Pushing Up DaiZy

This report is gonna happen just like the ride. I'm gonna steal a some hours from the world and hammer it out as fast as I can to minimize the chance I'll be missed by my dependants. So here I sit in my clutter shop. I got a fresh pot of strong, black coffee, a half-rack of horse-piss beer, and the laptop plugged in. I just hit shuffle on the CD changer and Canned Heat's Going Up the Country is dancing through the baby-monitor static. That dood kinda sounds like g-pupette sighing... oh... I guess that was her.

Here's my dilemma. I got no time. I ain't whining. You all know the story. I just want to excuse myself from the array of typos, misspellings, fractured sentences, and incomplete thoughts which have already begun to assail my humble ride report. I got no time to tell the story properly (Hell, I've barely even looked at my own pictures from the trip), and for me, as you well know, it's all about the story.

So without futher delay I shall begin my tale of Pushing Up DaiZy. Your patience will be appreciated.

yuppin yiminny let's go flounder get on with it

Hey, at least I'm not the only one up this late (1:30 in Tejas) but I'm a bit miffed about the beer, as I'm on the clock, and you don't have any pics up yet?? Bored, it's a slow night, so ya' better get crackin!

Howdy Mack. Man, I've been meaning to give you a yell since I first saw your location. Seems like you and I just swapped places. I'm from Austin now in Oregon. Man I love Austin. I'm sittin' beneath a stolen Austin City Limit sign as I type. Sorry you're bored. Read this - here - while you wait. Not many pics, but it'll set you up for this report.

Dayum four posts in and still no report. Next thing ya know he's going to intro with. "For me motorcycling is an expression of self as well as a means of transportation. I find freedom in riding and each ride is a new experience a new dream a new yada yada yada..." Get on with it.

Jurgen

This story begins with my first ride report, retro-ride report actually, Retro Ride I - Greyhounds, Grey Daze, and Grace of God. This is a report I wrote because raindog asked me to. I'd just met him for the first time at Road Rash's first PNW Gathering. I was still very new to ADVrider. I had never met any inmates. I didn't even own a bike. But it seems my bike story of ol' moved someone. Despite my direct request not to, raindog rallied the troops to buy me the fabled Pinki.



And though dozens of riders pitched in to make The Big JoMommathon Happiness Tour happen, it was Team Dennis who stepped up to buy me the bike. Now you have to understand something about the man that is Team Dennis. Shortly after he purchased the Pinki I did my best to thank him in an all to long and strenuously eloquent PM. He replied back with a simple "You're welcome." Nothing more. "Shit, that is cool." I thought. So I made up a Free Mulekick T-Shirt just for him and PM'd him with the news and asked for his address to send it to him. He never replied. "Damn. How am I gonna feel like I've given this guy a proper thank you?" Now if you're guessing that I bought this bike from Team Dennis only because I thought I owed him something, you're wrong. Very wrong. Team Dennis is a man of dignity and honor. And as I came to understand that I let go of the nagging feeling I had to pay him back. He gave me the bike as a truly honorable man does. He expected nothing in return. I was only glad I happened to find the right bike with Team Dennis because for me working, sacrificing, and struggling to make your own ride is honorable. The fact that I was finally buying my own ride from Dennis was just poetry. It's a cool story.

Team Dennis and the horse I rode out on.

Jurgs

Because Jurgen is hungry and cranky, I won't go into the sordid tale of raising the funds to buy this beauty. Nor will I bore you all with the reasons I needed this particular type of motorcyle, or the hoops I had to jump through to work it into my schedule.

Cutting to the chase. So it turns out my brother wants to fly my family out to his place in Logan, UT for a mini family gathering. I see my opportunity, and book round trip tickets to Salt Lake for my wife and the pups. I buy a one way ticket to Phoenix. The plan is to fly into Phoenix, bum a ride to Prescott, pick up the bike, and haul ass to hang with the family in Logan. Turns out all my AZ family were in CA doing their own family gathering thing so I turned to Jo Momma for a lift - Gravity's Yellow Dog Shuffle Begins. And in true Jo Momma fashion I get PM's from more than enough AZ bruddas. Foogin' JKam was ready ta haul my sorry butt out on the back of his Wee Strom. But luck Yeti Man was the first to step up (his poem will be forth coming), and soon my logistics were set.

