Day 1
I started out last Wednesday to make the trek home. Ten miles outside of Beaumont, my bike broke down. What resulted was a 3-hour wait for a tow truck. Followed by that, another hour and a half at Cowboy Harley, only to leave me with my bike road ready again at 3 pm, still needing to get through the heart of Houston. Considering I am 90 miles outside of Houston, no thanks I think I’ll wait another day.
Now let me put this in perspective for you. I had been in need of a back tire; that I really would have preferred to have had changed before I had left. But shortly after my arrival, we went to Cowboy Harley-Davidson and I inquired at the service department about having new tires put on. I was none too happy with the way I was treated, so I decided that I was not going to have any work done there, I would just wait until I got back home and could deal with people I know and trust and that would treat me better. Besides, I rationalized, my back tire had enough tread to get me back home safely.
But as the days passed, this back tire issue wore on me and eventually I found myself fighting that battle of talking myself into something. Not wanting to go back to Cowboy, now I was running out of time, it would be ok—and if it wasn’t, I would be.
So off I went on Wednesday morning with discontent and doubts of worry churning in my gut. But I was ready to go, so I mistakenly assumed because I was ready to go, that my motorcycle and the world would adjust to what I wanted. Ten miles outside of town, I found that NOT to be the case. However, it was not my back tire that blew, it was my coil connectors that went out. Translation: no fire, no go. I had an ignition problem. But don’t let me fool you; I am not near smart enough to figure this out on the side of the road, as you might guess, since I had to wait for a tow truck.
So here I wait, and as it happened, right when Pulchritude started to sputter, there was an exit. It was the kind of exit that meanders you around, so fortunately, I had some distance between me and cars passing at 70. But I am in the hot sun being swarmed by love-bugs. I call roadside assistance and they advise me that a tow truck should be there to pick me up within the hour. Furthermore, they will call me back in one hour and 15 minutes to make sure service had been delivered. They called me back twice.
So long about a couple of hours, up drives a stranger to see if I need anything. “No, I am just waiting for the tow truck, but thank you anyway”, I told him. He pulls over and approaches me with an un-opened bottle of water, which I had forgot, but thought I would stop and get down the road. So much for taking the future for granted! I had just thought to myself a little earlier that I was really thirsty and wished for some water. Voila!
We talked about my bike and what might be wrong, just speculating, of course. Soon, roadside assistance is calling to check on me. Still no tow truck. Not even a phone call. As I am talking he gets on his phone and the best I can tell, he is making arrangements for my arrival back at Cowboy Harley-Davidson.
Now, I am not real excited about going back there because of my prior experience, but this happens to be the nearest dealership and I need my bike fixed. It’ll have to do. Now here is a complete stranger making a phone call in advance of my arrival asking that they make sure to get me in, out and back on the road. Hmmm…there is something to this. As it turns out, he knows the management over there. And as we continued to talk, I learned that he and his wife own a restaurant in a nearby town, so we start engaging in conversation about business. At some point, I must have become consciously aware of what was happening. Here I am having a business conversation with a complete stranger I just met on the side of the road. Wow! Isn’t it something how things work out when I am not spending all of my energy stomping my feet about why things couldn’t work the way I planned.
When the tow truck arrived, it was really nice that this stranger (Van) was there, because balancing a bike on a crossbeam while they tie it down it not an easy feat! But we got it done and headed back to town.
So now me and my bike have made it back to the dealership safe and sound and I am not out of pocket any money for the towing. And true to the strangers word, I was well taken care of. Not only did they get me in and out of an extremely busy service department in an hour and a half, but because the problem was so simple to fix, they didn’t even charge me! And when I had been told 10 days earlier, it would be 2-3 days to change the tires on my bike, now I had an opportunity to get it done before they closed same day!
As I am just getting my bike back, Van pulls up on his way back home. He was on his way back with the trailer he had gone to pick up. He tells me that he was supposed to pick up this trailer the next day, but had decided on a whim to go that day. And he normally didn’t stop at the place he stopped to grab a bite to eat, but for some reason he did. And he was supposed to be on a diet, but for some reason, he bought two sandwiches and two waters. I could not have planned this to be any better. Clearly there was a power greater than me at work here. It was out of my hands.
So why am I so grateful for this breakdown? Because I know, in the depths of my soul, that this breakdown saved me from something a lot worse. The miracle is that I didn’t lose my cool, I stayed in the moment and just adapted to what was and didn’t whine about what should have been. If I had had the choice to make between having an accident, let’s say, and having a breakdown—well, the choice is obvious. But thank goodness, even though I didn’t know what my choices were, I could take it in stride and be grateful.
How often in life have I been whiney or ungrateful for something, having no clue about what could have happened instead of what did? Gratitude, I learned, is priceless.
