Quality Sister-time!

Solar-powered.  If the sun is up, shining and heating up the day, then my sister and I are up, shining and heating up the day!  Once darkness falls, or the temperature drops however, so do we.  Monica and I share a lot of characteristics, the most significant of which is that we both love the heat, and despise the cold, in a way that we are unable to articulate.  Temperatures below 70 degrees is meant to be spent inside fantasizing about what we will do once the mercury rises!

Fortunately, when Monica arrived in San Antonio on Friday afternoon, the city was in the mid-80s and beckoning us to outdoor dining and drinking.  We started a progressive dinner of fish tacos and margaritas at Rosario's, followed by dessert and drinks back on the Riverwalk.  Great company, food, drinks and stories left us with our faces hurting from laughing so hard!

Though Saturday morning greeted us with chilly temperatures and overcast skies, we were undaunted on our quest to visit the Riverwalk again for photo ops and a visit to the Farmer's Market.  The Farmer's Market is located at The Pearl Brewery, which originally opened in 1883 on the site now just known as the "Pearl" along the San Antonio River.  Although Pabst took over the brewery in 1985, it shut down operations at the Pearl in 2001.  Twelve years later, the site is a hip area of stores, restaurants and tenant buildings.  Its diverse list of tenants include the Culinary Institute of America, the Aveda Institute, the Boiler House and Green restaurants as well as a bunch of eclectic shops. 

There is a B-Cycle bicycle rental station where you can rent bicycles for a few hours or the whole day on which to explore the Riverwalk and Pearl area.  With so much to see and do, we started off at the Farmer's Market and worked our way down to the fish art exhibit under the overpass.  The fish were damaged in a violent wind-storm that passed through San Antonio last month, but the original artist came out and fixed them last week.  The Riverwalk really is a beautiful path to stroll, run or ride a bike.

Spring is definitely in the air as evidenced by all the ducklings!  We stumbled upon this momma with about eight little ducklings soaking up the sun.  It took all morning, but the sun finally burned through the overcast clouds hanging in the sky.  After a little pastry snack at the Culinary Institute of America's cafe, we pointed the car northeast and headed towards winery country. 

It really is amazing how much the landscape changes and unfolds as you drive north from San Antonio into hill country.  Although I didn't see fields of bluebonnets like I had hoped, there were several small patches along the way that made a beautiful showing.  We followed the rolling hills past Canyon Lake to visit Duchman and Driftwood Wineries.  We enjoyed lunch at the Italian restaurant and beautiful Italian landscaping on the grounds of Duchman more than we enjoyed the wines, so we moved on to Driftwood for the remainder of the afternoon.

As you can see from the great view in this pic, the Driftwood Estate Winery tasting room overlooks the vineyards and neighboring farms, including a herd of goats that provided hours of entertainment as they moved from one end of a field to the other.  After a few glasses of wine, the social structure and leadership of a goat herd can take on the qualities of a sitcom!  I do have to confess conjuring up images of last weekend's cabrito burger as I watched them :-)  We enjoyed the wine and scenery for much of the afternoon in the company of lots of other folks doing the same.  Next time I know to bring a blanket and picnic lunch for the outing.

Sunday morning greeted us with temps in the 40s and a wind that made it feel in the 30s.  I know I'm getting no sympathy from my friends up North and to the East, but after the 90 degree Saturday spent soaking up sun in flip flops, it felt absolutely arctic here!  Propelled by grumbling stomachs and desire to experience a new restaurant in San Antonio, Monica and I braved the cold and made our way back to the San Antonio River for brunch at Guenther House.  Listed on the Registrar of Historic Places, Carl Hilmar Guenther, the founder of Pioneer Flour Mills, built this landmark home in 1859.  It's been beautifully maintained and the restaurant associated with it routinely shows up in any "best breakfast in San Antonio" list.  Although the wait was a bit excessive (due to seating mix-ups as much as capacity), when we finally got breakfast, it satisfied our taste buds and appetites.  What did we have for breakfast at the restaurant of a flour mill?  Why, big, fat, fluffy biscuits, that's what we had!  I've only had decent biscuits and gravy once or twice in my life, but this place certainly did it up right. 

