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.