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I should probably admit something right off the bat. I’ve never read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I’ve tried. Twice. Both times, I found myself quickly bored and distracted, and the book ended up back on the shelf. I looked for it a few weeks back and I can’t even find it anymore. I’ve likely given it away with the hundreds of other books that I’ve boxed up and taken down to the used book store.

I’m also not a big fan of the whole Zen thing. True, I haven’t spent much time exploring it, and some of the philosophies I’ve read seem to be very biblical ideas, but for the most part, I think Zen is, well, overrated.

With those admissions, you might find it strange for me to be sitting down to write a review of Mark Richardson’s book Zen and Now: On the Trail of Robert Pirsig and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Fair enough, but as I dived into this book, I discovered that this book offers so much more than just an examination of Zen or Pirsig’s book.

The first time I picked up Zen and Now was two week’s before my Road Trip. I was looking for a couple of “motorcycle books” to take along with me. Since Richardson’s book had a motorcycle on the cover, it peaked my interest. I read the back cover and decided it wasn’t my kind of book. So, I put it back on the shelf. I now regret doing that.

A few days after I arrived home from my trip, I was over at a Starbucks that is connected to a Chapters book store. I needed something to read, and so I wandered back to the motorcycle section. Once again, the bike on the cover caught my attention. This time, I found a chair and decided to read a few pages to decide if it was worth buying.

Richardson had me hooked with the first two paragraphs.

I can tell from the sign by the bank, without turning my head from the road, that it’s nine thirty in the morning. The sign flashes to show it’s 80 degrees, and the heat’s already coming through my jacket. It’s going to be hot today. That’s okay – on a motorcycle, heat is always welcome.

The small town passes, and I’m back among the fields. The bike’s running well this morning, and both of us are stretching out a little, starting to relax on the road now that this trip’s finally under way. You’ll have to excuse me if I think of her sometimes as if she’s a person. It’s just me now, me and my old bike.

Immediately my mind rushed back to the first few days of my own road trip. I remembered the feeling so clearly. Just me and my old bike. I was hooked. Over the next 275 pages, I would have many flashbacks. Many moments when I felt like Richardson was telling my tale. He got it. I didn’t know the man, and yet felt like there was a connection between us. Coincidentally, Richardson’s road trip took place just before his 42nd birthday. My own trip ended one week before my 42nd birthday. Yes, there was a connection. I only wished I could describe things they way he managed to picture them. And yet, perhaps I did, in my own way.

This is a book about a man who decides to retrace the route detailed in Pirsig’s Zen and the Art. And yet, it’s much more than that. It’s also about a man discovering some things about himself. Sharing his own experiences. Discovering his own way.

I pause as I write that last line. If you read the book too casually, you wont see Richardson discovering his own way. Instead, you’ll just see another Zenite trying to duplicate the journey of someone else. In fact, for the first half of the book, it frustrated me. Richardson, and many others before him, map out every stop that Pirsig and his riding companions made. Every known meal stop, hotel or campsite, even pee break was entered into a GPS system. And yet, I kept wondering if the guy they were trying to follow, Robert Pirsig, would ever do that? Would he ever follow the route of someone else? Richardson does an excellent job bringing Pirsig to life, and from what I can tell, the answer is no, he wouldn’t. Pirsig would likely tell all these people following his route to blaze their own trail. Ironic, I guess.

The book actually has three paths. First, Richardson takes you along with his own ride. Without a doubt, this is the part I enjoyed the most. As I already explained, I felt connected to him because of my own road trip. He even goes through the same emotions as I did – the loneliness, the thrill of unknown curves, the rush of running on reserve.

Along with his own ride, Richardson shares the story of Pirsig’s travels. He doesn’t simply quote from sections of Zen and the Art, but rather shares “insider” information, from people he meets along the journey. He spends time with the people that Pirsig talks about in the original book. As he travels a particular road, he shares what happened with the original “Zen Riders.”

Finally, Richardson also shares the story of what happened between the time of the original trip and his own. As someone who loves to study people, I found this incredibly insightful. You discover what shaped Pirsig before his trip, and how the success of the book affected the rest of his life. It’s an incredible story.

Zen and Now is a great book. In fact, it has quickly become one of my favourite motorcycle books. Is it perfect? Of course not. I wish Richardson would have continued the story and told of his own trip home. One where he plotted his own path. No longer bound by the route laid out by Pirsig. I would have loved to know more about his journey home.

