A Loop Through the South

Yes, I’m still alive!  I just returned from a 5,100 mile, month-long, two-wheel loop through the south.  It’s too hard to write stories and post photos from my phone while on the road, so since I didn’t bring a laptop with me on this trip, the blog posts had to wait until I got home. 

Before I launch into a play-by-play of my trip, I want to take a moment to post about one of the most gratifying components of my travel – the people.  It’s a long read, but I hope it provides some context and insight into my life of travel.

I’m continually asked if I get lonely on my trips.  The short answer is “No.”  After a few nights on a crappy mattress however, I sometimes get lonely for my own bed 😊    

Old Mr. Webster has a few variants of the definition of lonely, but they all involve being without company, cut off from others, or feeling sad or bleak from being alone.  None of these conditions describe what I feel on the road.  Over the years, I’ve learned the value of becoming comfortable with myself, of being comfortable with the thoughts and memories that swirl about in my mind.  So, I have no sad or bleak feelings associated with my own company, I’ve made peace with myself over the years.  As for the being without company or feeling cut off from others, my interactions with others on the road is usually within my control.  The isolation, or crowdedness of the day’s route, the lodging option, even where I choose to gas up the bike or grab a bite to eat, is all determined by my desire for, or aversion to, interactions with others on that particular day and time.

To help illustrate the multitude of interactions on my trips, I’ll try to describe in this post just a few of the encounters from this last trip.  My long trip last summer helped me to give up on trying to achieve the most sightseeing miles I can between destinations and to work in a lot more buffer time to allow myself to linger over, and be present for, interesting conversations along the way.

There was the CVMA Charlie Mike event where I was surrounded with approximately 60 veteran sisters and brothers in the NC/TN mountains.  As previously posted HERE, I prefer smaller groups and tended to ride with just 3-5 people, but I had numerous interactions with many in the larger group as well as other guests and employees at the lodge.  I made several great connections during the extended weekend.

There was the older retiree from New England who had moved to South Carolina with his wife to escape the winters in their later life, and who worked part-time at the hotel at which I was staying, making breakfasts.  He said he didn’t really need the money, but since his wife had passed, he enjoyed the social interaction with travelers that came with the job.  I spent a very enjoyable breakfast chatting with him about our lives and which local attractions were the most underrated in his opinion.   A shared meal always leaves me feeling content and, as a bonus, I rode away with some great sightseeing recommendations!  

There was Troy and Bart, adventure riders doing the Smokey Mountains 500 that I met during a rest break in Georgia (previous post HERE).  They were full of amusing stories and just exuded joy for the adventure of two-wheel travel.  I lingered at that rest stop much longer than I had anticipated, swapping tales of riding mishaps and epic route stories, but it was worth every minute it put me behind schedule.

There was the restaurant owner in Mississippi who was so bemused by my motorcycle approach to the building (as observed through large front windows) and solo dining that he had to hear my story, and even sent over a free specialty dish for me to try.

There was the fellow rider from the Netherlands that I met at Mississippi Delta Blues Museum that was solo touring the U.S. on a bike that he shipped overseas just for that purpose.  He had been to many of the same places I had, so we shared our experiences of those places, discussed destinations yet to be seen, and swapped sightseeing recommendations.  From that brief interaction, we now follow each other’s travels on social media and my FitHippie logo sticker adorns one of his bike bags 😊

There’s the volunteers at a few Louisiana Visitor Centers/Museums that were so excited to have a guest with time to spare that they gave me personalized tours, pulled out special artifacts, and told wonderful, knowledgeable stories that made the visit so much more educational and interesting than if I had just breezed through them on my own.

There’s Jim and his family in Tennessee, one of my longest-running friendship from my Navy days (we’ve been friends almost 30 years).  I originally thought I’d stay for a night or two, but ended up staying for three, as I enjoyed sightseeing with his wife (and my close friend) Karla, and getting to be a part of my niece-by-choice’s everyday life.  Military bonds run deep and, thankfully, often defy time and geography 😊

There’s the B&B Inn Keeper in Louisiana who shared her long-lost dream of riding a motorcycle, but doubted her abilities so much that she had written it off as unachievable.  By the end of my stay, she was fired up to take the next rider safety course offered in her area and to give the whole riding thing a try!

