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Archive for April, 2010

Yesterday in Tennessee some guy downloaded a Harley out of a toy hauler, drove it to the sign that said “Welcome to Tennessee”, took pictures and then put the thing back on the truck. I asked what he was doing and he said the hog chapters have an abc game of some sort where you win things for riding to each state. His idiot wife chimed in that, “yes” they had won vacations and all kinds of crap. My mouth hit the ground!

What a fucking moron. How embarrassing and this retard had no idea what an asshat he appeared to be. Believe me I got pictures so I can show you what an ass wipe poser looks like. I’m normally kind to people who trailer I figure they are old, ill, short on time or what ever but this???? You’ve got to be kidding!

And the turd was extremely proud of his motorcycles. He wanted me to know that his wife insisted on matching motorcycles and that hers only had 9 miles, his had like 49. How the hell did he rack up 49 miles pushing it to and from the toy hauler, with his big ass name on it by the way. Larry and Mary’s Hog Hauler from Minnesota don’t ya know. And of course he was wearing big Sturgis Logos all over himself.

I was so disgusted, I think I vomited on his Harley boots, I don’t remember because I was so busy kicking him. Yeah keep an eye out for Larry with his big ass  toy hauler with the huge Harley-Davidson Motor Cycles, Outlaw and Larry and Mary’s Hog Hauler written all over it. There was a study at Johns Hopkins about men with low testosterone and how they beat their wives and buy lots of compensation toys. It appears to me this guy is probably a eunuch!

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There’s an old saying, don’t push the river!

Just wait for the gifts to float down to you. This week has been a prime example of me trying to make something work that the Universe had no intention of  allowing to work and I was pushing the river hard. I started this trip to show you America but my trip very quickly became about a broken motorcycle. I became 7 days late, missed many meetings and opportunities. And after 9 breakdowns of my camera bike I sent the bike and rider back to California. I hope we’re still friends but this ride can’t be about a motorcycle breakdown, it can’t even be about me. The story is about America and the wonderful people who make up my country. And the fact that any woman can get on a motorcycle and tour my country in relative safety.

This year my family was instrumental in bringing a woman from Afghanistan to the US for political asylum. And I have had the privilege of  spending time with her. She is a darling, very gentle, very loving girl but she’s also the most terrorized person I’ve ever met.

At Christmas I took her to NYC to see Ms. Liberty and all the great things I love about New York. At one point her hands were cold so we stopped in the street and I was putting my gloves on her, over her ski gloves and laughing as I did it. A man on the street casually glanced at me as I laughed and tried to stuff my gloves over hers. She became so fearful of him as he came toward us that she became frantic. It broke my heart. During that trip there were many times she was afraid of other people. We Americans don’t know that type of fear. And when we do we need to nip it in the bud fast.

Yesterday I left Pass Christian, Ms. to come up to Nashville. On the road all day  I met and rode with Dennis Gaugler from Pa. He’s part of the oldest motorcycle club in America. The Reading Motorcycle Club from Oley Pennsylvania. Pete Howard from Alabama joined us for a few miles. Donald Powers from Mississippi who was just out to have a meal in New Orleans and then back home, chatted me up. Jim Fox and Donovan Anderson let me sit on their huge bike. I don’t know what it was but I could have built a house on the thing.

The day was full of the typical roadside meetings that bikers have. They check out each others rides, chat about places they’ve been, roads they’ve traveled, people they’ve met and there’s always the;” Well, if you’re going there go visit my friend so and so!”

And the six degrees of seperation gets smaller. Yeah it was a great day!

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Guthrie Oklahoma

Oklahoma is an interesting place. I spent a few days in and around Guthrie OK. Every one here knows the history of everything. The fact that the state capital used to be Guthrie. How the state seal was smuggled out over night. The Tom Mix story, the whore house’s, the gun fighters and saloons. I love it all. I have touched the medicine bottles and tools in an old pharmacy that hasn’t changes in more than a hundred years. For all the flack we Americans get about our history and how we actually have none, I beg to differ! The stories are made and told here every moment of every day and they are all exciting! Each town I visit, each old man or young woman I have coffee with has it down. I love American stories told by American people with pride. Cowboy, Indian, Saloon Halls, Covered Wagons, Gun Fights, Revenuers and Moon Shiners are all a part of the history here. I spoke to a man who’s father was gunned down by a revenuer and saw the picture of his father. Pictures of dead outlaws still sit in the windows of this cowboy town. The soda fountain in the pharmacy is still selling ice cream soda’s. And every person here is related to one of those outlaws, saloon girls, gun fighters etc. Ahhhhh there is so much and I could eat it up!! The people are generous of spirit here! As is usual in small town America. Hugs and laughs flow freely. I grew up on military bases but I have to say I fall in love with every small town I come to and Guthrie, Oklahoma is no exception!

