinks she is in good shape.  Is the cow still with her?  He is now confused.  I explain the significance of Crazy Cow and he says that he will look for the cow and send pictures as soon as he can.  A few hours later, I have pictures of my baby in the back of a U-Haul truck and the cow is still strapped on.

My Vet brother, Skip, takes me to get her during my lunch on Tuesday.  She just needs a new main fuse and the side cover is missing but other than that, she is in good shape.  She is in good hands again and yet she feels off, almost like this inanimate object knows that she has been violated.  I know how that sounds but I also know how it felt to be on her after she was stolen.

I am a basket of nerves by the time I ride her back to work and I even lock her up, which is funny because there is more security at my job than at the airport.  On my way home I stop at Menards for 10 feet of the thickest chain and a lock but I put the chain back when I find a padlock with an alarm on it and this sucker is LOUD!  I just have two nights to manage to live through before I am off on my vacation.  I will feel safer knowing that I will be away from these people that want to take my bike.

I sleep with my window locked open ajar, my weapon ready, the bike with her new accessory attached and my prayers ascending to heaven that she will be there when I wake up.

What a way to start the 2015 riding season.

To Hell and Back, Not Such a Bad Trip

Sunday the 26th of April was the Blessing of the Bikes in Macomb County Michigan and symbolizes the official start of the bike riding season.  To show our support, my Veterans association is always heavily involved.  This year there was almost 3000 bikes at the event.  I enjoy going mostly because I get to see some of our riders that don’t normally come around because they live quite a distance away, but this is the event that our Veterans club riders make a serious effort to come out to.  It is, actually, one of the only events where you will see so many different vests from so many different clubs.  Some reputable, some not so much but they all get along.  In the three years I have been going, I cannot recall one incident.

It is official now, it is Bike Season in Michigan.

In Texas, it has been Bike Season for a couple months now, in fact, I now have a bike down there that I can use when I do go down.  Although I have been down there to enjoy it several times, it’s just not enough for me and when I would come back North I missed riding.  So far this year, I have been down to Texas six times.  I am actually actively looking for a job that will transfer me down there permanently but until then I just have to be content with a weekend or a week here and there.

This weekend was the first one of the year that I was able to really get out and ride up in Michigan.  On Friday I made one of my favorite local rides, I rode to Hell, Michigan.

Hell is a fairly popular biker destination with wonderful winding roads and beautiful views.  The town has an Ice Cream Shop, a Tavern, a small shop, and a putt-putt golf.  The whole towns theme is circled around Halloween and they make quite a business out of it but Hell has a special meaning for me for other reasons.  Hell was the first trip on my own outside of my comfort zone after my husband had moved out.

Most all of my riding prior to that had been with a group or with just him and me.  I never really had to know how to get from point A to point B because I never led, I always followed so I didn’t bother to pay attention to what rode we were on, what direction we were going, or any other pertinent information.  So riding alone felt strange and I wasn’t really comfortable doing it.   Don’t misunderstand me, I can read a map and I can find my way around but there were some areas in the local area that I was extremely unfamiliar with and Hell was one of those areas.  

I remember that day pretty well and my feelings of determination, deciding that I was going to make the trip alone.  I wasn’t going to wait for someone to go with me if I wanted to go, why wait.  I think it was the start of finding me and who I was without someone next to me constantly to guide me or to decide for me.  

Hell laid the frame work for my first real Adventuring later that summer, when I went up and around the upper peninsula of Michigan, into Wisconsin, and around to Illinois, Indiana and back to Michigan.  It was a 1500 mile, four day trip, and I did it on my own.  On that trip I did a couple of things I had wanted to do for years; I went to the Harley Davidson Museum in Milwaukee, Copper Harbor, MI, the most northern point in Michigan, I visited some very good friends in Osh Kosh, and I began to enjoy being alone.  I found, on that trip that I got to stop when I wanted, for how long, and where I wanted.  It was a lonely trip and I remember wishing to have someone riding next to me to enjoy it with me but I was determined not to sit around and wait for that someone.  Just maybe I’d find that someone while I was out on my own.

