In Kingston Town

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c4i8s3QCSEw

Kingston, Ontario was not on my original list of cities to visit. But I ended up spending four nights in the vicinity.

I spent the rest of that stormy night in the hotel, and woke up in the morning to sunny skies and birds chirping outside of my window. (Okay, I don't actually remember if there were birds, but I'm trying to create a certain ambience.) I checked out with the front desk, and apologized to the hotel staff for all the dirt I had left on the floor of my room (mud turns into dirt when it dries). I then rode my bike over to Tony's Cycle. They let me know it was going to take at least a couple of days to get the part in, and they didn't have an opening to work on my bike until Friday. I didn't have any other options, so I left the bike and through my saddlebags over my shoulders and made my way to the rendezvous point I had arranged with my CouchSurfing hosts.

Harry had told me I would recognize him by his camouflaged Tim Horton's cap, but he saw me first. I was easy to spot-- the guy who looked like a stranded traveler, sitting next to motorcycle saddlebags. Harry was an interesting guy. He had spent much of his adult life in the Canadian military, and then got into international contracting. He spent seven years travelling back and forth between Canada and Madagascar. We chatted in the hour it took to get to their place in a small little country town called Marlbank. Harry explained that Marlbank isn't really big enough to be called a "town." Barb was working during the day, so I met her that evening. They told me about their travels and life in Ontario. They took care of all of my meals for the next two days and Harry let me tag along with him to run errands. It was nice to have some downtime. I got to relax and read, and even went on a long hike through Harry and Barb's property. I am so thankful for the way this couple reached out to me when I was in need.

I decided to try and find a CouchSurfer back in Kingston on Thursday night so that I could leave ASAP on Friday, if my bike were finished early. I stayed with a guy named Graham, a graduate student at a local university. Graham had once gone to Kenya with plans to teach there, but ended up helping lead a building project for a school (he has a degree in civil engineering). He made me dinner and then took me to trivia night with some friends at a local bar. Kingston is a really cool and beautiful city in the summer. I really enjoyed meeting Graham and wished I could have stayed more than one night.

The next morning, my bike was finished in the morning. The shop had replaced my front right handlebar and the brake lever on the same side. Total cost for the repairs came out at about $150, and I was SUPER happy about that. I was prepared for something much worse.

I hadn't been on my bike for several days, and I appreciate the break. But I was about to log some serious hours of riding. I rode from Kingston, Ontario through AWFUL traffic in Toronto, to Detroit and then to Kalamazoo, MI. My host in Kalamazoo had told me I could wake him up whenever I got in. I arrived around 2am after riding about 550 miles. I met my hosts chatted for a little while and then slept on the couch, and woke up around 8am. My host's roommate made us breakfast and then I hit the road again. That was the record for my shortest couchsurfing stay. Approximately 7 hours.

I think it was about noon in Downtown Chicago when my bike started to overheat. I couldn't believe it. WHAT NEXT?! I was in bumper to bumper traffic, which wasn't helping matters. I went to a gas station and bought some distilled water to put in the radiator. It kept overheating. I then pulled over and used the internet at a Caribou Coffee to try and find a motorcycle shop, to no avail. I bought some at a grocery store and filled up the coolant container to the fill line. Better, but still really hot. This was NOT good.

I stopped several times to let the bike cool and kept heading north. At a certain point I-94 and HW 41 separate, just north of Chicago. It occurred to me that there might be a bike shop on 41, so I went that way. And sure enough, ten minutes later I pulled up to the GenX Performance shop in Highland Park, just as the employees were heading to their cars after closing the shop. I had arrived 15 minutes after closing. The mechanics, Jon, Josie, and Gres responded with encouragement and smiles when I told them my problem. They said they would be glad to help me out. The reopened the garage and went right to work. They explained that I had put coolant in the reserve and needed to put it directly into the radiator. They went ahead and drained my coolant since I had put water in, and filled it with their own coolant from the store. They checked out other things on the bike, and said I should be good to go. It took maybe 15 minutes. I asked what I owed them, and Jon said, "How's ten bucks sound?" Ten bucks sounded AMAZING.

The mechanics wished me well, and I headed North on my bike toward Kenosha, a place I used to live but hadn't returned to in almost ten years...

Sometimes Things Don't Go According to Plan

When I left Montréal and entered Ontario, the weather forecast predicted some light scattered showers along my route. There was a 30% chance of precipitation. Unfortunately, I was instead confronted with a steady stream of H20 for the first half of the day's journey. And I only made it through the first half of the journey.

