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I’m tired. Although I slept, I awoke exhausted, restless, and unfulfilled. As usual, I am wanting more.
To be more…
To do more…
To think more…
To reach the goals I have set for myself…
To live by the designs written in my flesh…
To transform myself into…

I don’t know. Today is a struggle for survival.

Eyes: bloodshot.
Mind: slow.
Body temperature: elevated.
Caffeine level: inadequate.

This week my mom is getting her pacer maker installed. I am taking a couple of days off from work so that I can ferry her around and make sure she has everything she needs. To say that I am a bit stressed, is a gross understatement. I realize it is a standard procedure, but not for me. This is new and I am not in control of it by any means, therefore I am very, very uncomfortable with it. I don’t like to fly for basically the same reason. I can’t see where we are going and I have no control over the outcome of the trip so… I don’t like it. Trusting some guy (probably some older white guy, or maybe a short Indian dude, but odds are it’s a guy) with my mom’s life does not exactly sound thrilling to me.

Yesterday was Easter. I had started a blog entry, ranting about my view of Christianity as a death cult. The basic premise of my argument is that any ideology that focuses all of its efforts through either direct or indirect methods on death and the concept of an afterlife is obsessed with death. I was razed oops, raised in the tradition. I have heard the stories. I know the rituals of my sect. Still, it is a death cult. “Repent or burn in hell!” Translation: Do what i/we tell you to do or you will suffer after you die. Sounds like a death cult to me. But I digress.

My mom made a nice meal of steak, twice baked potatoes, corn on the cobs, and rolls. After dinner we had the “I had better show you where everything is” discussion/walk-though. It is so thrilling to get the “here’s this.” “there’s that.” “don’t let your sister have this.” Etc. I learned more about the distribution of her estate upon death. I get a larger portion than I knew about or expected. My sister was pretty much burned every bridge with my mother. The result is that she gets written further and further out of the will each time she asks for money. That’s almost a weekly event. And her share diminishes accordingly. I’m not sure how I really feel about that. Yes, I could use the money. I need to pay off my student loans. But I don’t want it in that way. I would rather write some earth-shatteringly good piece of code and reverse the matrix. I would rather be able to provide for my mom. I would love to buy her a new Volvo SUV and hand her a credit card. “It’s yours. The card has a $20k limit and I will cover everything. Call me when you get there.” I would truly love to do that for her.

When I left, I stood at the stop sign for the road into Carlton. If I go right I head home. If I go straight I head towards Hillsboro. If I go left, I will end up on the coast. I went left and arrived home 6 hours later, cold, and slightly wet.

It was a strange ride. The weather was pretty shitty. It was just starting to rain when I arrived at my Mom’s two hours earlier. Now, it was definitely raining without any hint of a let up. To start, I turned the wrong way when I left my Mom’s. I corrected that problem as the rain continued to fall. I stood, alone at this intersection, thinking about the metaphor of my life. Which way do I go? Where should I turn? What is the best path for me at this moment? I decided to go west, down the same road where I crashed with my mom not so long ago. But first, I needed to change out my gear for a longer ride in the rain. I doubled back to a meat packing plant a few hundred yards from the stop sign. I pulled under an awning and began the transition: clear visor, lens, waterproof glove liners, tank bag inside the top case where is will not get soaked, txt a friend so that someone knows of my plan, turn off phone.

Anything else?

No. I guess not.

Time to disappear.

The road wasn’t as I remembered, longer, slicker, lonelier. It was all of this. More and less. I wasn’t in a hurry, so I didn’t push. The first section up to the lake was easy enough. Butterscotch run-off covered the tarmac in places where driveways where on higher ground. Fog licked emerald tree tops. Stable temp of 48, made sure the electrics were on, wrapping my torso in synthetic hear. Resistance is futile. Resistance is what is keeping me alive right now. My mind wandered a bit too often which causes me to overshoot corners for no particular reason. But my speeds were low and my errors rarely resulting in more than a foot or two of deviation from my target line. I was going that slow. The unpaved section was hard-packed and solid. It was in this area that I encountered my first traffic. Right before the paved restarts, there is a one-lane bridge. It stands at a tilt with mud and puddles before and the beginnings of asphalt beyond. On the other side a Honda SUV was approaching. I stopped and flicked my intention to wait. The water launched as the front wheels dropped off of the paved bridge and into a pair of large potholes. I used this bit of knowledge to plan my own path. The front end slid a bit on some leaves in one corner. And the bike felt a little disconnected at times, but I didn’t expect much else. I just rolled through the forest, alone with my music and the throbbing machine between my legs.

