I Get By

It has been a stretch of days since I last wrote, hasn't it? My only excuse is the riding portion of life has been a bit more time-consuming than the writing half. A dust storm in southrm Utah's canyon lands has got me hunkered down this time. I'll get caught up in chronicling while attempting to enjoy this sunset on my porch without taking too much dust in the eyes or go chasing Chance's supposedly weather-proof cover.

"With a Little Help from My Friends" is a Beetles tune that has been one of my favorites since I even knew what good music was. Besides cruising the American highways to it at full blast, the following couple of days have exemplified my change in gears from the lone wolf to a social butterfly for the sake of surviving the frontier and gaining treasured wisdom through newfound relationships.

The day after my dip in the briny waters was off to a good start with a hearty breakfast at the local International House of Pancakes. A coy young male server approached my table, apologizing for interrupting. He was a messenger sent by the group of female wait staff huddled in the kitchen sent to find out if I was a model and single. Hah! No on both counts. Seriously? When were dead flies and helmet hair fashionable? I look like a grizzly bear having not shaved in almost a month. Here's the most recent mugshot - you be the judge.

I wanted to cover a lot of miles and get as far south as I could today. The map convinced me that all the good stuff was down below and not to mention a rare eclipse passing through the area that I didn't want to miss. I thought there would be no distractions on the way but the rumble and bright reflection of chrome bikes gathered off the side of the road lured me in.

Feeling a little hesitant about playing the socializing card so soon and with this particular crowd, I parked a ways from what seemed to be the main event and strolled over in nothing more than my chaps. Strutted, rather. Inarguably the only fellow sporting brown leathers and the skin tone to match, you'd imagine a bit of self-consciousness and tension, but no. Like that fairytale about the emperor's new robes, I marched on in, taking the torrent of stares as flattery. To the men, sizing me up, not even the dignity of eye contact and to the women, especially the pin up girls, just a smirk and a flash of my ring.

This hard looking gent was first to acknowledge me. I half expected a curt rhetorical question along the lines of, "You lost, boy?". On the other hand, what I got was a hearty, warm welcome and the lowdown as to what was going on! It was a biker swap meet! For a mere two dollars I got a band wrapped around my wrist and entry into my first biker get together.

The looks were still coming but this time, instead of being too caught up in my ego, I was thoroughly preoccupied with the second-hand merchandise to care. Even the half-naked biker chicks strutting around seemed rather perturbed that a young man in his prime was more interested in chrome than silicone.

Of course most of the motorcycle parts I saw were 99% Harley Davidson only but it was still like a boy being in a candy shop. As I made my first round to all the booths, to my surprise, most of the sellers were rather courteous. I even recall a respectful nod from an intimidating tree of a man wearing a Mongols-patched vest (notorious rival to the Hell's Angels motorcycle gang). The peculiar attendees were a handful of people my age who seemed just as out of place but certainly comfortable in the prevalent biker culture.

It was then when it became apparent I wasn't the only pilgrim in a foreign land. In the middle of a sea of American choppers and bobbers was an oasis of old school standard bikes and parts!

Immediately I spied with my little eye some familiar-looking pipes that looked just like Chance's. Upon diving into the box my heart soared at the serendipitous find! Two parts that I had been looking for since even before the trip took off: luggage supports to keep my long-burned saddlebags off the wheels and a rear rack for the camping gear that had been haphazardly hanging off the back! A tall, lanky gentleman approached me and before I even considered a greeting and chit chat, I cut straight to the chase and demanded to know if these would fit a 2009 Bonneville! Surprised as I was that there was a fellow Bonnie-owner in the unlikely crowd, he briefly conferred with who appeared to be his brother and returned with a resounding yes! Everything in the box was! Trying to contain my excitement, I took only what I needed for a steal of $30 (sadly, the center stand was just a want)' I entertained a little bit of bike talk and actually found the guy to be rather cool, to say in the least.

Thinking I might've missed some more diamonds in the rough, a third round was made. No other British parts were found but a pair of custom leather wraps for the brake/clutch levers were acquired for another couple bucks. The young bearded fellow who sold them to me seemed like the bohemian who would concoct such a motorcycle vanity. Two more guys struck up a conversation with me upon asking if the green Bonnie was mine parked far, far away. We shared a laugh about that and the two went back and forth telling me about the amazing rides all over Utah, even casually inviting me to one! I declined thinking I'd be long in Arizona or even New Mexico by then but I enjoyed that brief moment of commaraderie.