Over all, I highly recommend this book. As I wrote about my own journey, many of you commented that you found yourself caught up with the ride. You felt like you were tagging along with me. Trust me, you’ll feel the same as you read Zen and Now.

One last thing. Reading this book did not cause me to rush out and grab another copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Actually, quite the opposite. I have less desire to read the original now. Why? I enjoyed Richardson’s account so much that I can’t help but think that the original would almost ruin things for me.

If you want to pick up a copy of Zen and Now, you can find it at Amazon or at Chapters. Also, Richardson has a website dedicated to Zen and Now, but I would suggest waiting until after you read the book to visit his website. Or at least don’t look at the pictures. I had every character in the book visualized a certain way, and once I saw the pictures, that changed. I’m glad I didn’t look until after I was done reading the book.

Pick up Zen and Now, you’ll be glad you did.

Well, this is my first “non-ride” blog, although what I’m going to share stems from lessons I learned while on my journey. I do appreciate all those who stayed on top of the blog during the trip and offered comments to the posts. It felt like many of you were riding along with me.

I hope you stick around. I will continue to use this blog to share the many experiences of my personal journey. Some posts will be focuses strictly on riding. Others will be deeply spiritual in nature. Many will be a combination of the two. I’ll even throw in the occasional geek post for the Mac-Addict in me.

I’ve often said that bikers are some of the most spiritual people I know. After all, as you ride along an open highway, enjoying all the beauty of nature around you, it’s difficult to not feel a connection to God. At least that’s been my experience.

Since I’ve come home from my trip, I have begun teaching a leadership course one night a week. I also attended a gathering of National leaders for the Ride For Dad – an organization which raises money for prostrate cancer research. This year, their combined efforts brought in $1.6 Million dollars. Impressive. Last night, they invited me to attend a dinner, say a few words, and pray a blessing. It was an honour to be with them.

Then, this morning, I gathered with approximately 60 men for breakfast. I was asked to speak to them, and decided to share the following talk about being still. The notes are a little rough, and as I usually do when I speak, I strayed off the page quite a bit, but you’ll get the gist of the talk. I hope you enjoy.

Be Still

I’ve just come home from a 25 day, 13000 km road trip across the U.S. I left Ottawa on Sept. 15, and travelled Southwest to San Diego, CA. From there, I rode North to San Francisco, and then started Southeast through Yosemite National Park, Death Valley, Vegas, into Arizona, through Roswell, New Mexico, then straight East until it was time to turn left and head North back to Ottawa. It was an incredible trip, and I experienced things like the Rockies, the sunset at the Grand Canyon, afternoon heat in the Mojave Desert, fog on the Pacific Coast Highway, isolation in Death Valley, standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona, being abducted by aliens in Roswell, New Mexico, just to name a few!

It was a short time before I arrived in Roswell, that I went through the town of Lincoln, New Mexico. The most famous resident of the town was a man born Henry McCarty. Now, most of you likely don’t know that name. However, you might know the name he usually went by, William H. Bonney. If not, you certainly know one of his other alias: Billy the Kid.

The facts about Billy the Kid’s life are somewhat less exciting than the legend he became after Sheriff Pat Garrett wrote the book The Authentic Life of Billy, the Kid, but that didn’t stop me from drifting back 120 years in my mind to when Billy the Kid roamed the country side that I was now riding through.

I imagined Billy and his gang of Regulators looking down from one of the cliffs I was now riding past. My motorcycle became a steel horse, and I was suddenly a cowboy.

Of course, that all changed when I arrived upon the next city, Roswell, New Mexico, which is famous for a different reason!

Let’s face it, most of us, if not now, then at some point in our lives, dreamed about being a cowboy. We all played the game, and imagined life on the range, sitting around a campfire with our gang, chewing on straw, talking about robbing banks and trains.

But then life gets in the way. The busyness, the demands, the responsibilities all take us away from a simpler time.

A number of times on this road trip a certain verse from the Bible popped into my head. Often, it would be there as I enjoyed a solitary portion of road. It was there as I went through the Mojave Desert. It was there as I stood overlooking a portion of Yosemite Park that had been burned during a “Prescribed Fire” – acres of nothing but black, burnt trees. It was there when I climbed off my bike in Death Valley and looked around at miles and miles of nothing but rock and sun.