I kept stopping and waiting for the rain to pass, and slowly progressed toward my destination. It was getting later and later, and I started to realize that I might not be able to arrive before nightfall. I saw that a city named Kingston was about halfway to Peterborough, and might be an alternate place to stop. I wrote a message on the Kingston CouchSurfing discussion board, and sent some requests, to see if I could find a last minute host in that city. I wasn't sure that it was a good idea to keep riding. When I hadn’t received any replies before I reached Kingston, I decided it was time to call a hotel for the night.

“Hi,” I told the receptionist. “I was wondering how much a room would be for the night.”

“We don’t have any rooms available, sorry,” she told me.

I hung up and called another hotel.

“Impossible,” the man responded. “No rooms tonight.”

I couldn't believe it. Without any place to stay I figured I’d just have to press on toward Peterborough. And I would have done so, except that when I accelerated onto the curved on-ramp of the King’s Highway, I went a bit too fast, and next thing I knew, my bike was lying in the mud on the side of the road.

A couple in a car behind me had stopped and called out the window to see if I needed a ride. I picked up the motorcycle and asked them to stay for a few minutes if they could. I figured the engine was flooded but it might start again in a minute. When it started I waved them ahead, and got on the bike. The right handlebar was bent forward in a bad way, and I had cracked the front fairing, but I could still drive okay. I got off at the next exit and saw a Motel 6. I entered the hotel, dripping wet, with mud on my boots and rain suit.

“Is there any chance you guys have a room available tonight?” I asked, with a pathetic desperation in my voice.

“Nope, no rooms tonight!” the receptionist replied. But when she saw my devastated face, she quickly said, “Oh no, sorry, I was just joking. We definitely have a room. No problem.”

I paid for the room and they gave me the key card. I asked for a towel to wipe the mud off myself and my saddlebags before I headed for the room. Upon entering my room, I changed out of my wet clothes laid down on the bed and cried.

I think it was just the vast change of emotion that affected me so much. I had been on such a high— I loved Quebec. And this was quite a fall from that height of joy. I needed to release some of the emotion I was feeling. I didn’t know if my bike would even start up again in the morning, or if I’d be able to repair it. I might have to pay for a hotel for days, if I could find a mechanic in Kingston. And how would I make it to camp in Minnesota, and the AP workshop in Kansas if I were not able to repair the bike? I also wasn't sure I ever wanted to ride again. I was angry and embarrassed. My emotions and thoughts got the best of me.

But then, after I took a shower, I was fortunate to find my girlfriend available online for the evening. We talked for a while. She encouraged me and kept me company on Skype while I tried to figure out my business for the coming days. I felt better after that. I got things back in perspective.

Things could have definitely been worse. I had been very fortunate to find a hotel with rooms at the first exit after my wreck. Then, a quick look at Google showed me that the nearest Kawasaki Shop was about five miles away. I could take it into the shop the next morning. And best of all, a CouchSurfing couple in a nearby city offered to host me until my bike was repaired.

Maybe my trip was not ruined after all.

Je Me Souviens…

My bike and I survived that storm and late in the evening I pulled into a parking spot in front the apartment of my CouchSurfing hosts in Montréal. My hosts, Audrey and Marianne, had spent nine months in Latin America in the past year. They seemed really cool. That night, Marianne loaned me her bicycle and I went with Audrey to a party at a friend’s house. I met some really awesome people there, and really enjoyed myself. We stayed out until 3:30am before returning home to go to bed.

Audrey called into work and took me out to see some of the city. We visited a cool café and then saw a movie (Le Bruit de Glaçons) in French at the Cinéma Beaubien. There were no subtitles but I think I followed along pretty well. Then she took me Marché Jean-Talon, a farmer’s market of sorts. We had some Tunisian food there and then returned home.


It was the first time in about four years I had been in a country where neither English nor Spanish was spoken. I experienced a little language/culture shock as I worked on communicating in French. Actually, that first night I got lost in Montréal and had to find some directions. It was a little difficult until I realized the trick: the younger a person is the more likely he or she is to speak English. I can understand lots of French that I read, some of what I hear, and I’m pretty rusty when it comes to communicating. But the Québecois were really patient and kind when I tried. In one restaurant, when I apologized for my bad French, a lady told me, “No, you’re French is very good. It’s better than my English!”

