The Motorcycle Ride

After one year of teaching, my friend Janel and I visited a motorcycle dealer in Indianapolis...just looking. After looking and talking I decided I would buy a KZ400. Never mind that I had just ridden dirt bikes maybe twice in my life...Janel assured me she knew what she was doing (first red flag). Of course, I had no credit card and not enough money in my checking account so the helpful and kind salesman allowed me to use their phone to call my parents. My mother answered, we spoke briefly then I asked her if she could do me a favor. Sure, my mom replied, what do you need? Oh, just a cashier's check from my savings account for $2000, nothing much, I replied. There was silence on the other end, then my mother said, why don't you talk to your father... My father wanted a clarification and I repeated my request. And this cashier's check should be made out to whom, my Dad asked. Now the hesitation was on my end. Keystone Kawasaki I meekly replied. I think we will talk about this when you get home was my Dad's answer. We hung up and my motorcycle dreams drifted away. Then the helpful and kind salesman said that if I would write a check for $50 I could take the bike and send the rest when I got to Fort Wayne and accessed my account. What a deal! Would that even happen today? I wrote the check and was now the proud owner of a bright red Kawasaki that I had little clue how to ride.
Janel got on the bike and I followed in her car, in rush hour traffic on a Friday as we drove from north central Indy to the south side of the city. When we got to her house, we went to a little traveled street and she began her lesson, showing me the clutch, brakes and how to shift. After absorbing the lesson and observing her from the back of the bike, I gave it my first try. I let the clutch too quickly and promptly stalled the bike. I repeated this three more times and yelled "I'm taking this damn bike back". Janel, ever the patient teacher, explained and showed me again how to slooooowly let out the clutch. On my next attempt, I did so and began to glide down the street. OK, maybe I didn't glide but I was moving. I repeated this a few more times and as I got more confident I decided to ride down her street. I passed her house and there was her father. I honked and waved as he stared at me with his mouth open, speechless.
The next morning, I drove to Fort Wayne to play in a softball tournament and my parents were due to meet me there to watch the tournament. When I met them in the parking lot, they asked where Janel was and I told them she would be arriving later in my car. When they asked how I had arrived I pointed to the nearby motorcycle. Though not happy, they managed to remain calm and stay and watch the softball game.
Later that summer my mother expressed interest in going for a ride. We were at my parents house and I gave my mom a helmet and she got on the back and I took her for a ride through the neighborhood. When we returned to the house, my mother said "let me try it". I looked warily at Janel and hesitantly said OK, let me show you how. I suggested that I get on the back with her but she hopped on and said "I can go by myself". I started it and put it in gear as I showed her the clutch and explained the gears. I was still explaining important things like braking when she eased out the clutch and began to move down the street. (Unlike me she seemed to have mastered this on her first try!) I ran along side the bike and tried to continue my instructions when she accelerated faster than I could run and left me behind and disappeared around the corner. I looked at Janel and she shook her head and said "your mother..." which seemed to say it all. We laughed and anxiously waited and hoped for her return. Had I gotten to the part about the brake? A couple of minutes later, we heard the bike coming from the opposite direction, the engine revving at high RPM...still in first gear. She had ridden around the block in first gear the entire way and as she approached, we doubted she had any idea how to brake. As I braced myself to run along side the bike to stop it, she angled toward the yard, went up the curb and dumped the bike into the grass. Thankfully the helpful and kind salesman had suggested a leg guard be installed and the guard at that moment protected my mother from the weight of the bike. So not in any danger, my mother had a firm grip on the throttle and the back tire was spinning furiously. I had visions of the bike catching and doing a "motorcycle break dance" with my mother at the center. I rushed to the bike and hit the kill switch. Janel, my mother and I then all collapsed in the grass laughing uncontrollably as we imagined what her ride had been like and enjoyed the relief that the outcome was only a bump or bruise.
My mother was probably 51 years old at the time. She never asked to ride the motorcycle again, but her only ride was another testament to her spirit and sense of adventure.

Remembering Mother

My mother was no one special. She was intelligent with a keen inquisitive nature. She graduated from Franklin College with a degree in biology and took a job at Eli Lilly in the lab. She quit that job for the full time career of raising four children and a husband. I am not sure which of the two took more effort. She had a great sense of adventure and loved to travel to new places. She took a trip to Antarctica with a college friend when she was seventy years old. She was not witty or a great joke teller but she had a special knack for coming up with a funny, memorable comment at just the right time. My mother died five years ago and my friends and family still tell amusing stories about her. With every passing year, I realize just how adventurous, smart, funny and, well, special she was.

I include one memorable story here and hope to add others. I hope that friends and family will comment with other stories and memories.