The verse that kept popping into my head?
Be still and know that I am God.

Be still. Know God.

One night I pulled out my Bible to look up that verse. I wanted to see it’s context. Was there something specific that we were to be still from?

The passage is taken from Psalm 46. This is the entire chapter:

God is our refuge and strength,
always ready to help in times of trouble.
² So we will not fear when earthquakes come
and the mountains crumble into the sea.
³ Let the oceans roar and foam.
Let the mountains tremble as the waters surge!
⁴ A river brings joy to the city of our God,
the sacred home of the Most High.
⁵ God dwells in that city; it cannot be destroyed.
From the very break of day, God will protect it.
⁶ The nations are in chaos,
and their kingdoms crumble!
God’s voice thunders,
and the earth melts!
⁷ The Lord of Heaven’s Armies is here among us;
the God of Israel is our fortress.

⁸ Come, see the glorious works of the Lord:
See how he brings destruction upon the world.
⁹ He causes wars to end throughout the earth.
He breaks the bow and snaps the spear;
he burns the shields with fire.

¹⁰ “Be still, and know that I am God!
I will be honored by every nation.
I will be honored throughout the world.”

¹¹ The Lord of Heaven’s Armies is here among us;
the God of Israel is our fortress.

To be honest, at first I was a little disappointed at the context. I had been hoping for something more … relevant. Perhaps an incredible description of nature, or God’s awesomeness, and then, Be still and know that I am God!

But then it hit me. This chapter is talking about life. It’s really speaking about the chaos that often happens all around us. When we look around at our world, we find crisis after crisis.
When we zero in closer to home, we also often find lives that seem to be in constant crisis mode. Some of you know what I’m talking about here. It seems like we are always going, always doing, always working. It never stops. We never stop.

I never stop.

So much came out of this road trip that I plan on sharing with my church when I am back. God spoke to me about many things that need to happen within the structure of Bikers’ Church.

But at the top of the list was something that God challenged me about … me.

I need to learn how to be still. And know God.

Here’s what I’ve learned: no one will do it for you.

Men, at some point, we need to strip off something so that we can find the time and place to be still.

You see, God wants you to know him. It is in knowing God that everything else we do falls into the right place. We get perspective on our family, our work, our play. Everything.

But it begins with knowing God.

But I don’t have time to be still. Find time. You found time to be here this morning, find time to be still.

Over those 25 days, I was constantly amazed at the awesomeness of God. It is impossible to not be blown away with God when you see some of the things I saw on this trip.

But, the most incredible moments of discovering God didn’t come as I watched the sun set over the Grand Canyon. Those moments came as I was being still. When I stopped everything else. And I just took time to know him.

It’s time to be still.

One of the best written posts on why a person rides a motorcycle. Read it here.

In a previous post, I shared the story of meeting Paul, author of www.themotoworld.com and a serious podcaster.

The night I spent at Paul’s, he recorded a podcast with me. You can listen to that podcast here. The interview with me begins around 17 minutes in.

I encourage you to subscribe to his podcast so that you can listen to some great interviews with far greater motorcyclist than I.

Hope you enjoy the audio.

Well, it’s been a few days now since I arrived back home. Over the course of my trip, I thought of so many simple things that I wanted to pass on to those of you who have been following this journey with me. Of course, now that I’m home, I forget half of them! So, this might be part one of a number of post-ride submissions.

I must say that the trip was amazing. So many commented on how envious they were about this trip. Many bikers dream of taking a lengthy road trip, and yet few actually do it. There are a number of reasons why many don’t ever take the time, but if we are really honest, they are often just excuses. It is possible for most bikers to do something close to what I did. Maybe not twenty five days, or even three weeks. But most could jump on their bike for a couple of weeks and explore at least part of the country. It may take a few years to plan. But I can’t encourage it enough. If you can make it happen, then do it. Plan for it. Work it into your long term schedule. And do it. It is something you’ll never regret.

I learned a lot on this trip. At the top of the list was what I learned about America. I’ve mentioned often that I am a proud Canadian, and prior to this trip, America was, well, just there. I’ve never had the “hate on” for Americans like some people do, but I wasn’t one to fall all over the U.S. either. Canadians are often seen as the “forgotten cousin” to the States. Even though our countries are closer allies than any other countries, we seem to just get lost in the shuffle. For some Canadians, this is a sore point. For me, it’s no big deal. I don’t mean this in an offensive way, and those of you who met me during this road trip will take this for what it is, but Americans (and I’m generalizing here) really don’t understand much beyond their borders.

