Live Free, or Die

Day 2 Epic Summer 7/2/2010

What can I possibly say about the ride through New Hampshire other than it was absolutely gorgeous! The weather was perfect and every curve in the road revealed pockets of breathtaking landscapes. Mojo got the thumbs up from several helmetless biker dudes and chicks, but I chose to keep my brain bucket cinched up tight ... always better safe than sorry in my opinion.

Cruising along through the mountains, I noticed a sign that said, "Best BBQ north of Memphis." Being an Arkansan and knowing what smoked pig should taste like, I was curious enough to give it a shot. Also, I've come to discover that wherever there is BBQ, there are bikers, and this place was no exception. I pulled Daimon right up next to a big shiny Roadking classic, took Mojo for a potty break, wrapped his leash around my crash bar, and walked inside the smoke joint. It had all the right sounds and smells, and I was instantly greeted by the deep voice of a round bellied southern man. I replied with, "That can't be the voice of a New Hampshire local I hear." He chuckled, fessed up to being from Kentucky, and proceeded to explain how the woman behind the bar lured him up here to the mountains. I ordered what any good BBQ connoisseur would reach for when testing a smokehouse out, 1/4 rack of ribs and a pile of pulled pork. After sampling an array of sauces, I explained that I would be dining outside on the curb with my pup, and the Kentucky man followed me with a big bowl of ice water. After swapping motorcycle stories with the owner of the Roadking and watching Mojo lick his paws of the last greasy spots from his portion of pork, we carried on towards Portland, Maine.

It had been many many years since I'd seen this old friend of mine who now resides in South Portland. As I rode along, a memory of her in high school immediately came to me.

"Jen, has a girl ever tried ... to approach you?"
"Uh, what do you mean?"
"You know what I mean."
"No, I don't think so?"

I knew what she meant, but I wasn't ready to hear it. I'm pretty sure I've known all my life, but high school wasn't the time for me to realize it. So much of me was undefined then, and at the moment that memory resurfaced I was so satisfied that I could at least define that part now, and comfortably and proudly so. I smiled excitedly, anxious to get to her home to meet her family. She has a life that I think many would envy, a loving partner, a beautiful little girl, and a group of solid people around her. Their house was a cozy one, and her partner had, through her own blood, sweat and tears, built an addition that served as a preschool/daycare that she ran. And though I did not expect a place to crash for the evening, the toddler sized tables and chairs would become my floor buddies for the night. There is nothing more loving and hospitable than an offer of a place to bed down and a home-cooked meal, and I was lucky enough to be afforded both that night from an old friend.

So I say, cheers to the lovely ladies of South Portland! Thanks for the warmth!

The Key To The Highway

Day 1 Epic Summer 7/1/2010

As I worked to attach my belongings to Daimon in the garage, I felt like a bag lady that won a Harley at a casino. My bike was packed so heavily with crap that I may not have had a rear suspension at that point, but I did my best to have all the things that Mojo and I needed to travel comfortably for a couple of months. I watched him lick himself with no idea what he was in for, but I knew that as long as he was with mama, everything would be right in the world for him. I envied him at that moment, and not only because he could lick himself ...

We said our goodbyes to our friends that were there in the garage to see us off, I clipped Mojo into his seat, and belted out as loud as I possibly could, just as I started the engine, the words made famous by many blues artists over the years, "I've got the key ... to the highway ... long way to go ... I'm gonna leave here runnin' ... ain't comin' back no mo'" And with that, we were off.

Speaking of keys, I can't even begin to tell you the breathe of fresh of air I tasted when I realized that I had only one key as of that day. I had no house key, no office key, no garage key, no ID badge, no mailbox key, and no car key. My once jumbled mess of a keychain was reduced to the one that goes vroom vroom!

The whole ride that day was filled with moments of realized freedoms. I didn't care about my cellphone. Hell, it's turned off and in a bag. I wasn't waiting for any important emails. Aside from updating Facebook and letting people sort of know when I was due to drop in, I saw no need to worry about time. I don't wear a watch, and that didn't really matter anyway. I knew that the sun and weather would pretty much determine my daily progress. It's just me, Mojo, and the single key, and I was grinning ear-to-ear because of it.

Of course, leave it up to my hound to truly capture the emotion that day. We were on a country road in the Adirondaks, far away from any other people, at least that I could tell, and I saw a huge bird (hawk, eagle, I really don't know) soaring. I felt Mojo perk up behind me and I glanced in my rearview mirror. He had clearly gotten a glimpse of the bird too and he started following it with his eyes. As the bird dipped down and passed us overhead, Mojo let out this amazing, "Arrrooooooo!" I almost choked on that feeling. So I just howled with him. This, my friends, is a hell of a ride!