Unfortunately, Monica's weekend with me came to an end as I dropped her off at the airport after breakfast.  Hopefully it was just the first of many visits to San Antonio for her (hint, hint!).  Oh, and the pic of me waiting for our table at the Guenther House is for my Dad, he wanted to see my new cowboy boots :-)

Savor the day everyone!! 

Leisurely TX weekend

No, I did not deface the cactus, it was already like that!

Periodically, both enlisted and officers go through professional development courses throughout their careers.  On Friday, I "graduated" from a nine week company grade officer leadership course.  Fortunately for me, this course was here at Fort Sam Houston, so I didn't have to live in temporary lodging while attending.  Although not particularly arduous, I had to substitute a good portion of my recreational reading with required reading for the program.  So, to celebrate the return of leisure reading of my choice, a friend and I headed to the hill country for a little exploring.

Yesterday was a beautiful 80 degree, cloudless sky event.  We couldn't have asked for better weather for the 6 mile hike through Hill Country State Natural Area in Bandera County. There weren't many flowers blooming yet, but the stark scenery was still beautiful and inviting.  Although we hiked the limestone trail at a leisurely pace, we still worked up an appetite and thirst for our next stop- Mac & Ernie's Roadside Eatery.  This little kitchen shack located on FM470 has been featured on The Food Network and the Travel Channel. 

Guy Fieri ate here (and apparently left a sign- see pic) for his show Diner's, Drive-Ins and Dives as did Andrew Zimmern for Bizarre Foods. I'll admit that goat isn't a meat you regularly find on American menus, but to this Cajun girl, the Cabrito burger I ate there didn't seem very bizarre at all.  In fact, it was quite tasty and provided the perfect accompaniment to my Shiner Bock brew.

Mac & Ernie's had a great local feel to it.  The lime green table tops, lemon yellow 1950s style dining chairs and order ticket conveyor belt, featuring a yellow goat dropping the order ticket off to the cooks, just made the whole place feel fun.  The fact that the food and service was great was just lagniappe!

As we continued down 470, we spied some interesting sites along the road.  We did a double-take and actually turned the car around to go back and take a picture of this scarecrow maw and paw farmer hay bale holder.  Teamwork! 

The other interesting site was a couple of different locations where coyotes hung from fence posts along the road.  We wondered what they meant.  Was there a competition amongst ranchers for who could kill the most coyotes?  Was this a way for the county to keep track of the coyote population and kills?  The all-knowing Google revealed that ranchers kill the predators after they've attacked their livestock and then hang them upside down on fence posts in the area as a deterrent.  Apparently, other coyotes come and sniff the carcasses and realize that this may not be the best place for them to seek their next meals.  Whether it works or not, I'm not sure, but the suspended, decaying carcasses certainly make for interesting road side sites.

 

The final stop of the day was wine tasting at the Bending Branch Winery.  We couldn't have asked for a better setting to imbibe some great local spirits.  We sampled wines under shade trees on an outside deck while being serenaded by a local musician playing acoustic guitar.  The breeze and warmth made the whole experience feel absolutely decadent.  Of the whites and reds we sampled, my favorites were the Vermentino (white grapes of Mediterranean origin) and the Tempranillo (a red reminiscent of my favorite Spanish Riojas).    As daylight drew down, we pointed the car towards San Antonio feeling satisfied with the physically active, yet gastronomically rewarding day.

 

 

 

  

   

It's taken a couple of months, but San Antonio is feeling like home already.  Everything is within convenient distance from my house- supermarket, gym, work, runs, riding, etc.  I think that the required reading of TX civil war battles for the career course I'm in right now combined with the overall satisfaction I feel for my current environment is endearing me to the Lone Star state.  For those of you who relocate regularly, I'm sure you can appreciate how slowly the acclimation process can be.  My previous strategy of getting out and playing tourist in my new locale has helped me to adjust even quicker than usual.

