Tag Archives: motorcycle stories

Day 23 (+12 Day Intermission): Swansboro to Virginia Beach- Hurricane Maria

Real life with all its ‘To do’ lists and responsibilities and messes to tidy up and people to talk to and calendars and stuff is a fickle character. I’ve been back in Medford for 25 days and real life is trying to drown me.  Way back at the start of this year, I had a way of characterizing this feeling. It is like treading water in rough seas. Your hands and legs work furiously, but you keep gulping salt water all the while the waves bounce you up and down and up and down offering only glimpses of the steady land in the distance. That safe place where you can breath and take survey of your situation.

My first week back, a wave of responsibility crushed me. Who the hell schedules themselves to invent 5 new classes in one week after being checked out for 15-1/2 weeks? Apparently, the me I was 16 weeks early is who does that. I got crushed and anxious and a bit crazed. . .then I got sick. The flu. After that, I got ruthless. I looked at my calendar and asked myself “What is not serving me?” then I ejected, rejects and bailed out my boat and told myself “No treading water today.”

But, real life is a fickle, rentless, sociopathic, stalking, obsessive character. And many of my last 25 days are marked by throwing that character overboard, over and over again.

So, what is serving me today? Sitting in a coffee shop and telling you guys about my first day back on the road after spending my nephew’s first 12 days on earth with him (an the other characters in the household). How long does it take for ducklings to imprint? Fun fact, in those 12 days, I never once changed a dirty diaper. Yay, me!

I was not nearly as meticulous at planning my ride from Swansboro to Medford. I figured I would dedicate some portion of the 12 days I stayed in Swansboro to that, but, I didn’t. So, a few days before I set out, I started making reservations. A ride up the Outerbanks seemed not just awesome, but necessary. I reserved a spot on the 10:30am September 26th  ferry to Ocracoke Island. I would take an inner island ferry in the afternoon and stay in Nags Head.

Calm on Emerald Isle before Maria arrives.

 

Unfortunately, Hurricane Maria. . . yes, THAT Hurricane Maria of Puerto Rico devastation. . . also thought a visit to the Outerbanks on September 26th would be fun. While the storm surge sent surfers to the ocean, it sent me inland. Maria canceled my ferry on the morning of the 25th and offered up island winds in excess of 35mph for the 26th. She also put my crossing of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel into questions. Nothing like an 18 mile open ocean bridge crossing in high winds. It is closed to motorcycles when winds reach 45mph. 45 mph winds on a motorcycle- that is fucking nuts, but the alternative route to see a friend in NJ would add 4 hours to my ride on the 27th.

Real life is not the only fickle character aiming to drown my sensibility, traffic and weather of the Northeast Corridor is too.

After a quick rejiggering of my route and minus a $25 hotel cancellation fee for  cancelling within 2 weeks of the reservation for a reservation I made just 48 hours earlier, I took a deep breath, realized I Hurricane Maria flattened Puerto Rico, call my inconvenience silly compared to that of the thousands on the island and donated the remainder of what my hotel cost to Unicef.

On the morning of the 26th, I headed inland and straight for Virginia Beach.  The air was thick with high pressure to the west of the Hurricane Maria – which is what was driving her northwardly along the coast then pushing her back out to sea in the Northeast. Unfortunately, that means unlike the heat of California, Nevada, Utah and Arizona, I was riding through the relentless, humid, sticky heat of the South.  Intermittent sprinkles along the way just meant I was constantly damp and uncomfortable.

After 12 days of driving my sister’s big ol’, four wheeled SUV, my moto conditioning was a bit less than ideal for 7 hours on the road, in the heat. I can’t remember much of this ride other than the humidity, the sprinkles and trying to settle my back-on-the-road jitters. I treated myself to a a night at the Beach Spa Bead and Breakfast and a long massage on arrival. Even though my massage therapist chatted way more than I prefer, in the end, our connection around both of us one day heading off across the country to find some sanity made it all okay.