There’s the Bunk-a-Biker host, Mike, I stayed with in Arkansas who grilled steaks for dinner and shared some great life stories with me.  We bonded and bantered over Navy/Army versus Air Force, and Harley versus Honda, cultures in a way that only fellow veterans and riders can.  We are now friends in both the virtual and real worlds.

There’s the National Guardsman Uber driver in Arkansas who was contemplating reclassifying into a medical specialty to align with his goal of becoming some type of medical provider in the future.  I enlightened him on a few Army programs open to enlisted personnel that provide a path to becoming an officer and a medical professional, and the ride ended with an enthusiastic promise that he would look into them.

There’s Crash, a Vietnam Veteran and fellow CVMA member that I met when he joined Mongo and Top for a weekend of riding with me in Banner Elk, NC (post about it HERE).  I remembered that he lived in Kentucky and not too far from the KY/TN border, so I texted him to let him know that I would be stopping in Cumberland Gap, TN for some riding.  He rode over 2 hours to spend a day riding and exploring the National Park there with someone he had only met briefly for a few days over a month ago.

And of course, there’s my family in Louisiana.  My heart is always overflowing when I can reconnect with the place and people that raised me and with whom I share familial bonds.  Having breakfast with my parents every morning, sharing meals with family, visiting with aunts, uncles and cousins, boat riding and sightseeing with my siblings, spending time with my nieces and nephews, and just hanging out on the back porch at my parents’ house, grounds and energizes me in a way nothing else can.

There are dozens more interactions, but these are examples of the light-hearted and happy contacts I enjoy on the road.  Others, however, are not so cheerful, and give me pause.  I pause to really appreciate how fortunate I am, and how unfair life circumstances can be. 

Like the cook in Maine who sat with me after making my breakfast and shared her military history with me (after establishing a little trust and prompting) about her service experience.  It turns out, she had been raped by a platoon sergeant back in the late 80’s, that resulted in a pregnancy, then kicked out of the Army for being pregnant and “a problem” Soldier.  She was denied all benefits (GI Bill, VA programs, etc.) and has struggled ever since.  I explained to her that the political and social climates have changed in regards to previous “behavioral” discharges since then and that she would likely be successful with a discharge classification appeal.  She looked me dead in the eyes and stated matter-of-factly “And let my daughter discover that she was the product of a rape?  No, I think I’ll just continue to take care of myself.”   

Like the man in Montana who joined me in the waiting area to kill time while our bikes were being serviced.  After chatting about bikes and rides for quite some time, he opened up and said that although he still feels compelled to ride, it’s no longer the same since an accident 2 years ago that claimed the life of his daughter.  He was leading, his adult daughter was on her own bike behind him, and his wife was riding sweep.  When he didn’t see his daughter in his rearview after a particularly tight series of turns, he turned around and rode back to find that she had overshot a turn and crashed.  She died shortly thereafter.  His wife, her mother, had witnessed the whole thing.  There was a dullness to his gaze and heaviness to his demeanor that I recognized from combat vets, and I knew he would likely never experience pure joy again in his life.

Like the Uber driver in Arkansas who endured two particularly arduous tours in Iraq and moved to the state to be with his girlfriend, and because it allows the use of medical marijuana as a viable treatment for PTSD.  His girlfriend and her family are not comfortable hearing about his wartime experiences, so he was visibly relieved to find out I was a fellow combat-deployed vet, and felt able to share some of those events with me.  We both shed tears, of pain stemming from deployments, and of joy sprouting from an instant veteran bond.  It was a powerful ride for both of us.

So, you see, my trips are chock full of interactions that cover the full spectrum of the human experience.  Some joyful, some painful, but all of them leaving me feeling interconnected to the world, and the people around me, and extremely grateful for my own life circumstances and incredible support system.  I don’t always have the time, or the patience, to hear the stories of the people I come into contact with, but I always try to remember that everyone has a story, and hardships, so try to be kind.  Some days I’m more successful than others, but each encounter is a new chance to try.  

I hope that if you have read this far, that you found this context beneficial, and that you may take a little extra time in your day to be open to interactions with strangers.