Again, it’s not meant to be offensive, it’s just reality. Canadians, it seems, are more like Europeans in that they take an interest in what is happening in the rest of the world. Perhaps it’s out of necessity. We’re a pretty small country (population wise), and we depend on other countries for our sense of well being. Americans don’t have that need. They are a fairly independent bunch. Their actions affect the rest of us, not the other way around.

Having said all that, some of the bikers I met on this trip had a very decent understanding of issues that affect not just Americans, but the rest of the world. I loved the discussion I had with some people over a late night meal on Freemont Street in Vegas (you know who you are). I was impressed with the intelligence and depth of the discussion that took place regarding a number of issues.

I fell in love with much of America on this trip. While there are still different countries that I would love to visit at some point in life, I could see myself taking in some of the more incredible American places again. I have to go back and spend more time at the Grand Canyon. I would love to rediscover Death Valley with family and friends. I want to do the Pacific Coast highway again, hopefully with a little less fog. One of the comments I made often to those I visited with was how incredibly diverse is the American landscape. To ride mountain ranges and flat valleys in the same day was amazing. I had more than a few people respond by telling me how long it had been since they had enjoyed those very roads, even though they were doable in a weekend trip. Folks, get out and enjoy the incredible scenery God has blessed you with.

American people are, for the most part, incredibly friendly. Everywhere I went, I found myself engaging in conversations with strangers. I would check in at a hotel and spend fifteen minutes chatting with the staff. Gas station attendants, waiters, and customers standing in line were all quite willing to engage is quick, polite conversations. I wondered if my appearance would cause some to keep their distance, but I didn’t sense that at any time (well, other than the hotel dude in the Rockies! LOL). This might sound funny to some, but I really like Americans a lot more now than before.

So, what about the ride itself? Let me offer some simple tips and ideas for those who might plan a trip like this one.

• Ride your own ride. I mentioned this in one of the first posts, so I wont go into much detail here. But, know your style, your bike, etc. and do it your way. Don’t change things just because you’re going on a longer ride. I am so glad I didn’t add the windshield, etc. to my bike like I had planned. I was as comfortable on the first day of my journey as I was the last day, because I knew my ride.
• Load up your bike. Then get rid of half the stuff you are thinking of taking. I read this in another blog and wished I had listened more closely. I thought I was packing lightly. I packed for a week. A week’s worth of underwear, socks, t-shirts. An extra pair of jeans, two long sleeve shirts, a sweatshirt. Too much. Way too much. Yes, I needed that much underwear and socks, but I ended up picking up a few t-shirts. In fact, half way through the trip, I mailed home most of the shirts and one of the long sleeves. I just didn’t need the stuff, and it was taking up room on the bike. Yes, you need the essentials. You need a rain suit (even if I didn’t really use it). But you can always buy an extra sweatshirt at WalMart or Target if you get cold.
• If you are camping, plan ahead. When I started out, my thought was to camp almost every night. I figured I’d hotel it only two or three days and camp the rest. I ended up hoteling it every night but a few. In fact, while in Vegas, I mailed home my camping gear just to take all the useless weight off my bike. Why didn’t I camp? For one, because of the time of year I did my trip, it often got chilly in the evening. After riding all day, I didn’t want to sleep outside. At the same time, I had difficulty finding campsites. It’s amazing how many campsites are for RVs only. Finally, I was surprised at the cost of campsites. The cost to pitch a tent was almost always within $5 of the cost of a local Motel 6. For $5, what would you do? Sleep outside on the ground, or enjoy a hot shower and a bed? If you are going to camp, I would suggest spending a little extra time mapping out your route and finding campsites before you leave.
• Decide what you want to accomplish. Look, there were a lot of things I didn’t see on this trip. I skipped L.A. completely. I rushed through the mid-west, pushing through the flatlands until I hit Colorado. I rode the interstate right beside the Blue Ridge Mountains, skipping Deal’s Gap. I had decided before I left that the best riding would be on the West Coast (because of the time of year I was doing this trip). So, I pushed it hard until I got there. And then, I slowed down, took my time, and enjoyed the West.
• Don’t feel the need to prove anything. Maybe this one is just for me. I’m riding a 94 Wide Glide with 200,000 kms, no windshield, doing a trip that will end up being 13,000 kms long. And yet, when I put my full face helmet on, I had to fight the insecurity of wondering what a “hard core” biker would think. How stupid is that? There were days when I just felt like wearing the full face. My eyes appreciated those days. My burnt lip thanked me. My peeling nose enjoyed the break. In fact, there were a few times when I was riding through a state with no helmet law that I found myself putting on the full face along with my headphones so that I could enjoy a few hours of music. This is probably true whether you are riding across the Nation or across the city, but if you are riding your bike in order to prove something to someone else, then you should park it and take your car.

