PENNSYLVANIA: APRIL 8
Forgive me for writing further of danger and truck drivers. My friends in Dallas judged my journey mad or suicidal. They warned of Mexican drivers, of crooked cops and crooked border officials. Mexicans in Veracruz added bandits to their warnings. So I progressed, country to country, each peopled by homicidal truck drivers, vicious terrorists and equally murderous bandits. Chance acquaintances expressed amazement at my survival.
I encountered only kindness.
On occasion, arrogance made me resent the kindness...As with cops in Peru.
I crossed the desert in Peru in a sandstorm. Cops stopped me every twenty kilometres.
“Hey, grandfather, are you okay?”
They were nurse-maiding me.
Me! A survivor of ambushes in the Ogaden, of Russian gunships in Afghanistan.
I felt belittled.
I stopped for lunch at a truck and coach halt and chatted half an hour with the waitresses. Two cops ate at a table against the far wall. They departed. I asked for my bill. The cops had paid. This Blog is my Thank you to the Peruvian police.
And yet, there is a downside.
All drivers in Venezuela are insane.
Most truck drivers in Argentina are bully boys.
Bikers, avoid Venezuela. In Argentina, ride with care.
Saturday, August 02, 2008
PAN-AMERICAN HIGHWAY IS A STEEPLECHASE
PENNSYLVANNIA: APRIL 8
A massive trailer truck smashed me from the rear in Tierra del Fuego. The accident has left me wary. I fancy myself an expert on truck drivers. Mexicans are the most humane. See a small bike on the road and Mexican truck drivers pull wide. They salute on the klaxon, wave. Peruvians and the drivers of Ecuador are equally friendly. Meet them and they say Hi with a flash of headlights. I write here of drivers away from the Pan-American Highway. The Pan-American is a high-speed steeplechase track. National borders are the obstacles. Trucks queue for hours, sometimes days. Frustration seeds hostility. Keep your distance...
A massive trailer truck smashed me from the rear in Tierra del Fuego. The accident has left me wary. I fancy myself an expert on truck drivers. Mexicans are the most humane. See a small bike on the road and Mexican truck drivers pull wide. They salute on the klaxon, wave. Peruvians and the drivers of Ecuador are equally friendly. Meet them and they say Hi with a flash of headlights. I write here of drivers away from the Pan-American Highway. The Pan-American is a high-speed steeplechase track. National borders are the obstacles. Trucks queue for hours, sometimes days. Frustration seeds hostility. Keep your distance...
A BUG WITHOUT A BITE
PENNSYLVANIA: APRIL 8
I ride a short stretch north from Harrisburg before turning westward through the Pennsylvania valleys on route 209. Massive trucks roar passed on the Interstate. The trucks strike me as symbolic of US power, blunt, heavy, rowdy, chrome-flashy and with no use nor need for subtlety. Air is the enemy. Ram it out of the way. Engine thunder engulfs us. Massive tyres add their own roar. The bike and I shudder under the onslaught. I shrink onto the gas tank and struggle to steady the bike against the slipstream. Here comes the next and the next...In passing, they give me the space prescribed in the Highway code. No more, no less...and no communication. My bike is too small for this land of giants. I am unimportant, a harmless bug.
I ride a short stretch north from Harrisburg before turning westward through the Pennsylvania valleys on route 209. Massive trucks roar passed on the Interstate. The trucks strike me as symbolic of US power, blunt, heavy, rowdy, chrome-flashy and with no use nor need for subtlety. Air is the enemy. Ram it out of the way. Engine thunder engulfs us. Massive tyres add their own roar. The bike and I shudder under the onslaught. I shrink onto the gas tank and struggle to steady the bike against the slipstream. Here comes the next and the next...In passing, they give me the space prescribed in the Highway code. No more, no less...and no communication. My bike is too small for this land of giants. I am unimportant, a harmless bug.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
CAN I MAKE IT TODAY?
ROUTE 209: APRIL 8
I speed (potter|) north through Harrisburg before turning East onto Route 209. 209 will take me through the Pennsylvania Valleys to Kingston, New York. Cross the bridge over the Hudson, ride through Millbrook and Pine Plains, turn left onto Johnny Cake Hollow and right up the track to Duchess Views Farm and the Metropolitan Stud. I shall hug my daughter, admire my new grandson, park the Honda in the stables – Bliss. How far? 270 miles. Can I make it today? Maybe...
