The PCH
Friday, July 9, 2004.
It is 4:45 a.m. I have been awake for almost an hour. I am dressed and ready - I think.
All bags have been packed, loaded and strapped on with my multi-colored bungie cords. I double check my camera case to make certain it isn't going anywhere. It isn't.
The neighborhood is dark and quiet as the sun slumbers still but it remains inordinately warm. It is July in Arizona. You can't expect it to drop much below 90 degrees at any time including what should be the coolest part of the morning. The scene from a distance belies the underlying unrest and the related potential energy of the impending journey. An EKG would reveal a more accurate depiction of the mood. I am nervous. I am full of anticipation. I am covered in leather and it is 88 degrees. The "boys" are quite damp.
Rules of the road have been established and there are but two:
Rule #1 - No eating at chain restaurants; we get as much local flavor as possible.
Rule #2 - We stop when we feel like it (and the corollary - we go when we feel like it).
I tie a black, Jack Daniels bandana across my forehead and tuck the top corner under the knot in the back. The helmet slides on over the bandana. The earbuds of my mp3 player are popped into place, the helmet positioned and strapped.
I do not know where I will be sleeping tonight; I turn the key and press the starter button and FLMNG1 rumbles to life.
The throaty sound of our motorcycles fades from the sleepy little residential neighborhood as we put distance between the doers and the dreamers. We head west without glancing at a map. Our route consists of only two paths - Interstate 10 to the coast and then a right turn onto Highway 1, the Pacific Coast Highway.
We will stop when we feel like it.
It is 4:45 a.m. I have been awake for almost an hour. I am dressed and ready - I think.
All bags have been packed, loaded and strapped on with my multi-colored bungie cords. I double check my camera case to make certain it isn't going anywhere. It isn't.
The neighborhood is dark and quiet as the sun slumbers still but it remains inordinately warm. It is July in Arizona. You can't expect it to drop much below 90 degrees at any time including what should be the coolest part of the morning. The scene from a distance belies the underlying unrest and the related potential energy of the impending journey. An EKG would reveal a more accurate depiction of the mood. I am nervous. I am full of anticipation. I am covered in leather and it is 88 degrees. The "boys" are quite damp.
Rules of the road have been established and there are but two:
Rule #1 - No eating at chain restaurants; we get as much local flavor as possible.
Rule #2 - We stop when we feel like it (and the corollary - we go when we feel like it).
I tie a black, Jack Daniels bandana across my forehead and tuck the top corner under the knot in the back. The helmet slides on over the bandana. The earbuds of my mp3 player are popped into place, the helmet positioned and strapped.I do not know where I will be sleeping tonight; I turn the key and press the starter button and FLMNG1 rumbles to life.
The throaty sound of our motorcycles fades from the sleepy little residential neighborhood as we put distance between the doers and the dreamers. We head west without glancing at a map. Our route consists of only two paths - Interstate 10 to the coast and then a right turn onto Highway 1, the Pacific Coast Highway.
We will stop when we feel like it.
posted by FLAMINGO1 at 12:43 PM
22 Comments:
Somehow it feels like there should be more to the story. What colour was your bandana?
Shall I revise it to describe my bandana?
This is just the beginning. This is based on an excerpt from my journal. I kept a journal of the trip. I am sensing that you didn't find it interesting or fulfilling...but then again, you liked Matrix 3 - the Disappointment.
Are you going to be sharing your whole trip?
I think that you should. Did you get any pictures of my couch? I would also like to see some pictures of Chunk pop up on here!!
There, I corrected the deficiencies regarding the color of the bandana. You'll not get me to use your unconventional British/Canadian spellings. At some point there will be a "u" shortage - I'll do my part to conserve now.
Bloodgood, I don't know if I will share the whole trip. It sounds as if Garrett is already disappointed in the content. If I start sharing the details of my ride through Indio, I am certain to lose him.
Hey, Garrett, how's Game? Did you pick them up at the airport today? Was his hair fabulous?
I think you should share a little more. You cant just give a good opener like that and not give the people more. Plus I saw your pictures from that trip and they are wonderful. That trip was so cool, I dream about doing that ride. I plan on doing it when I up grade from scooter status.
let's hope you stop when you want to and not when FLMNG1 decides to spit another dummy...
Amen Jane!! FLMNG1 is still in the shop. My new tires have not yet been delivered. I expect to have FLMNG1 back on Monday.
It is supposed to be 80 this weekend. Sure would like to go for a ride.
FLMG- I put the live TV thing on my blog. Can you see me?
Do tell more, I like a good story. JW
I like all the rules, especially #1.
Since I am not as glamorous as your doer status Pinky, I say you come pick me up while I dream of the surprise you have in store for me. That should make for a very interesting and fulfiling ending.
We can even do a sequal, double over. And I am quite confident that it will be much better than the matrices. In fact, it would be incomparable.
I loved it. I didn't find it fulfilling because it ain't over.
In my experience it is polite to announce "Part 1" or something indicating that it's a series.
Otherwise you have to catch shit from pains in the ass like me.
As long as we know it's not over pinky...
A. Whenever I read a post that says Part 1 - I stop reading it. I just assumed that everyone else lacked commitment in the same manner as I do.
B. I intentionally left it there because I wanted the reader to want to know more. What happens next? I thought it created the same sort of anticipation that I felt when I packed my bike and hit the highway that morning.
C. I think I am going to continue this - but as stated above - I lack commitment. More important to me is that I don't want it to suck. I don't want to fall into the mundane. My journal is mostly filled with dry facts and I am recreating the mood and feel of the ride based on those facts.
I do have some good stories to tell from that ride and I will certainly hit those highlights.
No one should ever question Pinky. He is a god and should be paid for simply existing. And it appears on Erin O'Briens post today that he certainly knows how to use his tongue.
I think I have mentioned this before. Please people, pay attention!
OK who pretended to be Peter Fonda and who was Dennis Hopper? Did you guys pop any acid at the end of your journey? Has the west been changed in a way that it will never be the same again? Let me know I'm stuck in Iowa and I need to live vicariously through others? I'm going through south west withdrawls, I miss it out there and I miss you guys:(
Dorian, we changed the West in so many ways - from skid marks to gay bars to pining waitresses - the West will never be the same.
Please feel free to pay me for existing. Checks can be made out to Flamingo1. Cash is preferred because then Big Brother doesn't need to know.
Sorry no money can be afforded at this time, I am but a poor school kid, maybe after I publish my first novel or something.
Do I have to meet you in Moosejaw to give you the money, Pinky?
One day I'll get a bike that isn't prone to tantrums, has all it's parts intact and goes faster than 55mph (not that I'd know because the speedo broke) and then I'll contemplate a road trip.
I'd like to read more about your trip. I think it would be really kick ass.
Screw it, I'm letting it all out. Hear me roar!!!
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