I had about fifty more things to put on that list, but I need my friend Michael’s photographic memory to pull them out again.

Let me conclude this post by sharing a little of what I learned about myself during this trip.

Before I left on this trip, I told Heather that I wanted to prove something to myself. That I could do it. That I could handle whatever happened on the trip. I wanted to overcome insecurities, doubt, fear. I think I accomplished that. Those who know me here in Ottawa will tell you that I’m not the best at navigation. I’m not sure I’m any better at figuring out directions after the trip, but I’m a lot more confident in trying. I’m more willing to explore new areas just because I can.

The funny thing is, I didn’t have any great revelation while on this trip. I realized that I am the person I thought I was before the trip. I didn’t come home a totally changed person. For the most part, I think I’m the same guy who headed out on this trip about a month ago.

Anyway, I do feel like I’m rambling a bit. This post didn’t go in the direction I planned for it when I sat down and started writing. But, what are you going to do? Sue me?

Over the next few days I’m going to go through my pictures and put together a bit of a slide show which I will post here for those of you who might want to see some of the places I travelled through. And, I plan on continuing to update my blog, focusing on motorcycle related stuff as well as ministry related things. I also plan on writing a e-book on here over the next while that might be of interest to some of you. So, hopefully now that you’ve found this site, you’ll check back often. Or, better yet, subscribe so that you don’t miss any of the posts.

Again, thanks for joining me on this journey.

I wasn’t sure if I should call today’s entry “Day Twenty Six” since technically, I wasn’t on the bike at all today. I did drive about 500 miles, but it was in the truck. Still, it was part of the trip across America, so here we go.

Heather arrived around 7pm on Friday evening. It was great seeing her, and we enjoyed hanging out and chatting about the trip. Since it was already getting dark, we decided to hold off until the morning to load my bike into the trailer.

Little did we realize the kind of day we were going to have.

It was a great feeling putting running shoes on rather than my bike boots in the morning. It was also nice to simply throw my stuff in the back of the truck, rather than take the time to strap it all on the bike. After loading my stuff, we looked around for an easy place to load the bike. I wanted to back the truck up to a hill so that it would be easier to get the bike on the truck with just Heather and I doing it. We found the appropriate place, and I climbed in my truck to back it up. I turned the key, and heard nothing but the rattle of a starter that wasn’t going to start. I groaned. Tried it again, and then again. No luck.

I rode 7,500 miles (12,070 kms) on a 94 Dyna Wide Glide with 125,000 miles (206,000 kms) and the only issue I had was a broken speedo drive and a burnt out headlight. First time I climb into my truck, and it wont start. Now, my 2002 Ford F-150 has 186,000 miles (300,000 kms), so it’s hard to complain, but still! I got under the truck and smacked the starter, trying to get it to disengage. No luck.

I called AAA and we went back into the hotel to grab breakfast. About half an hour later, Heather’s neck was hurting (from the accident), so I went out to the truck to grab her a muscle relaxer. I decided to try starting it again, and it fired up! I went in and got her, and we loaded up the bike and headed out.

Since we were only a few miles from Hershey, PA, we decided we needed to go check things out there (and maybe pick up a little chocolate). If you haven’t read the story of Mr. Hershey, you should. It’s pretty amazing. He and his wife never had kids, and so one of the things they did early on was establish an orphanage to help children who may not be able to get an education. When they died, the Hershey’s left the majority of their estate, over $60,000,000 to the school, so that there would always be a place for less fortunate children. He was also cutting edge when it came to encouraging employee creativity. He facilitated an environment where anyone could dream up an idea for the company. Anyway, read up on the guy, he was an amazing leader and businessman.