I speed (potter|) north through Harrisburg before turning East onto Route 209. 209 will take me through the Pennsylvania Valleys to Kingston, New York. Cross the bridge over the Hudson, ride through Millbrook and Pine Plains, turn left onto Johnny Cake Hollow and right up the track to Duchess Views Farm and the Metropolitan Stud. I shall hug my daughter, admire my new grandson, park the Honda in the stables – Bliss. How far? 270 miles. Can I make it today? Maybe...
THE LAND OF THE FREE
GETTYSBURG: APRIL 8
Road signs point back into recent history: Harpers Ferry, Gettysburg; signposts, in the Land of the Free, to a war in defense of the rights of gallant slave-owning Southern gentlemen. Perhaps I am obsessive. However, I repeat accusations made by so many Hispanic Americans met on this journey.
Spain is the historic evil taught to white Protestant Anglo Saxon England and the United States: Spain, Catholicism and the Inquisition.
The first laws in defense of the freedom of the native population were promulgated in Spain by Charles v in the 16th century ('New Laws' 1542,43,44).
US President Andrew Jackson ordered the clearing by force of the native population from its lands in the 19th century (Removal Act, 1830).
Evil knows no monopoly.
Road signs point back into recent history: Harpers Ferry, Gettysburg; signposts, in the Land of the Free, to a war in defense of the rights of gallant slave-owning Southern gentlemen. Perhaps I am obsessive. However, I repeat accusations made by so many Hispanic Americans met on this journey.
Spain is the historic evil taught to white Protestant Anglo Saxon England and the United States: Spain, Catholicism and the Inquisition.
The first laws in defense of the freedom of the native population were promulgated in Spain by Charles v in the 16th century ('New Laws' 1542,43,44).
US President Andrew Jackson ordered the clearing by force of the native population from its lands in the 19th century (Removal Act, 1830).
Evil knows no monopoly.
SCAREDY CAT
AND ONWARD: APRIL 8
I traveled deserts in my youth, was shot at, broke free of ambushes. In my thirties I rode trucks the length and breadth of the Indian subcontinent and, in later years, drove and rode horseback across much of Afghanistan, hid from Russian gun ships, mislaid my false teeth in a mountain stream. Now I am old – and a scaredy cat. Or grown more sensible? Washington DC can wait. I crossed the Appalachians on Route 211. I bypass Washington on Route 15 to Harrisburg and head for safety.
MEMORIALS ARE EPILOGUES
ONWARD: APRIL 8
Is my head cold responsible for my dark mood? Or my fear of riding through DC?
I feel vulnerable.
I imagine DC as a city to which wise people travel by train or plane. They take cabs to their hotel or to friends' homes. They venture forth by cab or with a guide.
I have a young friend in DC, Elizabeth Bergner. We met this trip in Cartagena, Colombia. Elizabeth is making a career change. She shares a house with the like-minded, mostly met on her travels. I would enjoy listening to their experiences and to their opinions. Sadly, Elizabeth is away at a wedding.
And the Vietnam War Memorial would be out of place at this point in my journal. Memorials are epilogues...
Is my head cold responsible for my dark mood? Or my fear of riding through DC?
I feel vulnerable.
I imagine DC as a city to which wise people travel by train or plane. They take cabs to their hotel or to friends' homes. They venture forth by cab or with a guide.
I have a young friend in DC, Elizabeth Bergner. We met this trip in Cartagena, Colombia. Elizabeth is making a career change. She shares a house with the like-minded, mostly met on her travels. I would enjoy listening to their experiences and to their opinions. Sadly, Elizabeth is away at a wedding.
And the Vietnam War Memorial would be out of place at this point in my journal. Memorials are epilogues...
GONE WITH THE WIND
DILEMMA TERRITORY: APRIL 8
A pale sun shines upon a vast territory of gated communities and country clubs. The cold front hasn't yet hit. I weep with a head cold. Sneezing fogs my spectacles. Signs point to Monticello – slavery as romantic, all those loyal darkies, Gone With The Wind...