Learning to be alone is an art, I feel.  It’s being able to know your limits and being able to step outside your comfort zone a little when needed.  Trusting that what you want may not be what God has planned for you.  To acknowledge and understand that wanting someone is so much more different than needing someone.  It takes time too.  It took me almost two years after the separation to learn to be more than just ok with being alone as much as I am and there are days when I am more ok than others.

When God closes a door he often opens a window.

     As the snow sets down in Michigan and makes Detroit seem new and clean, I count the days to when I can get back up and ride.

     My last ride of the season was Toy's for Tot's, December 14th and I didn’t even get to ride my own, I rode on the back of my best friend’s bike and allowed his brother-in-law to ride mine. To some that may seem a little strange, some may say that no one rides their bike but them. I don’t see it like that; I don’t mind sharing like that when it comes to making someone else’s day. 

     If I am honest about it, I really didn't mind.  The night before I was forced to go to a farewell party for myself, where I had one big problem.  I couldn't seem to find the end of the drinks that SOME PEOPLE, ....we won't mention names here....THEY know who they are .... kept buying and putting in front of me.  Needless to say, I was pretty tore up, from the floor up. 

     I spent the night at my best friends house.  Settling in to the recliners to sleep in the living room, we chatted and laughed until around 2 in the morning and yet I didn't regret it, even when we had to get up the un-Godly hour of 6 am.

     Laughter and friendship like that is rare and I would gladly give up precious sleep just to spend a few hours with good conversation and great laughs.

     It’s often said that if you want to find someone, stop looking. I am here to tell you that in not looking for someone, I found even more. I found a best friend when I wasn’t looking. He and his family allowed me access into their hearts and home. They allowed someone that was almost a complete stranger to spend a few hours away from my small one bedroom hotel room where the stark white walls would sometimes feel as if they were staring back at me. I was allowed to feel useful. I was allowed to feel needed. I was allowed to feel the love of a family other than my own. I chose a road that wasn’t on my map and I never expected to find the ride of a life time. I hope the view is always this beautiful.
     The Toy's for Tot's ride was pretty awesome, about 800 bikes riding all around Texarkana, clogging up the streets, causing traffic jams, having permission to run red lights and I didn’t have to stop to take pictures, I got to take all the pictures I wanted AND even some video.
      The bike was loaded onto the trailer a few days later with care just before Christmas. I said my good-byes, cried my tears, and resolved that this would not be the end of my southern adventure. I may not make my permanent home that far south but I am not finished trying to get out of the north and back to the other side of the Mason-Dixon Line.  

     Even though I am so far away from the warm weather where I can ride, I find solace in the fact that I have so many friends and extended family that I can count on and that I love with all my heart. I know I could jump on my bike and show up at their doorstep looking for shelter; doors and arms would be flung open, inviting me in.

Thankful

     The weekend is here again and originally I was going to stick close to “home” and ride around with a buddy of mine but he informed me on Thursday that he had things to do around town so he wouldn’t be able to go but we were still going to meet for Friday morning breakfast.

     On Friday morning I wake up to early, as usual, and quickly decide that even if he can’t go it isn’t going to stop me from a little Adventuring, so I pack a bag up and throw it on the back of my bike with Crazy Cow in tow.

     It is great breakfast, the four of us indulge in some lively conversation and as usual it is chalked full buddy talk.  I call it buddy talk because it is three guys and one female and there is "no holds barred".  My guy friends know that I can be trusted with whatever is said.  I am not a girlie girl and I do not get offended easily, so the jokes can get pretty crude.  I have been known to become embarrased and blush on occasion but I take the ribbing and I can ususally turn it back on them.  Since I work mostly with guys, I find it important that they don't see me as an outsider, as a female, as a weaker person.