When we left Hershey, we decided we’d go as far as Syracuse and find a hotel. There is an amazing biker bar in Syracuse called The Dinosaur. We figured it was a great night to enjoy some good food. The problem was, so did the rest of New York. The line outside the bar stretched around the corner, so we went elsewhere.

Now, when Heather and I were married, we decided to travel to the East Coast for our honeymoon. We left her homestead and just started driving, figuring we’d stop somewhere along the highway. We were a little past Watertown, NY when we decided it was best to crash for the night. However, when we pulled in to book a room, we were informed that there was a major event happening in Northern New York, and the chance of us finding a room anywhere between Watertown and Syracuse was slim to none. We ended up finding a “dirt bag” hotel that was the most disgusting, dirty place in New York. Yes, it was that bad.

I share that story for a reason. I also want to point out that during the past twenty five days, almost every night, I simply pulled up to a hotel and got a room. Not once was I told that there wasn’t any rooms available. (Okay, Heather points out that I was given the old head shake ‘no’ at that non-biker hotel in Colorado. The point is, they didn’t turn me down because there was no rooms, they turned me down because they wouldn’t rent for just one night).

Heather and I pull in to a hotel in Syracuse. I go in to book a room, and am told that there is something big happening in Northern New York, and there is no way I’m going to find a room anywhere in Syracuse. Not only that, but they have even received calls from Watertown, because there are no rooms there either!

Yup, it’s pretty clear to me who the “travel jinx” is!

We ended up driving the three hours from Syracuse to Ottawa and arrived home just before 1 AM. I’m glad we did. There truly is no feeling like climbing into your own bed after being on the road for almost a month. Same with jumping in your own shower the next morning. What a feeling!

By the way, it’s a high of 45 F (7 C) today in Ottawa. We have a frost warning in effect for tonight. Today will be the warmest day all week. It’s also the warmest it’s been in a few days around here. Yup, I’m back in Ottawa.

Anyway, I’ll update more early in the week. This is Thanksgiving weekend here in Canada, and I will be enjoying Turkey tonight with some good friends. Tomorrow, I’ll be seeing my sister and her family for some more good food.

Happy Thanksgiving, and thanks for taking this journey with me.

Well, I’m here. Harrisburg, PA. 439 miles (706 kms) today. Heather is meeting me here in Harrisburg, and we’ll be driving home together in the truck tomorrow, my bike in the back.

As I pulled my T-bag off the bike, I smiled. It was a strange feeling knowing that I wont be putting it back on the bike tomorrow.

This has been a great journey. I’m not writing my final thoughts today, because I’ll save those for sometime over the weekend, when I do a couple of “after-the-fact” posts.

Oh, and no rain again today. Unbelievable. When I checked the forecast this morning, they were calling for 90% chance of Thunderstorms here in Harrisburg. Well, all I see is blue sky. It’s all I had all day today.

Actually, I probably wasted about twenty minutes today just stopping and putting on / taking off rain gear. I did it twice. I left the hotel this morning without it on, figuring I’d wait until it was necessary. About two hours into the ride, it looked like I was heading into some stormy weather. So, I pulled over and geared up. Twenty minutes later, I want around a corner and was back in sunny skies. Never got a drop of rain. An hour after that, it was so hot, I had to pull over and take off the rain gear. I was sweating! Two hours later, more dark skies. Another stop to gear up. No rain, and sunny skies a few miles later.

That was the kind of day it was for me. When you think about the kind of weather that much of the U.S. is getting hit with, it’s truly amazing that I only had one hour of rain this entire road trip. Twenty five days, in late September and early October, and no rain. Gotta love it.

Alright, I need to go relax a little before Heath arrives. I’ll be offline for a few days, but will update more later on the weekend.

This is the Canadian Thanksgiving weekend, so Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

At the end of yesterday’s post, I stated that my goal was about nine hours in the saddle today. Well, from the time I pulled out of the restaurant this morning, until when I pulled up to the hotel tonight, it was ten hours. Eleven if you count the time change.

I rode 612 miles (985 kms) today. Wow. I’m tired.

One thing that has been very interesting on this journey is how fortunate I’ve been with the rain. Now, those from Bikers’ Church are probably smiling at that comment. You see, I have a bit of a reputation at home. First, you don’t let me pray for the weather when we are doing a ride, because it seems to always rain. And, if you’re going on a decent ride with me, make sure you bring your rain gear.