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I’m Freeee

The great thing about riding a motorcycle around the country is that if you get the urge to do anything…you can stop and do it! I was in the desert, felt like running naked through the desert so I did. I was riding down the road, saw all these beautiful flowers covering the desert floor and wanted to roll in them so I did. I stopped to take a turtle off the road before he got squashed! I danced around in the cow pasture because I was feeling freeeeeeee!! I took a nap on top of my motorcycle, parked at a shady rest stop and I chatted up every cute sheriff in a cowboy hat I could find. WOW are Texas Rangers hot!!! mmmmpurrrrr!

Today I stopped at Bob Kays “A Biker Garage” in Roanoak Texas, (Dallas/Ft. Worth area). It took them an hour to do a 21 point check-up on my bike. They were happy to see me! I was happy to see them! Bob Kay has his own line of leathers called Torian Leathers. Being a connoisseur of fine leather apparel, especially riding apparel….. I have to say; I have not seen a better jacket, better pair of chaps or a better leather shirt than Torian Leathers!

Why don’t other riding apparel manufacturers consider the rider when they build a jacket or chaps?I DON’T KNOW! But Bob Kay knows that we need many secure pockets, jackets that are strong and yet don’t take a year to break in and they need to be fitted so I “look” hot all the time instead of being hot. Because when I’m on the road I wear long underwear, flannel lined jeans and chaps on the bottom. A kidney belt, long underwear, a turtle neck, a long sleeved t-shirt and a large jacket on top. I am layered to death. Sunday rides I’m not so dramatic but for the cold mornings, hot days, chilly nights and the stuff constantly being kicked up from the road I need protection.

He also understands that standing on the side of the road, bent over, trying to get the zipper pulled up on my chaps is just an invitation for trouble. And for you guys maybe not so much trouble unless Bubba is out on parole! His chaps are step in, large pocketed, zip down from the hip chaps. They are cute and are designed like blue jeans (black blue jeans of course) . And his kidney belt is tough enough to hold your guts in after a ten hour ride but you can bend over and retrieve something from your saddlebags without having to snap it loose. Man I sound like a leather commercial but…..Why have I not seen these anywhere else? Probably for the same reason I can’t lane split anywhere else but California. Or that the birth control sponge was taken off the market. Or that the right to carry a gun on your hip or even mention the word gun is outlawed in New York. All the ideas that work, are practical and actually take “me” and what I need into account are just not allowed! If it feels good, works well and prevents road rage which I can assure you all of the three above do…..well then you know it is either outlawed or taken off the market.

Oddly enough I can roll around in the flowers on the freeway and the Texas Rangers barely give me a glance. But try to buy a birth control sponge and they will be all over me. And not in a good way. On the other hand….

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Texas

At gas stops people approach me to ask questions. Yesterday I spoke with so many Texans. I used to be afraid of Texas; the whole Texas chainsaw movies and the murdered women of Juarez was my paradigm of Texas. I don’t feel unsafe though. There are Border Patrol everywhere and the Texas state troopers are totally hot. Uniforms, cowboy hats and they are all good-looking and in shape. If I had the time I’d be speeding and trying to get them to pull me over just so I could get frisked!

OK back to reality!

Texas is LARGE! Good God is Texas large! Yesterday, I moved from desert and beautiful mountains to grasslands. I rode until way after dark, so I can’t tell you what the landscape is like until I get out there this morning. In Midland Texas, The cold air stopped and became very warm and smelled of petroleum as I rode past.

Texas people are warm and curious. Ramon who did not speak a word of English and had me write numbers on his hand with a pen so he could understand how many miles I am riding, didn’t let the language barrier interfere with his curiosity. The little children ask,  Are you a cowboy? When I ask for directions or information every cowboy in the room peeps in with an observation or more information. And they hold the door for me. I love men who open doors for me. Women’s lib be damned but I enjoy Southern manners and Texans have them.

From Texas gas stops so far I have been blessed to meet three Tuskegee airmen who were there to receive an award at a local base. They were quite aged but kind and generous with their time and my questions. I was honored to meet them, blessed really. I ran into Doc from the “Soul Brother of Las Vegas” at a gas stop. Amanda and Rhonda in Pecos, Cynthia a postal worker who rides a fat boy. Alonzo who is contemplating a chopper in El Paso, Border Patrol agents who all say they ride, a cute 3-year-old boy who wanted to know about my bike and his grandfather who answered all the questions put before me. A woman in Pecos offered to call her Texas Sheriff guy pals so I could get an up close encounter with them. She said I would just die over these guys! Damn if I had more time!!!