Eager to get to my next destination to treat Chance to her new presents, I hastily made my way out of there. But just as I reached the parking lot, one of the guys, apparently a coordinator for the event, whistled me over.

"Where ya from," he asked in a sincerely curious tone. Obviously he could tell I was not from around here. The man seemed exceptionally entertained by my story because what happened next was his way of sending me off with his blessing. "Why don't you roll your bike in here and I'll have my girls get her cleaned up!" Oh my, a bikini bike wash... A bashful declination stumbled out of me only to be told that this one was on the house.

After a brief yet courteous introduction with the ladies, they got to work while the head honcho supervised.

Boy was Chance enjoying himself. I wasn't sure whether I should watch or give him some privacy. The guy who sold me the Bonneville parts, David, showed up and spared me the awkwardness. While they continued the spa treatment, David introduced me to his 2004 Bonneville Black in the parking lot - the very motorcycle I inherited the parts from. We chatted just long enough before the head honcho called me over again for one more gift from the motorcycle club...

Well, you can imagine what happened next. If you are naive as me at times, lets just say the after photo is not rated PG and will not be published... Ehem.

I must say, I didn't expect to make so many friends at an initially intimidating setting but it was a great return for just a bit of bravado. The differences that are culturally prevalent between Harley riders and everyone else may seem vast from the outside but simply being on two-wheels seems to command at least some level of respect - if not admiration. Makes sense since I manage to always get a return greeting from motorcyclists of all kinds whenever I extend my left hand to perform the timeless salute.

Getting back in the saddle a couple guys blocked some road traffic for me and waved me off. I caught a glimpse of one of the younger folks saddling up and thought it'd be nice to connect with people like that again. Little did I know it wouldn't be the last time I'd see them again!

The two of us rode south hard. Skipped lunch and just kept the bike's tank at least half full. 300 miles later, we came to rest at another motel in Cedar City where I couldn't wait to get to work on upgrading Chance's luggage system, or lack thereof.

As I littered the evening atmosphere with my clanking and banging, a car parked next to me and I couldn't help but overhear the sigh of relief when the family just about fell out of their bug-covered vehicle. A father and two sprouts not much younger than myself were harping on about how a nightmare the last day of travel had been trying to find a place to stay. Obliging myself, I chimed in asking if they were here to see the eclipse and was met by a resounding no, as if offended. The girl then explained that because of it, the most recent leg of their trip had been frought with crowds and full lodgings. Empathetic to their plight, I admitted only being in the area out of coincidence as well and exchanged stories.

The bubbly young lady and her father were taking her cousin all the way to Yellowstone where he got himself a summer gig. I didn't want to reveal my irresponsible trek in front of her father but the next day I'd receive his nod of approval. Taken by my spontaneous wanderlust of a tale, the girl, Noelle, confided the embarassing story behind her broken rear window which had my attention throughout the conversation. For her sake, we'll just say a bear did it. It was refreshing to converse and jest again.

I worked on Chance until it got too dark, cold, and with the hardware stores closed, I had to put my tools away and save it for the morning.

As if it were Christmas day, I sprang out of bed early to get back to work.

As I screwed on the last nut and stepped back to admire her more sturdy form, Noelle's cousin, Nad, appeared, getting ready to hit the road again. Earnestly curious about his summer plans as I had once expressed at working at Mt. Rainier National Park for a season, I struck up a chat. He tested the waters with me too, asking if I read at all. Then taking a shot in the dark, he threw out a book title, "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance." No way! We both just happened to be reading it. Small world.

The patriarch, a quirky man of whom I could see where Noelle gets her personality from, came out to greet me not long after. They were heading north while I, south, so he rattled off some places he thought I might find interesting to hit up on the way down. You'd think I'd be used to it by now but I appreciated his enthusiasm for my journey!

Mutually interested in how one another's summers would play out, Nad took my contact info and we wished each other safe and adventurous travels.

I'm beginning to enjoy Chinese food for the sake of the edible fortune tellers at meal's end. This one made me laugh out loud: "Visit a park, enjoy what nature has to offer!" Oh, all right - if you say so.

But first, I needed to get some writing knocked out, check the map and emails with a reliable internet connection, hence my gravitation to Starbucks coffee shops all throughout my travels. For the past couple of days I had been in correspondence with a young man and his family via the Couchsurfing network. Basically it's a tried and true system that promotes hospitality exchange and social networking. I had only partipated once years ago in an unintentional hoboing experience with my Japanophile friend through the Japanese countryside. Not only did it provide us a free place to stay but provided me a raw cultural exchange with extraordinary stories to boot. So, considering my circumstances and aspirations for this particular journey, the dust was blown off my Couchsurfing account and an invitation was received.

