A word about my dear friend and ex-husband, Mikey:  We’ve chosen to go down some very unique roads together.  Whether in a truck or on motorcycles, at a roadside motel or in a two man tent, next to a rattling window air conditioner or a crackling campfire, in beautiful sunshine or downpours of rain and hail, up gorgeous mountains and down intimidating switchbacks, our friendship has proven to be resilient and enduring.  It was always the best part of “us” and it was worth caring about and saving.  I am extremely thankful that he has and will always be there for me, no matter which direction I choose.  I’m grateful for every adventure we have taken together.

Diane and I have had plenty of time to talk this trip.   Surprisingly, perhaps, we’ve talked relatively little about our marriage and our friendship.  The sum total there, as far as I can tell, is that we’ve always loved and respected each other.   That’s really never changed.  Our friendship remains one of the most precious parts of my life. 

Instead, we’ve talked a lot about ideas, some of which we shared this last month.   One in particular seems like a fitting way to close my contribution to this blog.  

The Ripple Effect:  It’s the long term consequences of your choices and actions on other people’s choices and actions.   For most of us, it’s the most powerful tool we have to change the world.   Your everyday decisions and actions affect others’ everyday decisions and actions.   And, for the most part, that’s how things change for better or worse.  

I think this idea is worthy of a final post, not only because it’s important, but because Diane’s ripple is wide and deep.    And it’s good.   

I’ve seen her say a word, place a hand or give a smile in way that has changed  a situation from bad to good.  She does it all the time.   

“If you turn me into a good person,”  I once told her, “I will hate you forever.”    I’m not sure if she succeeded, but I know that I’m a better person because of Diane.   And I’m one of many, many people who have learned from her and passed  it on, wittingly or no.   

So, as a final thought, thanks to all of you who came along for the ride.  We had a tremendous time, in part because we felt like you were with us.   

And thank you, Diane, for having the courage and strength to tend to our friendship rather than  letting it pass away.    The way you see the world is very special, and I’m grateful to have learned from your angle of vision. 

Hi all.   A quick update while Diane edits pics and we think about how to wrap this puppy up.   

Becca and Chirstopher have been incredibly gracious hosts, providing a home base, top-notch watering hole and built-in biker gang for the final leg.   Some great camping and a full moon night at the Canyon.  Also, a couple more nasty rides in the rain.   We decided to pull over and pass on the hail.   

The bikes are in the trailer for good, so a sudden demise from this point forward would be fairly unromantic.

Speaking of romance, Diane and I would like to make an announcement: 

Diane and I are getting . . .  

along just fine.  

That’s all.  Pics and final posts soon.  Thanks for hanging with us.   It made things lots of fun on our end.  

This performance air filter was found by Diane A. Cunningham and Rebecca A. Riffle last night in front of the Walgreens on Main St. in Cottonwood, Arizona.  

It is believed that the component belongs to a Harley Davidson softail, based on component design and the fact that 15 pound parts generally do not just “fall off” other brands of motorcycle.  

The photo below may be of the owner and motorcycle, with air filter intact, moments before the incident.    

If you recognize this person, part or motorcycle, please provide relevant information in the comment section below.    

Thank you. 

One of the many things Mike and I have always loved about these road trips is the people we meet along the way. Motorcycles provide an instant connection, excuse or curiosity from people, even non-riders, that opens up real conversations. Where are you coming from?   What roads have you traveled? Where are you headed? 

The best rides are off the beaten path, where you find time-warped towns filled with lovingly cared for little motels, campgrounds, diners or bars, seemingly unaffected by the world at large. A simple “May I join you?” or “Good morning, how are you?”  is an invitation to sit back and hear someone’s story.

Bill and Barbara run the Riverside Ranch in Hatch, Utah, where we spent three nights camped by the Sevier river enjoying the light on the Red Rocks and a night sky filled with so many stars it was humbling. Perfectly situated between Bryce Canyon and Zion, it set us up for two of the most beautiful day rides we have ever done. I had called the office that morning from Colorado and spoke to Bill who encouraged us to come on down and pick a spot. No reservation necessary…if we got there late, just pitch a tent and settle up later. 

The cold woke me up early and I set off the quarter mile to the office in search of hot coffee and a battery charge for the camera. I opened the office door to a smiling Bill and a heartfelt, welcoming “Good morning !” Happy to unplug a lamp and let me charge up, Bill suggested I make a cup of coffee and chat for a bit while I warmed up from sleeping in a tent on a 48 degree night. I sat down and asked Bill how they wound up in a little town in Utah running a campground.

Bill’s story was captivating and beautifully told. A simple life by choice, full of the joy of a loving wife, three children, and grandchildren. There were times of hardship and growth, reinventing himself and his career, travel, outdoor adventure, unexpected opportunities and the courage to take them. The most recent being an invitation to relocate part of the year from their long time home in Michigan to a remote town in Utah helping their daughter and son-in-law turn a dream into a reality.  The kindness, respect and admiration they have for each other made it obvious to me that they have shared a lifetime of experiences, good and bad, and turned it in to a beautiful story that they are still writing.

They are still writing.   They didn’t stop writing, and they could have.   We can all stop writing our stories.  But the difficult times they have been through received no more emphasis in the telling of their tale than the good times. He  was grateful for all of it. Tough times made them stronger and did not define them.  They only added to their story.  

You have a story.   We all have a story.  Never, ever, stop writing your story.  

“You can’t take a lot of baggage on a motorcycle.”    

We knew it.  We said it.   

We overpacked.