The Gravity Pack packed up, and took off to spend Monday night in Portland for our early morning flight on Tuesday.

Ready for adventure.




We did a little present shopping in Portland.




We grabbed a bite at the Olive Garden near our hotel 'cause it was open. But the little jaunt did provide a nice pic.




I spent the rest of the night explaining that I was going away for a few dase to the pupette. She didn't seem to care.




g-pup was busy pulling a loaded in our hotel room.

g-pup is still asking why we wouldn't let him put the pupette through the x-ray machine with our carry-ons.




We all made it to Salt Lake where I gave my good-bye kisses, promised I'd be safe, and bolted to my flight to Phoenix. I was slipping into wander mode. I started to get those pre-big-ride jitters. "WTF do I think I'm doing?" I ran through my equipment list over and over, which turned out to be pretty boring because this is it in it's entirity -

1 Camelbak (blowfish model purchased the night before)
Another Camelbak-type bladder for the rear vent of my jacket
1 Safety vest (purchased the day before 'cause I got kids)
1 2pc 'stich (pants in the Camelbak, wearing the jacket)
2 bandanas (1 Texas flag, 1 tye-dye)
Boots (wearing 'em)
Camera
Sunglasses (wearing 'em)
Gloves
Sunscreen (in a pink Barbie tube)
Eyedrops
Toothbrush
Mouthwash
More ear-plugs than I'd ever need ( mutineer)
Cell phone
$45
Gas card
Longhorns cap
Pen and paper
2 Free Mulekick shirts (for Yeti Man and Team Dennis)
2 Brass Balls
.5 Brain

Dennis said he'd gimme a helmet when I got there.

I was ready.

I spent most of the flight looking out the window imagining what it was gonna be like to ride back across the landscape. It looked hot. Especially the fires. :eek1



I had no foogin' idea.

By the time I landed in Phoenix I was thoroughly convinced I'd screwed up real bad. WTF was I thinking? I was about to ride a 400cc, knobbie-tired dirtbike I'd never seen, in a helmet I'd never worn, on mostly interstates, for 1400 miles. I kept trying to convince myself I was ready for this. Hell, I've done it before... 7 foogin' years ago on a touring bike with all the right gear and lotsa time. :eek1 Since then I'd only pulled 80 mile trips on the Pinki... and I'd only had her for 6 months. Holy crap. I'm dead. I'm gonna wither and die in the desert sun. I'm gonna get blown off the road by a truck. I'm gonna buzz my brain outta my head, cripple my legs, and blister my butt. I wondered how much a plane ticket back to Salt Lake would be.

As I got off the plane in Phoenix I braced for the opening-an-oven-door like heat that would be the end of me. It was a cool 98 degrees. Hell, 98? I can do that... but I was still gonna get killed by a semi.

I walked out to the pick-up curb and gave Yeti Man a call trying to surpress the quivering fear in my voice. I'm not sure what I said, but I wanted to say, "Hey Yeti, I think I've made a big mistake. I'm scared. I think I'm just gonna fly home. Thanks anyway."

His excited voice shot back, "Cool Gravity, hang on. I'll be there in 5."

"Fuckin' A. I'm gonna do this."

I waited for a friend I'd never seen to give me the lift that would save me.

I thought you were married with children?

Jurgen

Wait 'til ya hear how I fell for Yeti Man.


Yer gonna be jealous.

The ride with Yeti Man from the Phoenix airport out to Team Dennis' place in Prescott was a pivitol point in my journey. Here is what I got from the ride, and it was about far more than motorcylce trips.

"We are all the same."

Yeti Man said this over and over in reference to the ADVrider community. He was usually making the point that despite our differences, we all share a certain, almost intangible bond based in a love of adventure... of life. The bond may involve motorcylces, but it goes far deeper than that. If I had to give it a phrase, it would be a passion for living.

There I was, sharing a truck cab with a man I didn't know outside of a few internet posts, and it was like running up the road with a brother. He bolstered my confidence with his stories of going the distance on his bikes. We talked about our business ventures, and he offered up amazing insights. He glowed when he talked about his family. He intrigued me with his tales of international shooting competitions and familial sword-play. I quickly forgot the fact I was pissing-my-pants scared about the ride, and laughed at the stories.

