Finding Home on the Road

Though I've tried to comprehend the fear, I could only feel a certain amount of sympathy. I know that Sash is afraid of leaving behind a house, a car, her belongings, her friends and a community, but I try to express that these are all external "security blankets" that comfort anxieties we hold deep inside.

As we left San Diego yesterday, kicking off the official start of Road Pickle, I could only feel enthusiasm for finally getting this road trip underway. In a way, we've been on this road trip the past couple of months if you consider we've been living out of motels and relying on our motorcycles for transportation. But yesterday was the day we finally finished up with business commitments, and was free to leave.

I couldn't feel any sadness for leaving behind San Diego or even Menifee, our long time home for the past couple of decades. I didn't even feel sad about leaving behind our friends; somehow I know we'll be seeing them again.

But Sash was teary eyed and couldn't hug her friends and family members long enough as she bid them goodbye.

It makes me wonder if I even left home, or if perhaps the road is my home.

It seems I've always been running away.

My parents divorced when I was seven, and then remarried new spouses and had new kids. I felt abandoned, replaced, and ignored. I found refuge in one friend who was living a similar childhood, but otherwise, I was riding my bicycle down the Santa Ana River Trail for as far as I could ride. As long as I was far away, I didn't have to face my troubles.

There's a strange feeling that the less material possessions I have, the more I seem to be in touch with myself.

Somehow, when in times of anxiety, I want to shut myself off from the external world and go deep into my spirit for comfort. The material things around me only seem to get in the way. It's as if these things have me surrounded and cornered. I need to get away and find that naive, innocent little boy inside.

Over the decades, through all the hardships, the pain, conflicts and confusion, his mind became poisoned and cluttered. It's like I need to hit the reset button and just clear all that shit out of me.

Honestly, I could do this road trip forever.

5 comments | Post a Comment

---

Getting One Step Closer to the Road Trip

Step One towards our 6-month motorcycle road trip is complete. We moved out of our apartment in San Diego and put our stuff into storage. We're technically homeless right now, though for the time being we are staying with Sash's relatives about an hour north in a suburban, though somewhat rural area called Menifee.

We still have some business to take care of before we can embark. We're still on target to leaving in mid-April.

Meanwhile, I spent the day today riding to Arizona for Drupal Camp Phoenix.  It's supposed to rain tomorrow.

Next week, Sash is flying up to Seattle. Her marketing business landed a contract with a national dental charity to attract donations from big companies like Proctor & Gamble and Colgate-Palmolive.  All throughout this year, including during our 6-month road trip, she'll have to attend dental conferences and trade shows.

It'll make for some interesting logistics.

That is, she'll need her formal wear and business clothes for the gigs, which we won't be packing on the road trip. So when she needs to fly out somewhere, she'll have to have someone retrieve her gowns and suits from storage and have them FedEx'd to the hotel she'll be staying at.  And when she leaves, she'll fly back to where I am, and her stuff FedEx'd back into storage.

Otherwise, I don't really have anything philosophical or deep to share; I'm too tired after all the slab I rode today.

It is nice to ride a motorcycle in Arizona.  Not having to wear a helmet reminds me of riding when I was still in my teens, before California passed the helmet law.

4 comments | Post a Comment

---

Finding Inspiration in France

Two and a half years ago, I met Gary France. He was on the last day of a 5-month long, 21,000 mile journey across the United States on a Harley-Davidson. And when I first got a look at him, he had every one of those 21,000 miles on his face.

Today, his book, "France in America", goes on sale...

The extraordinary 21,000-mile journey to explore the hidden corners of 27 American states unfolds through a down-to-earth record of what he saw, who he met and what he felt on the road, backed up with an impressive photographic inventory.

We met in Oceanside, CA. Stopping for a bite at Pizza Port in San Clemente, my friend Jack and I picked Gary's brain about motorcycle riding in jolly old England. From there, we took him along Ortega Highway, ending at Lookout Roadhouse for a view of Lake Elsinore. And that was it. He had to get back on his way up to Los Angeles, which was only another hour's ride north, to finish the trip.

At the time, I had written a blog piece about meeting Gary entitled, "The Unwritten Language of Motorcycling".

Subsequently, Gary wrote a blog piece about riding with Jack and I, "Motorcycle Philosophy and the Ortega Highway".

I can't help thinking about Gary's trip across the United States as I'm a month away from taking a 6-month road trip my own.  Maybe someday I'll make it across the Atlantic to ride with him in the mother country.

Here are some photos of mine I took of the meeting...

3 comments | Post a Comment

---