A pale sun shines upon a vast territory of gated communities and country clubs. The cold front hasn't yet hit. I weep with a head cold. Sneezing fogs my spectacles. Signs point to Monticello – slavery as romantic, all those loyal darkies, Gone With The Wind...
REAP AND WEEP
ROAD TO WASHINGTON, DC: APRIL 8
I am finally north of the Appalachians. Washington, DC, is a rock thrown into a vast economic puddle. Ripples flow outward. White clapboard houses are bigger, better maintained. Mercedes, BMWs and Porches are common as flies on a Third World butcher's slab. I catch glimpses of red brick mansions sheltered by parkland. Riding stables abound, paddocks protected by white picket fences. Horses are as plentiful as hand guns and bare the same romantic mystique. I am crossing the political heartland of the Land of the Free whose early heroic Presidents, General George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, were slave owners.
The slaves have rebelled.
Reap and weep.
Or move to the suburbs and gated communities...
Monday, July 28, 2008
ANXIETY ATTACK
ON THE ROAD: APRIL 8
I have been riding and cogitating. I checked the chain before leaving the Ramada Inn. It is very slack and I am a little anxious – and nervous - not only regarding the chain. I have survived the cities of Hispanic America without mishap. I understand Hispanic American cities. I am sensitive to invisible frontiers that divide safe from dangerous – and moderately safe from terrifying.
Washington, DC, is an unknown. However, shootings-for-sport and carjackings are frequent – so the media reports - and I don't have a city map...Though city maps aren't marked with safety zones.
Jim Donovan visited on his Harley and had police warn him that he had taken a wrong turn, was in the wrong area and should get the hell out fast.
The Honda won't do fast.
I wish to see the Vietnam War Memorial.
I don't feel in immediate need of a personal memorial.
And I am running short of funds.
I have been riding and cogitating. I checked the chain before leaving the Ramada Inn. It is very slack and I am a little anxious – and nervous - not only regarding the chain. I have survived the cities of Hispanic America without mishap. I understand Hispanic American cities. I am sensitive to invisible frontiers that divide safe from dangerous – and moderately safe from terrifying.
Washington, DC, is an unknown. However, shootings-for-sport and carjackings are frequent – so the media reports - and I don't have a city map...Though city maps aren't marked with safety zones.
Jim Donovan visited on his Harley and had police warn him that he had taken a wrong turn, was in the wrong area and should get the hell out fast.
The Honda won't do fast.
I wish to see the Vietnam War Memorial.
I don't feel in immediate need of a personal memorial.
And I am running short of funds.
NEARLY HOME
TOWARDS WASHINGTON, DC: APRIL 8
I leave the comforts of the Ramada Inn, Harrisonburg, soon after first light.
I ride the Interstate north towards Harrisburg. I am riding through a gently up-and-down horse country of green meadows, white fences and woods. The sun shines – less watery as the morning progresses. Washington, DC, is over to the West. I intend stopping a night in DC. I want to visit the Vietnam Memorial. I also want to be safe at my daughter's, to have this ride done with. To survive.
I leave the comforts of the Ramada Inn, Harrisonburg, soon after first light.
I ride the Interstate north towards Harrisburg. I am riding through a gently up-and-down horse country of green meadows, white fences and woods. The sun shines – less watery as the morning progresses. Washington, DC, is over to the West. I intend stopping a night in DC. I want to visit the Vietnam Memorial. I also want to be safe at my daughter's, to have this ride done with. To survive.
PRAWN DETOX
HARRISONBURG: APRIL 8
Evening: the wind has dropped. Rain continues. Tomorrow will be dry - and cold. I am suffering a head cold. I am scared that the infection will move down to my chest. I am scared of United States medical bills. So are most citizens of this country.
Should I hole up here in Harrisonburg until the cold front passes through?
Or should I make a dash for my daughter's in upstate New York?
Cogitating such weighty matters requires energy.
I call the Thai restaurant and order spicy prawns.
Eleven months on the road - I'll be in need of a prawn detox.
Evening: the wind has dropped. Rain continues. Tomorrow will be dry - and cold. I am suffering a head cold. I am scared that the infection will move down to my chest. I am scared of United States medical bills. So are most citizens of this country.
Should I hole up here in Harrisonburg until the cold front passes through?
Or should I make a dash for my daughter's in upstate New York?