In deference to the age-old tactic of going to the high ground to get a feel for new terrain, I went to the top of the 750 foot Tower of the Americas.  From the Chart House Bar, we sipped wine and enjoyed the view of the Alamo City below us against the backdrop of the restaurant one floor below us rotating ever so slowly.  You can see some of the great vintage photos of the city displayed on the restaurant walls reflected in the windows in this pic.  If you go there, the tower of lump crab meat, mango and avocado appetizer is delicious!

Starting with Mission San Antonio de Valero (AKA the Alamo), the largest concentration of Catholic missions in North America is strung along the San Antonio River.  Built around the 1700s, these compounds served to further the Spanish empire as well as to "civilize" and convert American Indians.  The combination of encroaching nomadic tribes from the north and European diseases introduced by the Spanish caused the local Coahuiltecans to be relatively willing recruits for the missionaries.  In exchange for labor and conversion to Catholicism, Indians received food and refuge within the missions run by the Franciscan friars.  I'm piecemealing my tour of the missions over different visits.  Around the holidays, I explored the downtown Riverwalk area with a friend and saw the Alamo lit up at night.  This weekend, we explored Mission Concepcion and Mission San Jose during a bike ride along the San Antonio River.   

Other than the 6 hour wait at the Department of Public Safety to obtain a TX driver's license, most of my indoctrination to Texas life has been quite enjoyable.  I bought my first pair of cowboy boots and a belt complete with a bling buckle from the quintessential Western clothing store Cavender's.  In response to several requests for pictures of said boots, you'll just have to wait for another post :-)

The next highly Texan event was the San Antonio Stock Show and Rodeo last weekend.  A friend scored VIP tickets 6 rows up from the dirt arena so my first rodeo experience was up close and personal to the action!  Although bull-riding, calf-roping and barrel racing were entertaining, I thought that the 4 and 5 year old mutton-busters took the show.  The crowd went crazy as most of the child riders rose from the dirt with hands held up triumphantly after holding on to their sheep for as long as possible.

The rodeo experience ended with a 1.5 hour Toby Keith concert.  Whether you like country music or not, there's no denying that this singer and songwriter genuinely appreciates men and women serving the U.S.  San Antonio showed its appreciation for his decade of commitment to service members through USO tours and awareness by breaking the all-time rodeo attendance record for his concert.  His cowboy themed songs like "Beer for my horses," "Should've been a cowboy" and "I love this bar" inspired the buckle wearing crowed.  But it was "Courtesy of the red, white and blue" and "American Soldier" that brought the patriotic crowd to its feet.  He had special seating ringing the stage right on the dirt floor brought in for area Wounded Warriors and even brought them all up on stage for the last couple of songs.  It was a great concert and fun weekend.

I'm making no promises, but I'll try to be more diligent with my postings for those of you who continue to tune in!
 

2013

 
 

I hope everyone had a great holiday season and was surrounded by people whose company you truly enjoy and presence you genuinely cherish.  The holidays that fall on the calendar between late November and early January mean many different things to different people, but for me it’s all about re-connecting with family; reliving old family traditions and creating new ones for the next generation.

One of my favorite Christmas traditions growing up was Christmas Eve at Aunt Ruth and Pyran Wayne’s house.  There was just something magical about this much-anticipated event on December 24^th every year.  From as far back as my memory can reach all the way up to coming home on leave from the Navy, we’d get all dressed up, load up the car and make our way towards a gathering of family and food.  In the midst of all this visiting and gift-giving, we’d always take a moment to separate Christmas from my sister’s birthday since a December 24^th birthdate has a way of getting lost in the shuffle.  Time, relocations, schedules and just life in general ended the tradition somewhere along the line, but this year saw a return to the magical Christmas Eve at Aunt Ruth and Pyran Wayne’s house!!  All of the kids are grown now, but gathering family with food and sharing stories and laughter still felt the same.  So many great memories from the past and now being made again!