So, with that kind of reputation, I find it very ironic that in twenty four days, now over 7,000 miles, I have only had rain for less than one hour of this trip. I think I have broken the rain curse.

If you’ve been following the weather news, you know that there has been some pretty severe rain – and flooding – in many of the areas that I have been riding through. On each of the past three days, the forecast for where I was, and where I was heading toward, included thunder storms. In fact, each day, I packed up the bike and covered my stuff with the rain cover, just because I was sure I would hit rain. And yet, none. Not a drop.

I packed that way this morning. Even though the humidity was so heavy in Jackson, I decided to put on my rain gear. I was hot, sweating just standing still. But, the forecast was for heavy rain, so I decided to start out covered.

I took this picture around 10:30 this morning. This was the kind of “terrible rain” I battled all day today. It was simply gorgeous.

In fact, I got so hot, I pulled over on the side of the Interstate and took off all the rain gear, my jacket, and my sweatshirt, and ended up riding most of the day in a t-shirt. I hadn’t been able to ride without the sweatshirt since Vegas! It was so nice.

Do you ever notice how warm weather is so much more enjoyable to ride in? Of course it is. My mood was up and I simply enjoyed the many miles I put on the bike today. It didn’t start getting cold until the sun began to set.

As I write this, I am in Bristol, Virginia. Tomorrow I will ride straight up the I-81. Heather has the day off, and this weekend is the Canadian Thanksgiving, so she is planning on heading south on the I-81 to meet up with me tomorrow night. I guess it’s pretty cold back home, so she is bringing my truck. It likely means that tomorrow night, I will load the bike on the truck and drive back to Ottawa with her.

What I’m getting at is there is likely just one more day left in this road trip. Wow. I do plan on updating the blog over the weekend with some final thoughts on my journey. As well, I’m going to put together a slideshow of some of the better pictures and post it when I get a chance. I’ll save my “final thoughts” for then.

There are a lot of little thoughts that I would like to share, and hopefully once I’m not so tired, I’ll put them down for those who might be interested.

’nuff for today. Good night.

Ride Across America: Day Twenty Three

It was hard to get moving today. Not because I wasn’t up early. I was. Not because I didn’t have my bike packed and ready to go. I did. I needed to run to a couple of stores before I left town, and that ended up taking most of the morning.

Actually, it wouldn’t have been so bad, except I went on an unexpected tour. You see, I punched in the address to a WalMart into my GPS, and began following the instructions. However, at one point, I needed to turn left, but couldn’t. You see, there was an eighteen wheeler flipped over on it’s side, blocking the entire road. This flatbed was carrying a load of cars, and it looked like he had taken the corner too quickly, and flipped on his side. Not a pretty site.

So, rather than turn left, as my GPS instructed me to do, I was forced to go right as the cop was instructing me to do. At that point, my GPS began to get mad at me, telling me to make a U-turn and go back the way it had instructed me. I tried explaining that the cop wouldn’t let me go that way, but it simply would not listen.

I followed the truck ahead of me, hoping that he knew a way around the mess and back to the road we were supposed to be on. A few minutes later, I was in the middle of a very rough looking neighbourhood. I don’t know if Fort Worth has an inner city, but if it does, I was in it. As I rode through the streets, people walking would stop and stare at me. I know what they were thinking, “Stupid white boy. Gonna get himself in trouble.”

I sat up straight on my Harley and tried to look as big and as tough as I could. I even scowled a little and did my best to make the bike growl at every corner. It might have worked, if I had remember to turn off my GPS. Suddenly, as I was being stared at by a couple of guys standing across the street, my wonderful navigation unit spoke up.

Now, you should know that I have programmed little Stewie from The Family Guy as my GPS’s navigation voice. That’s right, the baby Stewie. When you don’t follow his instructions, he yells, “What the hell are you doing? This is not the way I told you to go. Now, do as I say!”

And, that is precisely what my wonderful GPS yelled at me in that funny accent of Stewie’s just as I was trying to look the meanest that I could. I roared away from the corner, not bothering to look back at the guys who probably decided that this White Boy was simply crazy and not worth the hassle.

I finally got back on track and found the WalMart.

It was close to Noon when I finally pulled out of Fort Worth. I rode a few hundred miles before stopping again. This time, a man walked up to me at a gas station. He was an older gentleman, and wanted to know where I was coming from.

