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!