     Breakfast being over, I listen to them all tell me to be careful as I get ready to head out on the bike alone. I check the radar on my smart phone, which is still smarter than me because I am still finding things amazing that it does that I didn’t KNOW it did.   Come on, admit it, you didn’t read the 200 page instruction book either.  

      I originally planned on going north towards Eureka Springs but the weather looks to be a bit chilly so south is the direction I choose.

      I cruise until I need gas and find myself in Natchitoches, LA.  The sign pointing towards town says Historic Downtown.  Hmmmm, just HOW historic, it is, I find out, it is the OLDEST city in Louisiana at 300 years old.  Downtown is beautiful with a hint of New Orleans only condensed with brick paved streets, on the banks of the Cane River Lake, and plenty of little shops.  The kicker to stopping in this little town by chance it that it is the site of the movie Steel Magnolias.
     This movie spoke to me so much that I named my daughter Shelby in honor of it.  The strength of these women, the fortitude, the courage to face life and death as one, it is a tribute to our resilience.  We may be lead, too often in my opinion, by the men in our lives but in actuality we are the backbone and the might of the family.

     After an hour or so of just walking around and site seeing, I find something for lunch and then carry on down the road.

     In a few hours I am in Lafayette in what is their version of rush hour traffic when suddenly, to my horror, I feel the backpack slip off my backrest and on to the main road.  Out of the corner of my eye I can see a white blur, Crazy Cow, tumbling.  Dear God, I have killed the Cow!  Traffic slows and I am able to pull over just in time to see some gentleman in a Ford Excursion getting back into his vehicle with my bag.  I have lived too long in the Detroit area because my first thought was, this guys going to steal my stuff!  But he doesn’t, he slows down as I am walking next to the road and hands me my bag and Crazy Cow.  I have just enough time to thank him and let him know much that stupid cow means to me before he drives off.  All that stuff in my back pack could have been replaced for only a couple hundred bucks but Crazy Cow has been with me for 10 years or more.  He is irreplaceable and yet he really isn't.  I am just very sentimental about this stupid cow.
     Crazy Cow was given to my son when he was in junior high.  Just a few short years later he is off to the finishing school, then in the Marine Corps, and getting deployed to Iraq.  I missed him something awful and my daughter and I would substitute his presence with the cow.  We would take pictures of him with us on our many aventures and I would make a power point presentation to send to him wherever he was.  This way he was with us, if only in spirit. 

     Too many times in our life we see people crying over stuff, having lost everything, when they have the one thing that is irreplaceable, one another.  I try so hard to see all that I have that cannot be replaced, my children, my grandbabies, the love of my family and friends.  I could lose every material thing I posses, be living out of a box and still thank God for the people he has put in my life.

     It’s getting late but before I make my way to the camp ground that I have chosen for the night I need to find something to eat.  When choosing an eating establishment I stay away from the chain restaurants and try to find something with local flair.  I settle on Don’s Seafood & Steak House. 
     Sitting at the bar, I already know, I am going to try their Crawfish Bisque.  Crawfish are not in season but I LOVE crawfish and will try almost any recipe with them as a main ingredient.   It is not long before a couple sits down close to me and we strike up a lively conversation about bikes, people, life, and adventuring.  I tell them a little about my adventuring and I tell them that I am going to be camping for the night at a local camp ground.  The gentleman, whom I fail to get a name from, tells his wife how concerned he is that I am on my own.  What a treasure to have total strangers, concerned for my safety.

     Isn’t this what it is all about, to become intertwined, and to care for one another?  Being a single female out on my own, I do get a lot of that.  So many times when I pull into an establishment with my out of state plates alone, people ask me out right, aren’t you scared?  Why should I be?  I am always His tool and I relish each day he gives me.

     I know, and I hope my family and loved ones know, that if something ever were to happen to me on my bike, at least I went doing the one thing that has made me the happiest I have been in many years.