My motorcycle safely nuzzled down for the night while the rain poured down and the winds whipped around Virginia Beach; I looked at the conditions on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. It was closed to motorcycles for part of the day due to winds. I looked at the Cape May Ferry to New Jersey. Maria seemed to have spared it. I looked at the journey through New Jersey to Connecticut through what is the most heavily trafficed leg of my ride at the confluence of several major urban areas with driver known for their unpleasantness. I looked at my last day of riding home to Medford. The journey would be ending but at least I now knew I had a home to return to. And I looked to the days and weeks and months and years beyond that with a hesitation. Can’t I just stay on the road?

Finally, I settled in for the night and decided to I resist nagging voice of real life. I would face the bridge tomorrow. I would tackle New Jersey and those pesky drivers in their time. I would ride through reds, oranges, yellows and greens of New England. I would arrive at home. I would figure it out. Just not tonight.

Happy cooking and happy slaying real life!

Day 22: Durham to Swansboro – Nephews

On September 14 around 12:19pm, my sister sent me a text, “It’s raining like crazy here. Are you still on the road?”

Aww…that was awful sweet of her thinking about her big sister getting wet on the road, especially when you consider she had been in labor for a little more than 4 hours now. Guess, she was bored or something.

But seems my nephew was waiting to make his grand debut until I arrived while mother nature decided to dump a rogue cell of downpour right over where I was headed. The view out the window of my lunch stop said 85F and sunny, but the radar on my phone said, “You are going to get wet, very wet.” See Jacksonville there.

This was the last leg of my ride across the continent. I was looking forward to long stay with family. So, I didn’t really care much about a little water. I added rain covers to my luggage and headed out. Fortunately, I timed my arrival in Swansboro to be between waves of down pours and as I parked in the garage, the skies opened up and dumped an amount of water that only seems logical and possible if you live in coastal North Carolina. And about an hour later, my arrival got upstaged by the appearance of Alex Koamalu (Alex “Peaceful Courage” for those mainlanders not versed in Hawaiian).

Good timing, right?

Last time I visited my sister, I offered to pick up my nephew (Alex’s big brother, Evan) from daycare and take him to the aquarium. At that time, I, the childless one, got plenty of coaching, plenty of just-in-case stuff in a backpack and plenty of text message check ins during our three hour outing. That was way back in February. This time, with much on their mind, my sister and brother-in-law sent me off with Evan for bath and bedtime then breakfast with little more than “See y’all tomorrow.” I’ve heard parents get more lax after the second child, I just didn’t know it happened within moments of that second child’s arrival.

So, after a bath time that seemed less about cleaning and more about playing with boats in water and the daily “star” board, I proceeded to get tricked by a 3-year-old into reading about 25 bedtime stories and letting him sleep on the big bed with me. The former was around 10x his normal story hour and the latter involved having a toddler kick you right between the shoulder blades a few times a night and somehow relinquishing all but a slim edge of a bed to him. Then, an early rising from which he emerged seeming to have slept soundly despite the need to rotate stomach-to-back and head-to-toe multiple times, we had morning selfie session. All just a gentle reminder why I didn’t have my own mini-me or two.

I shall remain Auntie Awesome, thank you very much.

And now, offered for the edifice of my nephews, a montage of Auntie Awesome moments or as my nephew Dylan says “Boring Aunt Kimi” moments. I don’t think his vocabulary is very strong. He clearly doesn’t know the difference between boring and awesome. When will I have a niece?

Auntie Awesome playing keep the phone away from the Tornadoes.

Fighting Pancreatic Cancer with Auntie Awesome.

More keep away from the Tornadoes.

Yep, even more keep away from Tornadoes (there is also video).

Selfies with Auntie Awesome’s phone.

Marching and protesting in style with Auntie Awesome.

Looking cool on the subway with Daddy (tired Daddy?).

After a day of Awesomeness with Auntie Awesome.

Off to fight fires with Auntie Awesome.

Breakfast with Auntie Awesome.

Auntie Awesome is the best babysitter.

Chillin’ in the park, awesome-style.

Happy cooking and being boring.