While replying, I noticed something lean against my leg...

Yes way. A brand new unopened iPad had been left behind! No one seemed to notice. And considering how much ferver this annular eclipse was garnering, I wagered it belonged to one of the out of towners. As a drifter, myself, no one would know if I rode off with it. Mine was just starting to run out of space and already suffered some falls. Selling it would also extend the financial life of this expedition. Perhaps this was karma's way of compensating for a past deed. However, despite all the signs pointing for me to take the serendipitous boon and ride far and fast, I thought about how that person would feel once he or she realized it was gone. Thoughts began to plague me about the dire situation I would be in if my own iPad - aka the journal/photo album/gps/music player/phone/etc - were to slip from my own hands. Out of respect for the cosmic good fortune of my quest, I handed it to the barista and hoped it could find its way back to its owner.

With that distraction out of the way, I began looking at routes only to be interrupted by a couple fascinated by my chest harness camera contraption. As much as I needed to be social for the time being, I wanted to get work done what with daylight burning for today a clock actually ticked for me. Tonight was, indeed the night of the annular eclipse and my Couchsurfing host intended to catch it together. Entertaining a couple questions, however, I found the gentleman, John, and his wife to be seasoned motorcyclists. Admittedly, I've met dozens so far so they weren't special until he mentioned graduating from the University of Washington, confessed to being a SAAB fanatic, and revealed that he once had a Triumph in the 80s, doing a similar trip to mine. We traded stories, while of course he had more to share but each one he had was ripe with motorcycling wisdom that I had not considered before. For instance, John stated as if it were a fact that deer seem to make it a pastime around dusk to cross roads. At first I thought it coincidence that the deer that nearly crashed into my girlfriend and I at Mt. St. Helen's last summer took place at sunset but in the following chapter I would learn first hand that it was a safe bet to call it fact.

The happy couple reminisced so charmingly. John then took it upon himself to suggest some routes and imparted to me his favorite camping spots as he worked for the forestry service. They sounded amazing but a bit out of my way. Later, by sheer luck, I would end up using the very routes but I'm getting ahead of myself. Before they parted, they gave me their address and insisted that if I either needed a place to stay or could use a garage to fix up my ride, I'd be more than welcome.

My mind was spinning with where I was going to head after Utah but by the height of the sun, there was no more time to waste in a coffee shop. In no time, the engine roared and just the right get up and go music was erupting from the speakers.

Rest stops along the way were cluttered with tourists busses. Was this solar eclipse really that big a deal?

As I descended in altitude into Southern Utah, I declared for the first time that it was incredibly hot. It felt as if my gloves were melting into the handlebars. Thankfully, I wasn't in it long, for my hosts' home was in a nearby city called St. George. It amazed me that a city could be erected out of the desert landscape but the home I'd be staying in for the night was a welcomed treat.

Bryce, the father of the young man who contacted me opened his garage door and welcomed this rider and steed into some much-needed shade. He called down his 21 year-old son, Ray, and I was warmly greeted by a bright, sociable, and enthusiastic fellow. Before I stepped inside, one of his friends, Devin, pulled into the driveway who would be joining us for the evening festivities. Let me tell you, he was quite a character.

In their beautiful home I met Ray's mother, Claire who was fixing me a great-smelling dinner. Like the road-hardened barbarian I was, I was quick to sit down and start wolfing down a home-cooked meal when Bryce managed to squeeze in a grace which was refreshing. It reminded me of when I was 10 and visiting my Christian neighbors for the first time for dinner. That time a couple spoon-fulls made it down my throat before I could utter an amen.

Bryce was a hospitable man of great humor and thoughtfulness. As a flight attendant for United for nearly 26 years, I was impressed at his enthusiasm for the industry and lack of jadedness that seemed to plague it. Besides airplanes, we never had nothing to talk about. He, along with the rest of his family, spoke fluent Mandarin to which I amused myself with listening in on as they seemed to speak it more than English. His wife, Claire, whom he had met while on mission to China was head of the mathematics department at the nearby university. She was the funniest of them all and you would never guess it by her mild demeanor! Over dinner, she made a note to express how impressed she was with my writing which meant a lot, considering that it's quite literally done on the go. Ray has been studying in Hawaii and no stranger to any sport that involves a board. Travel was a passion he exercised frequently as likely instilled by a lifetime of flight benefits for the family had just got back from Rome that week, I believe. Tomorrow, Ray and his friend would take off for the summer to travel all over the world. With a worldy personality and hunger for perspective like that, it's no wonder he invited me over! Then there's Devin who returned from mission to Texas recently. As he says, he's an easy one to figure out with simply one word: babes.