We both noticed a nice photo op, and he swung the truck around to go back for it.




The small group of doods hangin' in front of the dealership puzzled at our salutes. As we pull away Yeti says, "They wouldn't understand. It's a biker thing."

Fuckin' Yeti Man.

I was now ready ride.

No offense (and I'm sure most of you who've met fellow ADVriders have experienced the same thing) but actually meeting an ADV persona is usually a let down. I'm sure Yeti Man drove away thinking, "That was G-Dog?? WTF?? I thought he was supposed to be cool or somethin'."

As it turns out, most of us are pretty normal, unassuming doods. That can come as a shock if, like me, you build up someone's internet persona in your head until an actual meat-space meeting can only be a let down. This is part of the reason I never want to meet snoid. He is my anti-hero, and I'm afraid he's pretty much a regular guy. I even hung up on him 'cause I love him. Chopperman is one who out-classed my expectations. Team Dennis is the other.

Dennis has got this Tao of Steve thing goin' that humbled me to the point of rushing my way outta his garage. Granted I was only at his place for about an hour, but everything about him gave the impression of having it together. His garage is magazine-perfect. His house is immaculate. His family is low-key and cool to the point of being scary and welcoming at the same time. And there I was floundering through on some wild-ass venture that was prolly gonna get me dead. I felt like Potsie hangin' with The Fonz. And the whole time I knew he'd make sure I was well taken care of.

"Are you gonna stay the night?"

"Ya need ice?"

Even the way he gave me directions outta there made me feel welcome.

Someday, when I grow up, I wanna be just like Team Dennis.




I coulda carried this home in my pocket... if I was as stoopid as ilmostro.




Yeah, if you've got a baby like this in the bedroom, you're a badass.




So I loaded up with ice, Dennis sprayed me down with the garden hose, and I was gone.

Ride on.

Get on with it.....

Few things are more exhilarating than embarking on a big ride into the unknown. Combine that with a frantic shuffle of a seemingly overwhelming pile of dodged responsibilities, an abbreviated travel schedule, a totally unfamiliar bike and gear, and an overload of adrenaline, and it's a wonder I made it out of Team Dennis' driveway, let alone 10 miles down the road where I stopped at a Chevron to collect my wits.

This was the first of what proved to be far too many fiddle-stops where I would dink around with the bike like I didn't have a schedule to keep. I didn't need gas so I filled up. I didn't have a map so I bought an atlas. I figured out the RID on the bike, set the trip odometers, drank a Pepsi, played with the switch-gear, kicked the tires, rearranged my inadequate gear about 20 times, and plotted my route. It wasn't that hot. It wasn't that far. It wasn't that uncomfortable on the bike. This was gonna be easy. So I dinked around a little (OK, a lot) more. I took about 30 pictures that looked exactly like this -




Well almost exactly like that. In other pics the shadows have moved significantly. If I'd been in a right travelin' mind, this would have concerned me. But at that moment, I had no where to be but with the bike and on the road. I thought this everytime I stopped. This will not be a story about making miles. This is just about getting my bike home... and this is where I started going home.

A few miles down the road I stopped again and went through the same routine.




Each time I stopped I tried to convince myself I was just getting ready to go long. Each time I started I found myself thinking I had something to do at the side of the road. Usually I wasn't stopping because I'd had enough of the road. I only did that twice, as you shall see. I was stopping because I hadn't had enough of the experience. I was wandering, and I wanted to feel like it.

I'd play with the petcock, and rearrange my gear, and switch the lights on and off in every possible configuration, suck down some water, and eventually I'd notice the waning sun and the road would pull me on. Each time starting with the intent to go long, but knowing the world would soon seduce me to the shoulder for another moment of experience.

Crap!
I got up to take a piss now I'm making coffee so I can read this story.



Mornin' Gdog!

After I wrote my Retro Ride Report I sent it to a friend. He was my 10th grade English teacher. I later taught with him. Among his comments on the story was one regarding a reference I made to a poster in his classroom - here.

“Sometimes I sits and thinks. Sometimes I just sits.”

It is one of the most valuable lessons I have ever learned.

Crap! Now I gotta keep writing.

Mornin' goonie.