motorcycling with a backpack
In the latest installment of my life, I took an overnight Greyhound from Orlando to Durham, NC -- the closest stop to Chapel Hill, where Liz goes to grad school. You know, I've heard people say all sorts of bad things about Greyhound, but I don't really have any complaints. The bus rides are long and at times my legs feel like they're about to atrophy from lack of use -- but I enjoy the time navel-gazing, looking out the window, and writing. A good night's sleep is made difficult due to the fact that some routes require you to get off the bus about every two hours so that they can service it -- however the advantage of this is that anyone who is continuing on the same bus gets to get on first, so you can generally get a better seat than you had to start. In terms of safety, I do keep my knife with me (technically prohibited), but I've never felt unsafe. People have been kind. One of my favorite parts has been watching the news in Greyhound stations, but really watching the way that the people around me are reacting. I'm getting so many angles on politics -- even listening to extreme right-wing conservative Tennessee radio, in which a caller was legitimately concerned that Obama would break into her house and burn her Bible, and the talk show host emphasized with this concern. It's fascinating.
Yesterday, when Liz and I were musing about how to best get me from the Greyhound station to her place in Chapel Hill. It went something like this:
LIZ: How do you feel about motorcycles?
ME: Pro.
LIZ: Hmm.
As it turns out, her new roommate is a guy named Chris who I have known for a very long time, but haven't seen since high school. He came and picked me up at the station in Durham, and helped me get suited up in a helmet, jacket, and gloves. (I'd like to note here for the reassurance of relatives as well as the molding of impressionable young minds that I firmly believe in wearing helmets, especially for horseback and motorcycle riding. I have too many friends that would have been seriously injured or worse if they had not been wearing them when falling off a horse.) I arranged my backpack for optimum comfort and we set off. We stopped for the best-tasting sub sandwich I've eaten probably ever (this is likely because all I've had to eat lately was a bag of honey roasted peanuts and some Nutter Butters), and now I'm ready to take a nap. I'm prepared to crash pretty hard, since that's what happened after my long bus rides to Nashville and Orlando.
Trevor & Michael called last night to entertain me while I was on the bus. I'm sure I was completely incoherent, but I remember that talking to them was nice and that they started reading stories to me. I didn't talk much since there were people sleeping around me; I mostly listened. Also, I remember a segment of conversation much like this:
ME: I miss you guys.
MICHAEL: We miss you, too. We actually take turns pretending to be you.
ME: Oh? How do you do that?
MICHAEL: Well, mostly we talk about horses and camp a lot, and eat a lot of bacon.
I'm sure I'm misquoting. I remember talking about Worms Armageddon and exploding sheep and playing Megaman (Mike and Zach may not remember this, but I distinctly remember being little and having them tell me that if I grabbed the other controller and repeatedly pressed the "A" button I was helping them beat the boss. That was pretty smart of them), and I may have fallen asleep before hanging up. It was all quite nice.
Yesterday, when Liz and I were musing about how to best get me from the Greyhound station to her place in Chapel Hill. It went something like this:
LIZ: How do you feel about motorcycles?
ME: Pro.
LIZ: Hmm.
As it turns out, her new roommate is a guy named Chris who I have known for a very long time, but haven't seen since high school. He came and picked me up at the station in Durham, and helped me get suited up in a helmet, jacket, and gloves. (I'd like to note here for the reassurance of relatives as well as the molding of impressionable young minds that I firmly believe in wearing helmets, especially for horseback and motorcycle riding. I have too many friends that would have been seriously injured or worse if they had not been wearing them when falling off a horse.) I arranged my backpack for optimum comfort and we set off. We stopped for the best-tasting sub sandwich I've eaten probably ever (this is likely because all I've had to eat lately was a bag of honey roasted peanuts and some Nutter Butters), and now I'm ready to take a nap. I'm prepared to crash pretty hard, since that's what happened after my long bus rides to Nashville and Orlando.
Trevor & Michael called last night to entertain me while I was on the bus. I'm sure I was completely incoherent, but I remember that talking to them was nice and that they started reading stories to me. I didn't talk much since there were people sleeping around me; I mostly listened. Also, I remember a segment of conversation much like this:
ME: I miss you guys.
MICHAEL: We miss you, too. We actually take turns pretending to be you.
ME: Oh? How do you do that?
MICHAEL: Well, mostly we talk about horses and camp a lot, and eat a lot of bacon.
I'm sure I'm misquoting. I remember talking about Worms Armageddon and exploding sheep and playing Megaman (Mike and Zach may not remember this, but I distinctly remember being little and having them tell me that if I grabbed the other controller and repeatedly pressed the "A" button I was helping them beat the boss. That was pretty smart of them), and I may have fallen asleep before hanging up. It was all quite nice.