Dinner was unfortunately consumed quicklier than I wished for the sun was setting. The men piled into the van and took off for Kanarraville which was near by. Apparently, this town with a population of 318 was about to be put on the map today for being the best place to see this particular eclipse in the entire world! I joked that it would be like Woodstock only to find out it really was. There were license plates representing as far as Alberta Canada!

As we watched the sun slowly be devoured by the moon to a handful of cars blasting every possible cover of Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire," I really came to enjoy their company. Either I hadn't been around people much or they really were a hoot to be around but I was swept up by the way it seemed like I was with old chums.

Honestly, I was enjoying my new friends over the once in a lifetime celestial event. When it was over and the small Utah town became the nation's largest parking lot with everyone trying to bail, Bryce thought the night was much too young to turn home so he gave me a sneak preview of Zion National Park - my next park of exploration.

Something about the sun made the peaks that much more majestic that day.

Ray made a comment that rang a bell along the lines, "There's something about mountains that makes you want to just walk right over to them and climb." Scoffing, I told him, "I was only a year younger than you when I said something like that and managed to crawl away from one hell of a misadventure." The misadventure I referred to was what my friends and family recall as the Mt. Aoraki incident. Ray did remind me of myself in the regard that no horizon seems too far to us. Amusingly enough, I actually discovered a strong affinity with his friend, Devin, as well. We both seem to be obsessed with 50s culture, motors, and classic glasses frames. I lost count how often I told him, "I get you, good sir."

Speaking of motors, when we pulled back into the driveway, Bryce thought he'd show the new family friends what he calls his "treasures." Treasure was an understatement.

Both Devin's and my jaws were on the floor. Bryce humbly confessed he had just discovered Craigslist. The 1951 Chevrolet, he got from his father and had it repainted in the same two-tone scheme I want for my SAAB, Serendipity! The quintessential old farm pick up truck next to Chance was the only other vehicle I've considered owning. To go with it, he had a couple of quaint tractors he's been restoring between trips. Not to mention the small classic motorcycles were a huge plus. The item that has to win best of show goes to a mint 1930s Exercycle that still worked! Devin looked hilarious test driving it first! As awkward as the thing operated, it was just nice to get some joints moving again having done nothing in the fitness department in weeks.

Looking back, that was a refreshingly fun day. It made me think of all the people waiting for me back home.

After a brief tour of my quarters and a well-welcomed shower, I retired to Ray's room which had a quote from Bob Marley painted into the wall: "Don't gain the world and lose your soul, wisdom is better than silver or gold." I reflected a bit on the first part, believing it applied to me at this time in my journey. It reminded me of the last thing Christopher McCandless wrote in one his books just before passing away as a revelation that came too late: "happiness is only real when shared." Though I stress how much I hated the book, Into the Wild, what I learned from his story and even Aron Ralston's "Between a Rock and a Hard Place" (or the film 127 Hours), it's that people like myself may have the open road, or even the horizon at our fingertips with all of the world's natural wonders to be experienced but what good is it if it can't be shared?

When I finally reached my goal, the base of the glacier at the highest mountain in all of the southern hemisphere, Mt. Aoraki, my phone had died for just that part of the day. I had been taking pictures throughout the ordeal to show my family and friends and when I finally reached this awe-inspiring sanctuary I felt alone in the achievement. I did salvage the situation by filling up a Purell bottle with the pristine glacial water and staved off from drinking it throughout the arduous hike and climb back to safety a dozen hours later, dehydrated and delirious. The water was later put into a few miniature bottle pendants as a promise to my loved ones that I would never go off on my own on such a mindless quest again. In retrospect, that promise has since been broken but perhaps that's not what I inherently meant by giving them those water-filled pendants. I think I just wanted to share something awesome that I experienced.

Perhaps I am subconsciously trying to achieve the same gratification through this journal. And as much as I insist to being a loner, I think I've always craved company, be it an audience or even someone along for the adventure. Hmn...

The following morning, we sincerely thanked one another for the brief, though significant crossing of paths. I gave Ray my best regards for his travels, even giving some tips on where to go in case he wanted to be a hobo in Japan. The inspiring family insisted I'd always have a place to stay if I was ever in Southern Utah again.

From bikini-clad biker chicks to the most gracious Mormon family on the block, the strangers-turned friends I'm meeting on the road seem to be moving me in the right direction.