Cogitating such weighty matters requires energy.
I call the Thai restaurant and order spicy prawns.
Eleven months on the road - I'll be in need of a prawn detox.
SENATOR OBAMA IS ELITIST
HARRISONBURG: APRIL 7
Wind and rain batter Harrisonburg, Virginia. I watch Primary Election coverage on TV. Both Senators Clinton and McCain attack Senator Obama for describing working class men of the Pennsylvania Valleys as bitter. According to Senator Obama the cause of their bitterness is the closure of the mills and mines in the Pennsylvania valleys. The men have lost their jobs. However, bitter is an insult, it is un-American. Describing the unemployed as bitter proves Senator Obama an elitist (according to Senators Clinton and McCain).
I am an outsider.
What would I know?
Wind and rain batter Harrisonburg, Virginia. I watch Primary Election coverage on TV. Both Senators Clinton and McCain attack Senator Obama for describing working class men of the Pennsylvania Valleys as bitter. According to Senator Obama the cause of their bitterness is the closure of the mills and mines in the Pennsylvania valleys. The men have lost their jobs. However, bitter is an insult, it is un-American. Describing the unemployed as bitter proves Senator Obama an elitist (according to Senators Clinton and McCain).
I am an outsider.
What would I know?
VILE WEATHER
HARRISONBURG, VIRGINIA: APRIL 7
Fierce squalls thrash rain against the windows of my room at the Ramada Inn. The Honda is parked outside between a massive RV and an equally massive double-cab pick-up truck. The Honda seems very small and somewhat bedraggled – even a mite reproachful. It is accustomed to overnighting in hotel lobbies and 17th century Spanish Colonial patios. The Ramada Inn is a come-down for a bike. The king size bed is a sybarite's delight.
I suffer a twinge of guilt – and worry that the Honda will avenge its self; worry that the chain won't hold up or that a worn tooth or teeth on the sprockets will offer insufficient purchase for the chain.
However, this is not a biker day. It is a day for catching up on correspondence and my journal, for planning the final stage of the ride and for watching the election reports on TV.
And for sprinting (slowly) for free breakfast across the parking lot to the main building.
Fierce squalls thrash rain against the windows of my room at the Ramada Inn. The Honda is parked outside between a massive RV and an equally massive double-cab pick-up truck. The Honda seems very small and somewhat bedraggled – even a mite reproachful. It is accustomed to overnighting in hotel lobbies and 17th century Spanish Colonial patios. The Ramada Inn is a come-down for a bike. The king size bed is a sybarite's delight.
I suffer a twinge of guilt – and worry that the Honda will avenge its self; worry that the chain won't hold up or that a worn tooth or teeth on the sprockets will offer insufficient purchase for the chain.
However, this is not a biker day. It is a day for catching up on correspondence and my journal, for planning the final stage of the ride and for watching the election reports on TV.
And for sprinting (slowly) for free breakfast across the parking lot to the main building.
WET CLOTHES AND HOT SHRIMP
HARRISONBURG: APRIL 6
Management, Reception and cleaners at the Ramada Inn, Harrisonburg, are Gujarati. I long for a curry made with fresh spices. I negotiate a small discount on the room rate. I have ridden through steady drizzle for the past three hours. Now the TV weather channel shows heavy rain moving southward towards Harrisonburg. Rain will be followed by a cold front. Is a cold front colder than the cold I have already suffered up on the Blue Ridge Parkway?
I strip, turn the heating up and drape wet clothes over chair backs and over the air conditioner. Bliss is basking in a hot bath and contemplating the menu of a newly opened Thai restaurant. Spicy shrimp with fresh coriander...
Management, Reception and cleaners at the Ramada Inn, Harrisonburg, are Gujarati. I long for a curry made with fresh spices. I negotiate a small discount on the room rate. I have ridden through steady drizzle for the past three hours. Now the TV weather channel shows heavy rain moving southward towards Harrisonburg. Rain will be followed by a cold front. Is a cold front colder than the cold I have already suffered up on the Blue Ridge Parkway?
I strip, turn the heating up and drape wet clothes over chair backs and over the air conditioner. Bliss is basking in a hot bath and contemplating the menu of a newly opened Thai restaurant. Spicy shrimp with fresh coriander...
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