 

 

 

Mid-November, I made the trip west to check into my new command and set up a household in San Antonio.  With the help of colleagues and friends from work (as well as a nice cop who pulled me over for running a stop sign), it didn’t take me long to find a place to rent in a great location.  My mom came out and helped me unpack my household goods and find a place for them in my new home.  It was a busy and tiring week, but we both enjoyed the quality time together.  Although my mom has only made a couple of moves in her lifetime, she definitely has a knack for establishing a household!  After the boxes were unpacked and things put away, we drove back to Louisiana in time for the Christmas holidays. 

 

 

 

With such an intense and rewarding tour in NC from which to launch, I feel potential all around me in this new location and opportunity.  So, with the flip of a page on the calendar, a fresh year is spread out before me.  My wish for all of you is the same as it is for me- that all obstacles will be viewed as welcomed challenges and that each day ends with the feeling that your presence in it mattered.  Here’s to a fun and prosperous 2013!

 

 

 

Fat, stupid and happy!

 
The title definitely describes how I felt at the end of Thanksgiving!  I overate (not too much though), didn't tax myself intellectually (except for a few trivia questions) and was content in the place and time I found myself!

I know that everyone thinks that their mom is the best cook on earth, but I hate to break the news to the world... my mom really IS the best cook on earth!  Without fail, my mom pulls together a feast for what usually amounts to a small army every holiday.  And it's not like it's just a one-time sit down event on the special day.  With all the kids, grandkids and various family members old enough to have other social obligations, people drop in and out all day long ready to grab a plate and dig in.  No matter what time someone shows up at her house, Mom makes sure there's a hot plate of food available.



Although our Thanksgiving meal does include the uniquely Cajun dish of oyster dressing, the majority of what she prepares on Thanksgiving is pretty much the same as the rest of America.  The turkey is traditionally baked, not deep fried and the sweet potatoes are cooked with brown sugar and topped with marshmellows.  It's not the uniqueness nor the complexity of the dishes that make the meal so delicious, it's the environment in which it's prepared and served.  My parents, brother and sister, niece and nephews, cousins, aunts and uncles all enjoy each others' company and value the time we spend together as a family.  It's within the context of breaking bread with those we hold dear that the foods we share bring about a visceral feeling of home, of family and fond memories of those no longer with us.  It takes a great cook to get all that onto a table!!  And speaking of tables, I'm still at the kids' table!  That's me with Philip and Gavin at the folding table!

 

The temperature was in the mid-70s and the sky clear and windless.  After eating, we all hung out outside under the carport and played games.  The board games change throughout the years, depending on the ages of the "kids" and what's available, but trivia games are always a hoot.  My nephew Andy brought over his washer game.  For some reason, beanbags seem a little too Yankee, so they are substituted with metal washers down here- yes, the kind you use with nuts and bolts.  I don't know the history of using washers in the cornhole toss game, so if any of my Southern readers care to comment, please enlighten me!

 

As usual, the day ended with everyone lying around the TV watching either football or a movie.  I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving day surrounded by all you are thankful for! 

On the move

The last month or so has been quite a whirlwind- and yes, that's my excuse for being so tardy with my posts!  Not long after my ride south, a group of us flew out to Joint Base Lewis-McChord, WA for a week of meetings.  It was an exhausting week of program discussions and of saying good-bye to a truly amazing group of professionals.  Those program discussions and farewells would become the theme of my days for the better part of October.

The cycle of military transfers is a unique evolution.  Known as a PCS (Permanent Change of Station), receiving orders to a new duty station starts a cascade of events and emotions.  There's the excitement of moving on to a new challenge and meeting new people, but that's usually tempered by the feeling that there's so much more left to do at the current assignment and having to leave good friends.  For those of you who have never experienced PCSing personally, it's hard to articulate how all-encompassing the process is.  Every project you've worked on must be either finalized or readied for your replacement.  As is often the case, not only will your replacement likely not arrive until well after your departure, but sometimes your replacement may not even be identified before your departure.  So take a moment to reflect on how you would ready every thing you do at your job for an unknown person coming in after an unidentified gap of coverage.  Even with the benefit of communicating with your replacement, it's hard to download all the history, contacts and documents necessary to provide them with context needed to help them succeed.  Beyond the actual workload, when you PCS, you are leaving behind all your co-workers, friends and routines.  It's not like they all fall off the face of the earth, but the dynamics as you know it ceases to exist once you process out of your job and locale.  Most of us that have been around the block a few times understand that although you can always go back to a place, you can never go back to that place in time that it once was to you.  I speak from experience- this is my 12th move in the last 23 years- 2 of which were overseas relocations.  I have to say though, having professional movers do the packing and loading and being able to purge my household every couple of years makes the physical move much easier!