I told him Ottawa, Canada (you see, Canadians have learned not to bother giving the name of our province, since most Americans don’t have a clue what province is where. We simply give our city name, and our Country, knowing that you still wont have a clue where we’re from). As I began to tell him where Ottawa is located, he quickly said, “Oh, I know where Ottawa is. I’ve been there a few times. It’s the capital of the province it’s in.”

I corrected him, explaining that Ottawa is actually the capital of Canada, not the province. He told me that I was wrong, and that it was the province’s capital (he didn’t know the name of the province). I tried once more to tell him that it was actually the Nation’s capital, but realized he wasn’t going to be convinced, so I let it drop.

(Just a little fun push at you Americans. I realize that you’re not going to learn every province’s name, or even the capital city of each province. But, since we are your biggest trading partner, your closest ally, and provide more tourists dollars to you than any other country, would it be a big deal if you could at least learn what the Capital of Canada is? And where Ottawa is located? Just saying. )

Back to the older gentleman. He is quite friendly, like most of the people I’ve spoken with. He tells me the story of a lady he met last year. She was 69, and she was on a SilverWing. She told him that every year she would head out on some sort of road trip on her own. She had gone from Maine to Florida. She had gone from the East Coast to the Mid West. And most of the Eastern States. Every year, she would take a few weeks and ride. The man thought this was so cool for such an older woman. I agreed. Very cool.

I hope I have that much energy when I’m an old woman. Wait a minute. You know what I mean.

The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful. I ended up dong 475 miles (764 kms) today.

Tomorrow is my really long day. If I manage to get as far as I am planning, I will be in the saddle for nine hours

Well, I really thought my streak of no rain was going to come to an end today. When I packed up this morning, I even covered my T-bag with the rain cover. It was overcast most of the day, and a few times I felt a few sprinkles, but I never actually hit rain. Twice I could see the rain in the distance, but it missed me.

I started out by going into the town of Roswell to check out the museum there. It’s pretty cool. It didn’t open until 9 am, and when I arrived about 8:45, there was already six or seven people waiting in line. There are some true believers out there. Two of those in line were bikers, and he struck up a conversation with me immediately. He was clearly more interested in my journey than in the museum, but his wife was getting a little bothered that he wasn’t focused on the exhibits. So, shortly after the doors opened, he turned his attention to her and all the things she wanted to point out to him.

From there, I grabbed a quick bite to eat at McDonalds. And, in that moment, I became a believer. Standing in front of me in line (actually, they budded in front of me), were a couple of ladies who had to be 200 years old (Okay, maybe they were in their 80′s). The scary thing was, one of them looked EXACTLY like one of the aliens in the news articles in the UFO museum. She didn’t look a little like the alien, she was the alien! I believe. I believe.

There wasn’t much of an adventure today after leaving Roswell. Just a lot of miles. 489 miles (786 kms) to be exact. The wind was still nasty at times, but not as bad as yesterday. For the most part, not much to look at or take pictures of. Just highway and interstate. I’d come upon a small town, and then ride back into nothingness.

It’s easy to lose your focus on a day like today. There’s nothing to look at. Nothing to keep your attention. I found myself just drifting off into mindless thinking. You might know what I mean. It’s the kind of thinking that you are unable to recall later, but keeps you in a fog while doing it. On two occasions, I realized at the last minute that traffic had slowed or stopped, and I was forced to react quickly, telling myself to pay attention to the ride.

One thing I’ve learned on this road trip is that drivers are pretty well the same everywhere. As I ride by some vehicles, I see the driver talking on the phone, playing with the radio, sending a text or tweet. Every once in awhile, you see someone reading. One day, I saw a guy with a newspaper spread out over the steering wheel. I couldn’t believe it.

As a biker, you have to be the one to be ready for anything. After all, you’re smaller. In a collision, they win, you lose. On this trip, I’ve found the time I am at the most danger is the last thirty minutes of the day’s ride. I’m eager to get to the hotel, and I am tired from a long day of traveling. It is when I stop focusing on the cars around me, and I just push to finish up.

I’ve heard that most accidents occur within a few miles from home. I’m sure it’s true, because in a way, with each hotel being that night’s “home” for me, I need to slow down and stay focused.

Perhaps it’s a good reminder for all of us who ride. Slow down and stay focused.

Another 500 miles coming up tomorrow.