Time for a baggage check.  

Baggage we brought that turned out to be essential: Rain gear, cold weather gear, a healthy distrust of Mike’s sense of direction, an awareness that when Diane says “Well, I can’t starve to death,”  the only viable option is a 25 minute wait for a restaurant BLT and a ride in the dark dodging deer and eating insects.  Irony.  

Baggage we brought and used, but probably could have done without:  books other than service manuals,  Diane feeling guilty when Mike is angry that she’s got a better sense of direction, Mike’s resentment regarding Diane’s ability to control the emotional weather for a three mile radius.    

Baggage we packed and didn’t use:   Mike’s running sneakers, Diane’s running sneakers, the pain of divorce.  

In all seriousness, old feelings and old dynamics, both happy and unhappy, but we are traveling light enough to keep up with traffic and get ahead if we pull back on the throttle. 

Canyon bound.  Thanks for coming along.  

Yesterday we raced another 250 miles back to Kathi’s in rain and wind, on freeway and mountain pass. It was hard, and we were exhausted. So we did the obvious thing when we got off our bikes.

 
We went to a rave.
 

Well, sort of. We went to see Savoy and four other EDM acts at Red Rocks Amphitheater. My ex-wife had managed to befriend the drummer on a plane ride to Dallas, and I’ve been into EDM since my first trip to Black Rock City, so we ditched the bikes, hopped in the truck and headed right back down the way we had come. The safety and comfort of the Toyota Tacoma was not lost on us.  

 
Red Rocks is a beautiful place to see any kind of show, but perfect for EDM, which is as much about the lighting and visual stimulation as the thumping. EDM is truly the sugar, salt, fat of music. A distillation of music into the simplest and most appealing components of melody, rhythm and lyric, designed, like the drugs that fuel it, to nail your serotonin receptors pitch perfect, nurture a dependence, and make anything more demanding unbearably dull. Void of nutrition, for the most part, but on any given day I might prefer it to Glenn Gould, Coltrane or Zeppelin. Or kale. 
 
We were, let’s say, older than average. Okay, we did not see one single person, in a sea of 9,000, within twenty years of our age unless they were wearing a badge. 
 
Our tickets, in other words, were a window into a culture in which we are not quite members, much like the motorcycles are on the road. Nobody is really going to confuse us for club kids or Wingmen, but in both cases a genuine shared enthusiasm for what’s at hand, along with the distractions of all the trappings that surround it, can be enough to obscure social differences for long enough to forge a human connection.  
 
When I’m lucky enough to be in these positions, sharing brews with Dusty Bone–a retired trucker from Wyoming who lives at the Saratoga motel he manages–or digging on the bass drop with a 19 year-old club kid with the same first name but a background in pharmacology rather than philosophy, I’m always reminded of how essentially similar we all are. I’m always reminded that much of what I take to be true or important is the sheer accident of time and place. Given a few hundred miles in almost any direction—or thirty years backwards or forwards—my values, my habits and my politics could have been drastically different. 
 
This isn’t to say that you can lump all world views in together as morally equivalent, one as good as the other. They are not.   Some are ill-informed, some well-informed. Some dishonest attempts to manipulate others, some genuine attempts to understand what is true.   Some more fearful and rigid, some more courageous and empathetic. The arc of history, I would insist, is clearly on the side of the latter.
 
But these windows remind me: People are people. And when you put good people in different situations, good people can believe radically different things.
 
The grisly biker and the omni-sexual raver—in so far as they approach their stereotypes– are probably on opposite sides of our culture wars, buy they are not so very different. They want basically the same things for themselves.  They fear, they desire, they love.
 
You don’t need a road trip or a rave to see this, by the way.    The journey inside and the journey outside ultimately lead to the same wisdom: We are fundamentally the same. And we are wise to give, to absorb a little bit, when we hit a culture shock.  

I occasionally have a tough time balancing my heart and my head. My heart runs off full speed into the direction it wants to go leaving my head to run along behind and shout out reasons to the contrary.  

Yesterday we had to make a decision. My heart was set on riding the Million Dollar Highway from Durango to Silverton. It was a highlight of the trip for me and set us up to loop through some of the most beautiful parts of Colorado…… Telluride, Montrose, the Tennessee Pass to Gunnison and Slumgullion Notch.  

Heart covered it’s ears and went straight into denial when the less than ideal weather reports started coming in the night before the ride. Ever hopeful and optimistic, heart got up early loaded the bike and threw on full gear. Ready!

Did I mention that ex-hubby is just the opposite? His head has much more leverage in situations where emotions run high. Knowing how much this ride meant to me, and knowing how hard it can be to reason with my heart once it runs off, he agreed to hit the road to Durango and make the call there. 

 
I took the 45 miles to Durango and lassoed heart back into reality. Severe thunderstorms on the top of a mountain that is only accessible by one of the most dangerous highways in the country….even my exuberant, optimistic heart had to slow down and listen.

Mike made the difficult but wise call to head east and outride the thunderstorms that will stay in the area for the next three days. He hates to disappoint heart, so offered the possibility of grabbing the truck and trailer and heading back to Durango on our way to AZ. 

 The great thing about heart, is that it is resilient and only needs a little hope to let go and start again.
MM of the day:

Motorcycles require balance.  Not just the  physical balance required to keep a 500 pound machine on two wheels shiny side up.  Riding motorcycles requires a balance between the heart and the mind, between feeling and reason.  These two characters don’t always get along so well, but when they learn to live with each other it can make for one sweet ride.