“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.