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p class=”MsoNormal”>Day 2
I start all over saying goodbyes again, but this time with peace of mind, absent that churning of discontent and worry. Although I have an intuitive, yet not fully conscious, knowing that the trip will again not be uneventful, I am at peace and ready for the adventure. And true it its form, life did not let me down. Twenty miles outside of Beaumont, ten miles further than I got the day before, I ran into rain so hard I couldn’t see the road. There was no other option, but to pull over and seek cover. The result: I started out at 9:30 that morning, an hour later than I had intended, what should have put me on the other side of Houston well before lunch, instead I was not clear of Houston until after 4 pm. Seemingly, the whole day is now shot.
But let me put this day in perspective for you. I was an hour later than I intended, because I took the opportunity to make a business call that I had intended to do earlier in the week, but had not made a priority. It was not without regret; actually it was to my pleasant surprise.
Within five minutes of getting on the highway, the sprinkles start. I pull over to top of my tank and take the opportunity to put on my rain suit and cover up my baggage. As I am filling up with gas, I see another motorcyclist pass. Once situated and prepared for rain, I hit the road. Despite the rain, I am still at peace realizing that this is part of it. It would be unreasonable to travel long distance on a motorcycle, that being my only form of transportation, and expect that I might not encounter some inclement weather and possibly delays. On a motorcycle, I find that I don’t impose expectations on myself, others, or Mother Nature because its futility is so obvious. Why can’t I do that so easily in my life, I wonder?
Just on the outskirts of Beaumont, the rain sets in her groove, but the conditions are still “ride-able”. So along I poke, slower than normal, but still making progress. The rain taunts me. It picks up momentum and I think I will pull over. As I seek the next exit, it pulls back, as if to say “Ha, just kidding”. And so it goes, pull over/press ahead/pull over/press ahead. At some point in this cycle, I pass a motorcyclist seeking shelter under an overpass, the same one, I think, I saw go by when I was getting gas. By the time I see him, I am already past him and with an 18-wheeler at my tail, stopping safely was not an option.
So I go on, until finally I surrender, pulling over to put on my saddlebag covers—the one thing I did not do at the gas station. I don’t want my camera to get wet and I have stored it in my saddlebags for easy access in the event to of an irresistible picture opportunity. Again the game continues; the rain eases. So I venture out to press onward, until a few exits later, she has finally won and I don’t want to play anymore. I exit where there are multiple gas stations, eateries and a presumed flurry of activity. The first station I approach on the exit ramp is a Texaco, but I can see just far enough to see the bright yellow of the Shell pectagon just beyond the Texaco and I want to stop there, because someone that means a lot to me works for Shell. The easy thing to do would have been to pull under the side closest to me, considering how hard it was raining. But in what I think, at the time, to be my choice to park on the other side because that will point me in the right direction when I am ready to leave, turns out to be the start of my next surprise.
Apparently, the other motorcyclist I have now seen twice has already sought cover at the same station I am now pulling into. Anytime one motorcyclist runs into another, especially under these conditions, there is instant rapport to strike up a conversation. It’s like a fraternal bond. And we were going to be there a while. Why not have a cup of coffee! Turns out Doug and his bike Thriller have been on a 2800 mile journey through eight states. We are in Beaumont, Texas and we discover that we both know the same person in Akron, Ohio! What a small world! All of the things that lined up for our paths to cross—complete strangers and we both know the same person! That is no coincidence!
I think it must have been an hour/hour and a half, I am not really sure. The time passed quickly, since I had company. By now, the rain had eased and we set out to try to make our way across Houston. The only remaining thing that I had been a little nervous about was riding thru Houston by myself. Although I knew everything would be ok, I now had a riding partner to get thru Houston. I could not have planned it any better!
So we set out and about 10 miles down the road, the rain returned with full fervor—relentless she was determined to be—and so we adjusted to what was and just continued to ride. It was manageable and the worst of it was behind us, but we rode halfway thru Houston in the rain, before we finally got out from under it.
By the time I got to Mancuso Harley-Davidson, on the outskirts of West Houston, I was blazing hot in my rain suit. They hadn’t had a drop of rain all day! Go figure!
The rest of my westward trip was relatively uneventful, but self-discoveries and revelations were abound. Just outside of Austin, I got on Hwy 1431, which has been rated #9 out of 10 in the Reader’s Choice Top 10 Rides. It was FAB! Once you get thru Cedar Park, it is a phenomenal ride with curves and hills that remind me why I love motorcycling so much. At Marble Falls, it sort of planes out the rest of the way, but it was well worth doing.
The other Top 10 thing I did was eat at the Bluebonnet Café in Marble Falls, which is #1 out of 10 in the Reader’s Choice Top 10 Breakfasts. All I can say is go eat there!