Beaver came too soon. Was I really that disconnected?

I turned south to bottom of the Three Capes Loop. The wind started to pick up as I neared the coast. Entering a 90 degree 40mph turn, I leaned into a strong gust. It is hard for me to explain, but it was like I was leaning into a steady 70 mph wind. I leaned in, then realized the bike wasn’t angled to match my input, so I leaned in farther. The corner was simple enough, it just took twice as much lean effort than I am used to. On 101 I had the same entertainments. High winds blowing a odd angles against my desired trajectory. Once I turned north at the first cape, the wind seemed to stop completely. Finally, a respite. The road was basically empty on the stormy evening. My mind continued to wander until I noticed a car running up my ass when I reached the second cape. About this same time I was in the middle of a off-camber rising right-hander. I’m wondering how long the car has been back there in one part of my brain. The other part is tracking a line on the left side of the lane. Everything looks clear… until I notice a nice collection of potholes in my exact line. I adjust and drift a bit farther out, then my rear wheel touches the paint stripe. Zip! Bike ass end of bike drops as it slides across the stripe and into the space between the double yellow. Oops. I guess I need to pay a little more attention, not that I would have done anything different. I picked a reasonable line, at a reasonable speed. I drifted about 6 inches off my intended line in an effort to go around 4 potholes of various diameters. The mistake was drifting that last couple of inches. The recovery was seamless and uneventful in my own mind. It just happened. I wasn’t leaned over that far. The car behind me obviously noticed because it faded back. My mental reaction was irritation. There is was anger. Flaring from within. Nice. I slid up on the tank, ducked my head and accelerated. The next set of corners flew past. I would push hard through the straits and brake hard while still vertical and drop in with intent and action. In short, I stopped spacing off, pointing my bike through the turns and started attacking the corners. Once my brain returned and I regained a more attentive riding style, the car behind me started closing in again. “What is this fucker thinking?” Through the next straights I started pulling away. Hitting 90 in a longer section, I lost sight of the headlights. About this time, I decided I should pull off and mellow out for a few minutes. But I couldn’t find any place to do that. Argh! There’s a fork near Netarts Bay. I usually go right hugging the coastline. Today was no different. I rolled through the 4- mph zone at 60, banked left and ripped around a couple of bends. Then I started to scrub off speed. 35 was very mellow and obtainable.

I scored fuel in Manzanita at the Shell station. My fuel light had been flashing for about 14 miles at that point. Seaside seemed too far to take the risk.

Back in motion, I didn’t stop. Seaside: All greens. Warrenton: green. Astoria: green and yellows… all the way through town. That’s never happened before. The journey to Longview was more of the same, the main difference was the pain developing between my shoulder blades. I tried to stretch, wiggle and move. I am sure it was very amusing for anyone watching. I had both legs stuck out as I rolled my ankles and moved my knees back-n-forth with several snaps and pops. I am always amused by that, the sound traveling through my body. In some little town, where I was doing 2 mph over the posted limit, I rolled past die Polizei. I didn’t change a thing and continued. Up and down, round and round. The only traffic I encountered was on-coming and that usually happened in passing zones where there was a extra lane between us. Just north of Rainier, I took the bridge to Longview. Green, right, green, green, green, left on to the connector to I-5. By this point the rain had ended.

Riding in the rain is a trade-off for comfort and control. I like to ride with the windscreen at its lowest position. But… when my visor keeps misting up from water kicked up by other traffic I like to keep the windscreen about 50% up. There’s a sweet spot where I can get my helmet in a zone of minimal turbulence, while the wind forces the water down off of my visor.

When I hit I-5, the windscreen dropped and I rolled it up to 80. I saw a couple cops. They were both occupied. Traffic was light until I got down to 205. And it was an easy rip down to I-84 and home. I arrived home, tired, wet, slightly cold. I went straight to bed, cranked the electric blanket and drifted off.

I traveled over 320 miles on the FJR, mostly in the rain. It took me 1 hour to get to my mom’s house, then 6 hours to return home.

And that’s why I am so wasted today.