Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Futility is easily forgotten running full speed.

72 mach 1 mustang in the carport of the empty house in GA

                                            gas station wall in Harlem, GA made out of stucco and seashells
I made myself stand and heard Emmy Jo squealing in the her room. Little girl always wants her mama early in the morning. Slowly but surely the dayts oredererd themselves out behind me in red concrete and the wraiths of the future made themselves known. I stared at the curtained window and felt myself awake. I've never packed a single bag for a cross-country ride on a motorcycle before , so I took a moment to focus on the task before me. I've also never be one to prepare for the worst, yet I didn't want to need that ONE tool to keep rolling. At the house back in Richmond, I'd hastily seperated my tools as necessary and unecessary and now I felt the need to do it again. Over the last ten days, I've had to consider the importance of every single item I own, and now I was upon the final filter. I collected all of the things out of Joe's truck and arrange dthem around their dinner table. I then emptied all of the mess out of my bookbag that had tagged along in the last ten years that I'd owned it. 4 toothbrushes, 3 spoons, a set of chattering gag teeth, a bag of smoke bombs, a sling I made in the Netherlands for my broken hand, a dried-berry leopard fang necklace, and a variety of other notions. One by one I filled the pockets as such:

A:   spark plug gappers
      2 quarters
      lubricating tool
       nail clippers
      fang necklace
      vaccuum caps
      extra fuses
      retractable mirror
      electrical tape

B:   allen key
       allen wrench set
      gasket sealant
      fuel line
      electrical wire
      hose clamps
      smoke bombs
      terminal kit
      valve clearance tool
      carb driver
      wire clamper/cutter
       wire brush

C:      3 philliips heads of varied sizes
          2 flatheads of varied sizes
          angle driver
          channel locks
          pressure gauge
          ratchet extension

D:       maglite
          wrench set
          spark plug socket set
          socket set
          yamaha manual
          3 t shirts
          1 collar shirt
           2 pairs colorful underwear
           3 pairs socks
            neck sock
            first aid kit

E:      deodorant

As I was picking over all my mess, Joe and his family finished their dreams and joined me. Emmy Jo was flashing her get-anything smile, Elliot was absorbed in some colors, and Erica cleaned up the kitchen and made some gravy and biscuits. We ate and hugged and kissed and the last thing I heard as I pulled away was Elliot yelling "Goodbye, Uncle John!"     Over at my folks' I had a cup of coffee and sat in their recliner until I was drowsy. They're the best I could ever ask for and they make it apparent every time I'm around them. More hugs and kisses and I headed down the road. The speedometer on Josie had always been iffy, but yesterday it shit the bed. It went wonky heading down 17 and the needle broke itself off. I investigated the cable with my dad and feel fairly certain that I at least need a new cable, probably need to replace the whole thing. Another piece waiting on me in Austin. The result of all this is that I can't tell how fast I'm going other than to base it on the ol' flow of traffic. No problem. Ive always been good at averages. Right around Columbia on I-20, I finally switched into 5th gear and immediately got the lurch/popping problem that had occurred on the way down from Richmond. This all turned out to be a good thing, because when I stopped to check it out, I filled up with gasoline, and I was almost completely empty even though I was under the impression that I had close to 50 miles left on the odometer. After I got going and compared the mile markers to the odometer, I realized that it was completely unreliable. Looks like I gotta pay attention to distance and time. I always found it incredibly endearing that Josie had no sense of place. She knew no road names, and had to go somewhere a dozen times to be able to return there again. She would get so frustrated driving and I always thought it was so charming. It worked well because I'm quite the fan of being lost because it opens up your day into the realm of mystery, although my laughter did encourage her frustration on occasion. Josie was never upset for long though, 10 minutes was usually her maximum for negative emotions, and then she'd be back to smiling and that darling laugh of hers in no time. I regret not having a recording of her laugh. I would gladly trade all of the things Ive deemed important for it. Down the road I stopped for a stretch and a leak outside of Madison, GA. I wandered around in the grass, glancing without devotion at the patches of clover, until I did spot one. I hadn't found a four-leaf since all this happened and there right in front of my bike was a 5-leaf. The 4th one I've found, all within the last two months. I debated whether to pick it and decided not to. I took a picture and was suiting back up to ride when I noticed a man and a little boy, 3 or 4, walking towards the parking lot from the bathroom. I quickly walked back over to the patch and began searching for it. I've never had to look for the same one twice and for the first few moments I thought it was contrary, but there it was. The man was in the drivers seat of an SUV parked 20 or 30 yards away and I hurried over before they took off. He rolled down the window with the hand that wasn't holding a sandwich and I told him that I'd found a 5-leaf and thought I'd give it to his son. He said thank you, but the elderly lady in the passengers seat exclaimed how sweet that was and how she just knew thats what I was doing over there. I gave them a quick smile, a small wave, and got my jacket and helmet back on to finish up the 2 hours to Atlanta. I don't know if these roads go far enough.

No comments:

Post a Comment