So with this context and a bit of melancholy, I will share a few of the events from the last two weeks. 

On my last day of work, our office had an historical field trip known in the Army as a "staff ride."  Fort Bragg and the surrounding areas are full of civil war sites.  When I'm out riding my bike, I usually stop to read historical site markers and have visited some of the buildings and cemeteries described on them, but none of them were civil war sites actually on Fort Bragg.  With a few cups of coffee in us and enough snivel gear to guard against the chilly day, we gathered for a brief on the Civil War Battle at Monroe's Crossroads from an archaeologist and cultural advisor at Fort Bragg.  He set the stage for what we were about to see out in the field by putting the battle in context in regards to the phase of the Civil War in which it occurred, the mindset of the local population, local economy, weather conditions, background and personalities of each of the leaders involved.

It's one thing to read about a battle that happened nearly 150 years ago, but it's another to stand on the actual battleground with an expert helping you to visualize how it unfolded.  Armed with the nuances of the event from the morning brief, I was able to really put myself into the boots of the Civil War Soldiers who fought in the battle.  Well, I put myself into their heavy, uncomfortable uniforms and situation as much I could as I stood on a peaceful piece of land in ACUs swaddled in snivel gear and cushioned combat boots!

At the conclusion of the staff ride, everyone rallied up at a local Thai restaurant for my farewell luncheon.  I LOVE Thai food and Fayetteville has no shortage of excellent Asian eating establishments.  Truth be told, my last week in Fayetteville included three lunches of Thai cuisine!

The final farewell was held at the home of my friends Jess and Dano.  If you follow this blog, you are already aware of their culinary prowess from my post on camping with them a while back.

Although I'm no longer in the Navy, my current work environment is similar to that of a pirate ship, and as such, is often referred to as the Black Pearl!  Our office is one-deep each of subject matter experts (SMEs) in about a dozen disciplines.  Representing our individual expertise beyond the capabilities of one-person usually requires us to resort to any means necessary to get the mission accomplished.  Although we don't plunder or pillage (for the most part), we're not above going above, around or, quite frankly through, anyone who stands between us and mission success.  Since skulls and crossed bows or knives are already prevalent throughout the SOF community, it was inevitable that the pirate skull and crossbones became the symbol of our efforts.  Dano did the reference proud with these pirate chocolate cupcakes made from scratch (including the icing) for my party!!!  Christi, Jess, Dano, Rob, Barb and I ate, drank and laughed until our sides hurt.  It was an unforgettable evening with great friends that I already miss.

My last day in Fayetteville offered me one final visit to the Airborne and Special Operations Museum.  This was the third year I went there to honor Veterans Day; this was the third year that the weather was absolutely gorgeous and offered a crisp, cloudless backdrop for the flags posted everywhere.

With so many celebrations commemorating my time at Fort Bragg and quality time with good friends and exceptional co-workers, I was able to leave feeling satisfied that my tour here was productive and that I am ready for the next assignment.  I drove the 14 hours between NC and LA straight through and am now hanging out at my parents' house for a few weeks before reporting into Fort Sam Houston.  I'm sure I'll have some food pics to post before leaving for Texas as I spend some time at home with my family... 

Slow Ride

didi

So it was a quick turn-around for part two of my vacation time.  On Sunday, Monica flew out of NC after our week-long beach odyssey and on Monday, I mounted my Streetglide and headed west.