With my hosts, I spoke in Spanish and English, and asked them over and over how to say things in French. I now have a renewed interest in the language, and I think I’ll try to brush up before I head to Paris next fall.

That evening, Audrey had to work but Marianne cooked me a delicious dinner and then led me downtown for the first night of a free summer music festival called, Francofolie. I rented a Bixi for the night, as Audrey had taken her bike to work. I enjoyed riding through the city. The bike paths led us down city streets and through parks. A classic Quebecoise pop singer, Marjo, was playing at the festival and she was joined by some other current pop stars. She’s more than a little past her prime, but it was definitely a fun cultural experience. I left my camera at home but here’s a link to a clip I found of the concert: http://youtu.be/wDwStomdVYM

The next morning I left Montreal and headed for Québéc City. Along the way, I stopped and tried some Poutine at a place called Benny & Co. Poutine is a regional comfort food of sorts. It consists of fries and topped with gravy and lumpy white cheese. Those are the basics, but restaurants serve them in all sorts of ways, adding bacon, sausage, veggies, and more on top. I got mine with chicken at Benny & Co.

I arrived at my host home in Quebec in the early evening. I met my hosts, Alexandre and Gabrielle, and also Gabrielle’s brother Emile. They were super welcoming and suggested we go do a barbecue in a local park. We put both parts of the barbecue grill in my saddlebags, and I carried some charcoal in my backpack. I left for the park on my motorcycle, and my hosts arrived not too much later by bicycle.

The following day, Emile had to work but Gabrielle and Alexandre had time to show me around some Quebec. They took me to the old city and many other interesting sites, telling me about the city history and culture as we went along. We shared some pizza in a park in the afternoon. It was a beautiful day.



That evening, my hosts prepared dinner and we had some good laughs and conversation. Then they joined me later for a couple of drinks at a really interesting local bar, Le Sacrilége. The bar had a small patio with stone walls on each side and trees that had carvings in them.

The next day, I headed back to Montreal for one more night where I was hosted by a really kind and friendly guy from Belgium, Grégoire. We went to the Montreal World Beer Festival (Mondial de la Bière) with a friend of his, Geneviève. The festival took place in an underground gallery hall that connected to the subway system. I sampled some beers from around the world, and also ate an assortment of French cheeses. We also caught part of a Canadian battle of the bands.


Then we went out to walk through a beautiful park on our way to find some more poutine.


Grégoire explained that this restaurant, La Banquise, was supposed to be the best place for poutine in the world. I ordered some with mushrooms, peppers, and onions on top.

I got some good rest that night, and met up with Audrey one more time for some delicious coffee in Little Italy before I headed for Ontario.

I absolutely loved Québec and didn’t want to leave. It was beautiful, and I loved the energy there. Maybe the city was super alive because it’s so cold for so much of the year, and the people are just invigorated by the warmth and sunshine. I thoroughly enjoyed myself there and I’d love to spend a summer there in the future

Un Voyage Inoubliable

My trip from Portland, ME to Montreal, Quebec a couple of days ago is going to remain in my memory for a long time.

I headed northwest from Portland and soon entered the White Mountains of New Hampshire. It was a beautiful sunny day, and the views were fantastic. By far the best riding I've had on this trip, or really ever! The roads wound around the mountains, lakes, and rivers and were lots of fun. I'm sure my pictures won't do it justice, but I'll include some here.










When I crossed the border into Canada, I had to go in and talk to a customs officer.

"And where will you stay while you're making your trip?"

"With friends," I replied. "Or well, I'm part of this network of travellers..."

"So you are Couchsurfing?"

"Uh yes, actually. You are familiar with it?"

"Yes, I've done it a fair bit... well, you're all set. Have a nice trip!"

I had never imagined that the customs officer would be a CSer.

I went on into Canada, and had to start doing kilometer to mile conversion in my head for the speed limits. Determination: Candians speed! In a typical 100km zone, it would be 62mph. But when I go 70mph most cars seem to zoom right past me! Oh well, I go slower than traffic. I don't want to get a ticket in another country where I don't speak the language.

Come to think of it, I think this is the first time I have ever driven in a foreign country. It's interesting, especially since all the signage is in French, on top of the whole metric system thing.

It has been four years since I was last in a country where I could not speak the language. The Canadians seem to be really nice and helpful in general, but I've had a little bit of language/culture shock. My French is soooo bad. I manage okay, and at least I can read signs and understand the gist of what people say, usually, but I have definitely been inspired to work on my French. I had forgotten how difficult and can be to do simple things like ask for directions or order food. It's probably a good reminder for me as a Spanish teacher.