As I ride, I’m in my own little world and I think about my life.  I try to stay in the moment so I won’t miss anything but then after a few miles I’m back in dream land. The miles fly past. I love to ride! I love this time alone to get to know myself again. The world gets so noisy sometimes but once I’m on my bike I feel more at peace. Oddly for all the people I know I spend most of my time riding alone. Actually I’m single and have been always so I spend most of my time alone anyhow.

Independent women aren’t really the women of choice for most men. No matter what they say. I feel like more of a curiosity than anything else. recently I met up with a man I have loved forever. Just for coffee after years of being apart. He said he tried to find me after it ended with us. He said, I scared him. I still scare him.

I can’t tell you how often I have heard that word. I even wrote a poem about it once.

YOU SCARE ME

“YOU SCARE ME”, IS MY KEY PHRASE

YES, I’VE HEARD IT BEFORE

MICHAEL SAID IT TO ME

AS HE HEADED FOR THE DOOR

“YOU SCARE ME”, IT’S A RED FLAG

BUT I DON’T UNDERSTAND

I KNOW IT SORT OF MEANS

YOU DON’T WANT TO BE MY MAN

SOME GIRLS GET “I HATE YOU”

SOME GET “YOU’RE A BITCH!”

I JUST GET “YOU SCARE ME”

RIGHT BEFORE I’M DITCHED

BUT MEN, THEY COME WITH PROBLEMS

GIRLFRIENDS AND EX-WIVES

I SHOULD BE THE ONE WHO’S SCARED

AND RUNNING FOR MY LIFE

I’M SORRY IF I SCARE YOU

I’D CHANGE IT IF I COULD

BUT THESE THREE WORDS MEAN NOTHING

THEY’RE NOT EASILY UNDERSTOOD

SO COME ON…LET ME SCARE YOU

SHOW ME WHAT YOU’RE MADE OF

WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I’D WANT A MAN

WHO’S EASILY SCARED, TO LOVE

Anyhow, today I will be in Dallas at Bob Kay’s Biker Garage. I’ll see you there.

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Monkeys

My friend Ruth says if you stand in the sun naked for 20 minutes a day, you will feel amazing. So…naked in the desert, alone with the rabbits and birds….I feel amazing! Last night we all went to dinner with Eric Herrmann. He is a straight talking, straight to the point, no bullshit kind of guy. He is also a big softy! Last night I said, Eric you are a lovely lovely man for putting up with us. He said “WHAT did you call me? OH NO NO NO don’t you dare call me that.

So to everybody who doesn’t know him… Eric Herrmann is an asshole! Mean, tough, super biker asshole!

Cave Creek is a step back into the past. An old mining town full of an eclectic crowd with eccentric personality’s who have run away from the big city’s. They are not small town by any means. They are open comfortable with themselves and all artists in their own right. I met a stone carver, military veteran who makes the most beautiful flower carvings out of stone. Bard who does a rendition of the “Ghost of Gen. Patton” and did it for me in the parking lot! The ex-mayor of Cave Creek. A beautiful boy in a rock band and a cowboy all in the same coffee clatch.

The city dump is a very strange store with everything weird inside. Three wooden monkeys wearing bunny masks sit on the roof. A carved buffalo and a bear met me at the door. There are Masai wedding necklaces mixed with mexican art mixed with angels yada yada yada. The guy at the register is just as interesting as his store.

Cave Creek Coffee Co – called 4c by the locals is THE coffee and internet place! OK Got to go my butt is burning!

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Eric Herrman

4/4

Last night at midnight a man, Eric Herrman arrived with his truck and we pushed the camera bike into the back. I followed them back to Eric’s house near a small mountain town of Cave Creek. I could smell that we were going into the mountains although I couldn’t actually see it. And burrrrr was it cold, I was dressed for the desert.

This morning I woke up on the floor of the art gallery of Eric Herrman. Too funny. Eric Herrman the famous motorcycle artist. I’ve seen his art for years, I know these pictures hanging all around me. Except these pictures are the originals.

Eric’s wife Susan made coffee and we chatted this morning; we were born just a few miles apart in South Dakota and are both Air Force brats so we had a lot to talk about.

The camera bike is going to need a primary belt so we are having one brought in. I’m going to explore Cave Creek today. It looked to be a cowboy or mining town as I passed through it last night. I missed the run for the downed bikers but I plan to visit the sight of the accident that took so many biker lives last week here in Phoenix.  I can only think that God called them all home because he has an important mission he needs them for.

There is no phone or internet service up here so I need to post my blog and tweets and buzzes and yadayadayada down below too. lol

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