The Sadness Is Mine

Ryan Adams said this, "the sadness is mine."
Today, I say it. Sadness, realizing that I am the most productive by myself, but most motivated when with other people. Now, that is a rather large discrepancy. How do I reconcile that? I get most motivated when other people are around, but I get more done when they leave?

What am I suppose to do? "Hey Chad, yeah, can you come over for I dunno, 20 minutes, and give me a pep talk", I'd say. Then 20 minutes in, "Okay, now get the F out!"

I don't see how that works. I love to share my idea's with people, with friends, but when I do, I don't get much movement on them. But when I keep them bottled up, I need to see some sort of movement, so they come out in actually getting it done.

Then there is the side of me, that after sharing my dreams, and good ones they are, with a friend, I immediately turn around and think that they might steal my idea and do it themselves. After all, they have more money, more connections, etc. So then I talk myself into trust issues with my closest friends.

As you can see, the sadness is mine. And still no running bike to take it out on the road.
Damn shame.

Aaron's Bike Path

We all take different paths to our first two-wheeled purchase. I'm not talking about rambling a pedal bike down a creek drainage for the first time, though the title suggests it. And I'm not talking about the '68 Rok-on that you saddled up every time you went to your cousin's farm. I'm talking about the first time the conscious decision was made and the dear cash handed over in exchange for internal combustion between two tires. When friends tell me that they want to buy their first motorcycle I tend to calculate an instant power-to-weight ratio of sorts for the rider's weight, body-type and physical ability, etc. What usually comes spilling out is a bike that is controllable and fun enough to never out-grow. But just tonight, I read an old blog from one of the Cycle World writers and I am reminded that not everyone's path is the same.

02.01.2007
GETTING SMALL
by Keith May

I am just realizing, but Nathanwide and his CB100 already understand, that sometimes it's better to just ramble along. You get to see more trees, more leaves, and take more time to stare down that Douglas Squirrel in the middle of Camp Sherman Lane. There is more experience in the world around the pavement and maybe more freedom, but even if I'm wrong about that I now believe I need to make room in my stable for smaller bikes.

So why did I decide yesterday that this was the next addition to my fleet? It only comes in that yellow and I still want it... unless I find a mid-70's XL250 before Aaron.

TWAFR Teaser 1 HWY 138 E Crater Lake to 97 N

Below is just an unedited teaser. Camera shots are bad as the road was bumpy. But if you look closely, it is beautiful country.

First Up

Day 2: 9:11 a.m.:

I am the first to rise, by almost two hours. Nit hardly a sound from the others, save a muffled snore from Officer Hillson, and a once and a again rustling from someone rolling against a tent wall. I keep thinking Aaron is going to rise, but he never does.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

A Long Winding Road

And so we go. The six, we go. Four riding high. Two riding low. A late start, but hospitable. Pizza, and a "don't forget to pee before you go.".

Fiddling with gadgets and I'm questioning how much of a break from reality this truly will be. Videos and cameras, iPhones and Twitter. How can I share with the world when I'm trying to get away.

A long road. Salem. Then, Albany. A missed turn and...

...there it is. "did you see that sunset?!", he screams after rolling into camp. It's dark now, the camp host wishes a fun, but quiet night. A hollar..."then, that's when...it all came pouring out and I realized I was gone..here I mean. Right there in Dallas as you turn toward the west. The sun was setting right then. Pouring golden rays across the valley floor.

It's dinner now. Dogs. Not on the open fire tonight though. No real wood could be found. They said you could find some across the street at John-boys, but he too must be lost.

We did well I think, to pick this spot. Nestled in close to the Alsea river. We are probably only 20 mikes from Waldport as the crow flies. It's getting late. We are stoked to be on the road, in the quiet place.


Update: 12:07 a.m. Day 2:
I had a longer day than most, having risen at 5am. So naturally I'm the first to bed. I've got a lump under my bed. This ground is no where near even. The 5, they sit around the fuming fire, quiet yet bristling with joy and muffled laughter. They have respect for the other two campers in this 20 site campground. I'm out, sooner than I thought.

Update: 1:47 a.m. Day 2:
It's loud outside and I don't know why. It's not coherent yet. I have to wait for the scene to settle in my mind, for those gears to start turning. I look at my clock. I've only been out an hour or so. What is that ruckus?
I hear people. Are they my people? Part of us 6? I hear music, a guitar, we brought a guitar, it must be at least one of the Truebs.
Then it comes into focus. Nathan Wide is playing his guitar and singing. It's a beautiful sound when you adjust after the wakening. 10 more minutes and I'm out.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

We Are They

For sake of not plagiarizing I have posted this link to my favorite Robert W. Service writing: http://www.robertwservice.com/modules/smartsection/item.php?itemid=82

Here, now, we start our adventure.

An Un-Answered Prayer to The Motorcycle God's

I'm not sure what it was that lead me to this. It could have been the ill timing, my inexperience, or rushing to get things done. Some how I tightened a bolt so tight that I broke (1) easy out, (5) black oxide bits, and devoured (4) grinding heads, and it is still locked in there. I prayed to the motorcycle god's, and recruited help from a friend, and after 12 or more labor hours on that bolt we finally called it quits last night so I could rest up for the big day.
Sunday night, the Captain's wife said to him, that maybe we should take this as a sign. That maybe this happened to save us from something terrible. Not quite the words one wants to hear from a family member. It was quickly shrugged off, and back to my bolt I did go. Two days ago I had readied myself for the possibility, or perhaps the reality, that I would be spending much more time with the Fly Rod, than with Two Wheels on this trip.
It's not as though we are taking an extra vehicle. A follow vehicle, and a trailer with a CB100 on it, was always the plan. My younger brother was slotted to drive the truck and trailer. He has considerably more experience than the other two with a trailer, but still less than is desired. As well, yesterday, my brother (whom just moved to Oregon from California) was told by a very friendly police officer, that he was not legal to drive in Oregon. Without getting into specific details, he could no longer drive the truck on the trip. Just the sign I needed. At that moment I realized that perhaps the bolt did break for a reason, but not to keep us from impending doom. But rather, to enable 3 other men to enjoy what will be a most spectacular trip.
Had my bolt not broken, and I was able to ride my motorcycle, I would be rather upset in the current situation; being torn between riding, and towing the trailer. But as it stands, I must resign myself to destiny, to actuality, and for the greater good of the other men on the trip.
I threw in my helmet and gear this morning, just in the off chance that I may be blessed with some riding time, on a bike that is not my own, on this wonderful first of summer trip.