In any case, back to the whole road trip to Canada thing...

Maybe an hour into Canada, and I saw what appeared to be clouds and rainfall in the distance. As I got closer I felt some rain drops, and put on my rain suit. The rain wasn't bad though, just a light afternoon shower and I would have been comfortable even without my rain gear.

Twenty minutes or so later I saw what I thought was more rain in the distance. I wasn't worried, and was already prepared with the proper outerwear. But as I got closer, I realized that what I thought was rain was in fact dust being thrown about by the wind. As I continued the winds got even stronger picking up more dirt and dust from the farmlands on either side. Despite the lack of rain, lightning and thunder started to appear in the distance. Soon, lots of bugs started flying into my visor. And just to add to the apocalyptic aura of the moment, the sun was setting, casting an eerie orange glow from the horizon.

The wind was gusting ferociously. When I encountered winds in New Jersey and Rhode Island, the Weather Channel said that they were 25-35 mph gusts. With that in mind, I would estimate that these winds were getting up to 50 miles an hour. I was nervous, but focused, leaning into the wind to compensate for the pressure. I was very glad that the week before I had looked up techniques for riding in the wind. I don't know how long I went like this, but I couldn't find a place to safely pull over. But then I saw an exit sign that indicated places to eat. I was very happy to see that sign. I exited the freeway and pulled into the parking lot of a Tim Horton's/Cold Stone combo, grabbed my saddlebags and entered. Not two minutes later the rain hit in a torrential downpour. It looked like a tropical storm outside.



I was worried that my bike might be pushed over, but there was nothing I could do. I was so glad I had decided to bring in my saddlebags. Not long after the rain arrived, the power went out and remained out for probably ten minutes. At one point, a man headed toward the door to leave, and when he opened the door it flew open and he had trouble pulling it shut again. He wouldn't be going anywhere for a while.

In the end, I stayed at the Tim Horton's for about forty-five minutes and waited for the weather to pass. There was some light rain still when I headed out, but nothing compared to what I had seen an hour earlier.

Another hour or so and I pulled up outside the apartment of my CouchSurfing hosts in Montreal. I was glad to have made it there safe and sound. I had dry luggage and both my body and motorcycle were in one piece.

Definitely a ride I won't be forgetting for a long long time.

The Other Portland

Before making this trip, I really hadn't understood just how close so many major cities are to each other in the northeast. Just an hour from Providence to Boston, and less than two hours from Boston to Portland.

I arrived in Portland around 6pm, and the weather was perfect when I arrived. Sunny and 68° with a breeze. My hosts welcomed me and let me know that they had friends coming over to play bluegrass music. We had a great night hanging out in their yard, playing music, talking, and laughing.



The next day, I had breakfast at a Cajun restaurant and did some laundry in the morning. Then I took the scenic route to visit those friends of my cousin, whom I will now refer to as my friends and to whom my license plate had been delivered. Along the way I saw some of the beautiful coastline, and visited the "Head Light," a famous lighthouse commissioned by George Washington.







I spent the afternoon in good conversation with my friends in Biddeford, ME, then SECURELY attached my license plate and went to have some lobster dinner at Gilbert's (per the recommendation of my friends) before joining my hosts for a bonfire with even more musicians.







I really enjoyed Portland, ME. I found it had a similar vibe to Portland, OR but it was smaller and chill. The weather was amazing... I kept having to tell myself that it's not like that all year long!

And the next morning morning I packed my bags and I was off for Canada!

The Best of Times - The Worst of Times

Well, where to even start?

I have an all new appreciation for the New England area. It’s absolutely beautiful in the summer, maybe even enough to make winters there worth it. And although the accent didn’t fall kindly on my southern ears at first, I got used to it… I even find it somewhat endearing now.

My hosts in Kingston, RI were fantastic. They were beyond generous treating me to a dinner of authentic Rhode Island Chowder, Dough Boys, and Clam Cakes, and also a breakfast at the local donut shop, Honey Dew. We also shared some refreshing frozen lemonade at Del's. We took a walk on the beach that night, and I enjoyed their company along with the crisp ocean air. Oh, and my hosts were friends, of a friend, of a friend of my cousin’s. Great folks.

So then I was Boston-bound. I stayed with an awesome CouchSurfer in Arlington. He and I have a lot of common interests—he even told his parents he wanted to quit high school and study on his own, and did so, much like I did!