I don't know if it's really a bucket list, but somewhere in my head is a list of things I'd like to accomplish and places I'd like to visit over my lifetime.  There are very few things on the list that I haven't done, or at least attempted, but as soon as I check off one item, I seem to add about 3 more!

Front motorcycle parking outside communal building.

Ever since I got stationed in NC, I've wanted to do the famous rides found along the NC/TN border in the Great Smoky Mountains.  My camping trip with Jess and Dano a few weekends ago into a nearby area just added to my conviction that I'd make it happen before I left NC.  In a few months, I'll be transferring to San Antonio, TX so I knew I had to find a way to fit this riding in not only before I moved, but also before the weather got too chilly for me to enjoy it.  As it turned out, I cut the weather piece a little close, but in the end, it all worked out.

Backside of Ironhorse.  Camping and cabins across the creek.

Since it was still good riding weather for anyone born north of Baton Rouge, I brushed aside my usual tendency to just roll into a town and try my luck at finding lodging and actually got online and made a reservation.  The original intent was to stage out of Robbinsonville, NC at the foot of some epic rides for a couple of days, then roll on to the Natchez Trace Trail down to Louisiana.  As luck would have it, the two days I planned on staying in the mountains were some of the wettest on record this year.  My desire to experience riding in the Smoky Mountains prompted me to extend my stay which allowed me a rainless, albeit chilly, riding day in some beautiful country.

Upstairs loft overlooking the Great room at Ironhorse.

Before I launch into a narrative about the actual riding, I have to give kudos to a great little nugget I found online.  The Ironhorse Motorcycle Lodge in Stecoah, NC proved to be a highlight of my week long riding trek.  All of the pictures in this post so far were taken at Ironhorse.  You would think that a day and a half of solid rain would cause a biker to lament her bad luck and curse the weather, but this place actually made even poor riding weather turn into a great opportunity.  This place has camping, bunk houses, private rooms with baths and whole cabins to stay in.  The best part though, is the huge communal building where everyone eats and hangs out to compare rides, equipment, riding stories and food.  The bad weather did nothing more than prompt most of us to hang out and make new friends.

Chris, Jackie & Brian out front of the Dragon hat store!

There are numerous pros and cons to traveling alone.  One of the definite benefits is that I'm much more approachable, which in itself is both a pro and a con!  It only took a half a day of pouring rain for me to make three new friends.  Chris, Jackie and Brian had ridden down from Ohio and had already done several of the rides on my agenda.  We spent the morning all hanging out talking bikes and getting to know each other before we spied a break in the clouds.  We were all itching to do some riding, so we donned rain gear and off we went.    As you can see in this pic of us at the entrance to the Tail of the Dragon, we got a little wet on our roll-out, but we didn't care even a little bit!  We avoided the more technical rides since the roads were so slick, but we still managed to ride the Hell-Bender 28, see some beautiful scenery and enjoy some curvy, flowing roads.

Click on pic.  Can you make out the dragon over the Cherohala Skyway?

A cold front rolled in that night so we were greeted with low 50s temperatures the next morning.  For my intrepid Buckeye friends, these temps didn't even register as something that needed a reaction.  But for this Cajun girl, I was sporting a full arsenal of snivel gear on a body that rested on a heated seat (yes, my new ride has all the bells and whistles!).

Jackie, Chris and Brian had already ridden the Dragon before my arrival, so I escorted them on the Cherohola Parkway as they made the trek back home towards OH.

Trail of the Dragon "Tree of Shame"

After parting ways with my new friends at the end of the Cherohala Skyway, I continued to make the loop that would take me on the Tail of the Dragon and back to the Ironhorse Lodge.  Luckily, the day warmed a little and I was able to relax and feel the road beneath my tires as I  rambled next to lakes, farmland and beautiful homesteads.  Once I hit the section of US 129 known as the Tail of the Dragon however, sightseeing ceased and I concentrated on the road ahead.  The road is so storied as treacherous that there's even a "Tree of Shame" on the NC side of it in which hangs parts left on the road by cyclists taking the turns too fast.  In order to document a biker's epic, or tragic, ride, there are a few professional photographers set up in some pretty hairy curves along the Dragon.  If you want to get a feel for what the ride is like, check out these websites:  www.killboy.com, www.us129photos.com, www.moonshinephoto.com.