Growing up we always had a sandbox in our backyard. It was a simple structure, a square of two-by-sixes set into the ground by my father. The start of each summer was marked by the arrival of a dump truck with a new load of sand. This was quickly followed by kids of all ages from all over our neighborhood. By the end of every summer the sand was flattened, having been kicked, thrown, eaten, rubbed onto heads and made into pies by the neighborhood. One summer weekend, we were playing in the sandbox. The adults were in the next yard relaxing in lawn chairs. Some of us began running and trying to clear the six foot span of the box. As one of the older kids, maybe seven or eight at the time, it was fairly easy for me. After several minutes of broad jumping, my mother got up from her lawn chair and joined the line of kids awaiting their turn to jump. I imagine someone mentioned that they used to be able to do that, my mother countered that she still could, someone expressed doubt that she could and game on! Did I mention that beer drinking was involved? Anyway, my mother's turn came and all activity stopped as kids and adults alike watched. She sprinted toward the sandbox, launched herself into the air, landed on both feet on the other side of the sandbox, lost her balance and was propelled forward hands outstretched as if sliding headfirst and skidded on our sidewalk. She got up, brushed herself off, looked at her scraped palms and declared "told you I could still do it". At that moment I was the proudest kid in the neighborhood.

A Visual Look at the Trip

Here is a map of the path of our trip.

The Statistics

Miles driven: 5750 (plus 250 rental car miles)

Gallons of Gas used: 635

Avg. MPG 9.05

Avg. Price per Gallon: $3.68 (yikes!)

Days of Driving: 21

National Parks Visited: 5

Flat tires: 1

Batches of frozen margaritas: 2

States visited: 16

Times we said "it's the journey!" : 137

Picture: Yellowstone River falls

Home At Last

We woke up Friday morning eager to get those last miles over with! Driving I70 through Illinois and Indiana is fairly boring but we had a book on tape, Grisham's The Appeal to finish. We pulled in front of our house around 4:30 pm after 5750 miles. (And 275 miles on our rental van in Yellowstone.) It then took us about an hour and a half to haul everything out of the RV...much of it is still in the garage, some waiting to be distributed to friends, two very dirty bikes that need to be cleaned, and some stuff we have to find room for (I bought a box of RV-suited toilet paper, 40 rolls...needless to say we have most of it left over!)
We went to dinner at Kathleen's parents' house. Then Saturday morning we cleaned the RV and, somewhat sadly, returned it. We think next time we can handle a bigger class A (bus type) with some slide outs!!! Then we, of course, headed to the lake to see our friends!
We have yet to total what we spent, but it was worth it!

Again, broken camera, so I have included a couple of photos from Kris and Maddie's home in New Mexico. One is a pic of their living room and the other is the view west from their deck, including the sight of their "nearest" neighbor!

St. Charles, MO Day 20

Again, not much to see on the road. At the start of our trip we read a book to each other, The Smartest Guys in the Room, the story of the Enron collapse (eerily similar to our federal government now). We finished the book today...a 20 day read! Then we started a book on tape, Grisham's The Appeal. We have had really cheap gas in OK, 3.069 today (how sad, though, that we think this is cheap!) Maybe that is why the roads around Tulsa are so bad.
Kathleen found an RV park in St. Charles, Missouri that had cable TV and wireless (her two conditions). It is a really nice park, so she is forgiven for the Tulsa debacle. The park actually has a restaurant right next to it so we are settled in for the night, sitting outside with toothless Banks, will walk to the restaurant, stumble back then watch the VP debate on TV. We plan to get up early for the last day of our trip... Fort Wayne here we come!! See you all soon!
Back to reality, although I am not sure what my reality will be since I have no job. I will make it up as I go along!!

Tulsa, OK

A pretty dull drive today, nothing much to see, good thing, too, since the camera is broke!!

We arrived at Mingo RV Park in Tulsa...Kathleen picked it out from Woodalls...it looked good in the ad. What a shithole! It is mostly a permanent residence park...a different breed than vacationers. First we had to wait until someone moved their car, parked in our spot. We squeezed in the spot (backwards), easy to do with our two-way radios. (thank you Meribeth)
Kathleen refused to come out of the RV, too many cigarette butts on the ground!

We changed, relaxed a bit then set out for the Cherokee Casino!! It was huge, many table games and slots, of course. We decided on slots since the table games were a little pricey. Kathleen was the lucky one...she hit for $85 on wheel of fortune and also made about $40 on slots. I, on the other hand, lost, lost,lost!! On the way back to the RV park, Kathleen made a plea to stay in a Ramada we passed. I said it would be contrary to the design of our trip, since I was driving, I won. We returned to the RV park, in the dark, and found a pick up truck parked in our spot!! Neither one of us wanted to chance rousting the truck owner in the dark, so after grabbing a mat we had left there, we went to the office to get the manager. After getting our money back, Julie gave in and we headed to the Ramada. There was no wireless in the Ramada so I had to wait to blog! Kathleen was happy in her hotel room and they had a free breakfast buffet in the morning!