The Freak Out

Getting Nervous
Ok, so maybe it's
A) the triple espresso I had earlier;
B) the realization that 4,000 miles is a LONG way and the last time I drove over 400 miles I had to lip sync to Michael Jackson's "Can't Stop 'til You Get Enough" to keep myself awake; or,
C) the advice from my friend Bill: "make sure you keep food in your breast pocket so when you crash and get pinned, you will have something to snack on until someone finds you,"
but my stomach is in knots. I need to go run 5 miles in sand, squeeze fruit in the produce aisle, or gnaw on on a log. I'm jittery and restless.
"This is supposed to be exciting," I tell myself. Why do I freak myself out? Why am I spending 3-4 hours a night in a state of half-sleep delirium and find notes on my phone in the morning that say "fill the house with pork and chocolate?" Why is my stomach making noises that I've only heard elsewhere uttered from the cartoon character Scooby Doo? Why can I only manage to eat one taco and coffee all day? 

A Little Perspective
In the middle of a freak-out session in the car today, I was sitting at a stop light, going through the to-do list on my phone and worrying about bringing extra fuses or some such detail. A man with no legs wheeled his way across the intersection, nearly missing potholes and crazy ass Texas truck drivers, and I realized that all I need is some good old fashioned perspective. I'm worrying about the particulars of a motorcycle trip while other people are trying to bring home a gallon of milk without finding their way under a Dodge Ram 1500 Truck, Lone Star Edition. I have yet to figure out what "Lone Star Edition" means, other than a propensity to drive like an asshole and park on sidewalks...but I digress. So, opening your eyes to the people around you or reading the world news is like going to group therapy for addicts--you will realize how much worse off you could be. Perspective. Try it. Start counting your good fortunes instead of your problems. It makes all the difference.

Things could always be worse

My friend asked me last week "What's the worst that could happen?" to which I replied pessimistically "Get in a wreck and die." His reply: "oh.....................well, at least you would be out enjoying yourself." He's right. Every day, we put ourselves at risk. Riding a motorcycle across the country is, without a doubt, more risky than staying home. But the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing...to wonder what it might have been like. The seed has been planted--it has to happen. I think back quite a bit about how I gave an ex so much shit about doing a similar trip and I feel like such an ass about it now. I didn't understand. Again...perspective is key.

Luckily for me, my approach to "the limit" is to eke toward it with minutely small increments of risk and push boundaries tenderly, as opposed to the approach of pushing way past the limit and looking back (if still alive) to realize where the limit was. I am the proverbial toe-dipping water temp tester at the pool. That's probably why I'm treating this trip with such trepidation. That, and a lack of testosterone--the stuff is poison.
The fear I feel is the same kind I have felt in a third world country: the feeling that nobody is watching my back, that I have to keep my senses on high alert, that I need to rely on my gut and my wit to keep me from getting knocked off this big blue marble. I've just got to go with it. The trip is not going to be perfectly executed. It is important to recognize when "good enough" is enough.

Reunited Soon...
The bike will be returned to me tomorrow and I can't wait until baby is back in mama's arms. I would have had it sooner, but there was some mystery smoke issue to be resolved. I am hoping that the smoke is just the ghost of future adventure and mystical fire instead of the ghost of maintenance past. I'll see if I can strap all of my crap onto it.
I am bummed out that my friend Cory is not going to be able to make it, but he did send his GoPro camera in his absence. It's a sorry replacement for having him along, but it's still better than a kick in the face.


The Pannier Dilemma
There have been issues with the BMW hard bag locks. I don't want to talk about it yet. It's too soon. I'm still getting over it. The solution: locking tie-down straps. They are like regular ratchet straps but the ratchet part locks and there is a cable inside the nylon to make it harder to cut. It is not an elegant solution, but it will keep the bags on the bike and it will keep curious hands out of my toiletries while I go take a photo of myself in front of the world's largest artichoke

Locking tie-down strap. Neat-o