There's no doubt that the 318 curves in 11 miles were technical and challenging; a biker had gone over the edge while I was riding it resulting in his bike resting 30 feet below in a ravine (thankfully, he walked away).  But I didn't find this stretch of highway any more difficult than the numerous mountain roads I prowled as I learned to ride a motorcycle in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.  Nevertheless, the Dragon was on my list of rides to do, so I enjoyed the journey and added it to my collection of experiences.

Natchez Trace Trail next to Ross R Barnett Reservoir in MS.

                                                                                     With all these notorious rides now under my belt, I pointed my bike southwest and made my way to the Natchez Trace Trail.    This trail extends 444 miles from Nashville, TN to Natchez, MS through three states and 10,000 years of North American History.  The route was once a footpath that bisected the traditional homelands of the Natchez, Chicksaw and Choctaw nations.  Now, it's a well-maintained two-lane highway closed to commercial traffic that doesn't have a single stop sign or red light for 444 miles!  Well, it was actually shut down from Jackson to Natchez, MS for upgrades, but other than that, no stops!  For a biker who enjoys scenery more than technical curves, this stretch of asphalt was the perfect way to see a large portion of MS.  Along the way, I saw numerous wild turkey and deer grazing along the side of the road, as well as seemingly kamikaze butterfly colonies that coated the ferring of my Streetglide after only a few miles.  A humorous interaction occurred at almost every gas stop once I left the Smokey Mountains.  I would shut off my bike and unscrew the gas tank cover to fill the tank.  Inevitably, some guy would get out of his car or truck, saunter over, and feel obliged to comment "That's a big bike."  I'd just smile and reply, "I'm a big girl."  Really, what is the appropriate response to that comment?  You don't have to be big to ride a big bike.  Quite a few guys I know wouldn't be able to lift an 850 lb bike off the ground if they dropped it, so it has nothing to do with picking it up.  The only issue related to the weight of the bike that I have to pay attention to is not parking it on a down slope.  It has no reverse, so backing the Streetglide out under leg power up a hill is much harder than it was with the Sportster!  

Riding the Tail of the Dragon. Photo by Moonshinephoto.com.

There seems to be a common thread that runs through some of my most pleasurable past-times- wind and warmth!  Although I enjoy a gentle breeze when I'm sitting on a porch swing or hanging out on the beach, it seems that a forceful, hot wind rushing past me causes my senses to come alive.  On a beautiful summer ride in Colorado between Colorado Springs and Canyon City on my Sporty several years back, it dawned on me how similar the feeling of riding my motorcycle was to riding in a boat in South Louisiana.  It was the warmth of the sun combined with the sound and feel of the rushing wind that felt utterly familiar and comforting.  In those precious 4-6 seconds of military static line parachuting before the chute opens or the glorious 30 or so seconds of free fall involved in skydiving, I have the same sensation.  Something about the heat and adrenaline rush of air whipping past me focuses my mind.  In those moments, I'm in the moment.  Work, relationships, economics, politics, every world dilemma recedes to some unregistered part of my brain and all I feel is that moment.  Whether I'm falling through the sky at terminal velocity or gliding over asphalt on two mechanized wheels, I have no thoughts other than the sensations of that moment in time.  It's just me and my interpretation of the sensations.  Just me and the consequences of my actions.  It's just me and whatever power controls my fate.

My ride spanned over 1000 miles and 6 states in 5 days.  I made new friends, saw some amazing scenery, reconnected with the sheer joy of a hobby and ended with precious time with family.  My week alone on the road reaffirmed my independence, yet my ability to enjoy those I encounter along my journey.  It's taken me a lot of years to stop and enjoy the proverbial "smell of the roses", but I'm finally coming to a place in life that allows me to stay and enjoy the experience I'm in instead of focusing on the next one to come.  It's still a conscious effort to be there, but there I am :-)