That evening we went to a Greek festival for dinner (see photo) and got to know each other. I then tagged along to a party with a bunch of my host’s friends from around the world. It was lots of fun… but the fun would soon come to an end.
I left the party early on my motorcycle because I had to get up early for my advanced motorcycle safety course. And about five minutes on the road, I saw the blue lights in my rear view mirrors. I pulled over, very glad to be completely sober but wondering what I could have done.

“Good evening sir, where you headed?” the officer asked.

“I’m going back to my friend’s house,” I explained.

“Where does he live?”

“Near Gray and Irving,” I told him.

“Well, you’re going the wrong direction. Irving’s back that way,” he said, motioning with his hand. “But can you tell me why you’re driving without a license plate?”

“I’m sorry?! Oh no, I had no idea,” I responded, showing my sincere distress but trying to make sure it didn’t seem contrived. “It must have been stolen or fallen off. I can give you my license and registration.”

“That would be good,” he said, matter-of-factly.

And it would have been good… except that I had left my registration in my saddlebags at the house. I was sure I was going to jail, but then I found my insurance card and in the end that was enough. He let me go.

But that was not the last cop I saw in Boston. Unfortunately.

The next morning on the way to my driving course at 8am, there was nobody on the road except for me. And a cop with a quota to fill. I saw him at a rotary (roundabout) and I entered it in front of him. Guess that was dumb, but I didn’t want to look like I was trying to avoid him. He followed me for a minute or so and then pulled me over. After 15 minutes checking my registration, he came back and gave me a $100 ticket for “not yielding.” When I deserve a ticket, I’ll own up to it. I don’t know if I have ever received a ticket that I didn’t realize I deserved. But this one was bogus… I think he had wasted 20 minutes and didn’t want to leave empty-handed.

So, now I was in the hole $100. Checking my rear-view mirror every ten seconds, and trying to think of an alternate route to camp since I might not be able to go through Canada.

At least I had something fun to do for the day. I really enjoyed doing a refresher on my motorcycle skills. I was able to smooth out some bad habits that I had developed and correct an error that I believe caused the spill I had on my bike a couple of months ago. I also got to develop my current skills, and had some serious fun working the cornering activities. I had never leaned so hard that I hit the foot pegs, but I did that a number of times on the course. Oh, and that’s totally safe, by the way. I managed the corners accurately and effectively.



I enjoyed the class and the guys I took it with. Everyone had a great positive attitude, and the instructors were great. And we had beautiful weather to top it off.

That night, my host took me out around Cambridge and showed me Harvard, and some touristy things. It was fun. I loved the city. We had dinner at a Vietnamese Restaurant, it was lots of fun.

The next morning I called up the Georgia DMV, and discovered that I could get a friend to pick up my new license plate. A cry for help on facebook was successful and a friend of mine went to the DMV and overnighted my new license plate to that friend of my cousin’s in Bitteford, ME. I got in touch with my CouchSurfing host in Portland, ME and he said it would be cool to stay two nights.

I had been pretty stressed and worried about the license plate thing, but now I had hope of a solution and I was on my way to Maine.

Garden State

So, I spent a couple of days in Baltimore and enjoyed my time with my buddy Sean. I'll be seeing him again in a few weeks at camp, 'cause he will be teaching Spanish with me there. This is a photo from Fells Point in Baltimore:



It looks like I left the heat in Maryland, but what I thought was going to be a comfortable easy ride to West Milford, New Jersey became quite difficult due to 25-35 mile an hour winds. My little Ninja 250 is fairly light, so the wind can move her around fairly easily. After going through Philly and Trenton, holding tightly to the handlebars and gritting my teeth, I pulled over to look into some techniques for riding in the wind. For me "relax" was the best advice I found. If you just let the wind move you a bit and loosen your grip, you can flow through it a little better.

In any case, when I started riding through Princeton, and then more rural New Jersey I realized that the picture I had in my head of this state was not at all accurate. As Bill, one of my hosts told me later, "Most people seem to think of gangsters or that new show Jersey Shores when they think of New Jersey." I had more of an urban type gangster image of the state in my mind. But no, New Jersey is beautiful. And in West Milford, you would never guess that you were just an hour away from Manhattan.

I pulled up to the mountain house, just as Bill was getting home from work. I brought my stuff in and he suggested we get right to repairing my bike. See, I had done a "repair" of my left turning signal, but was unable to do it 100% correctly because I didn't have a soldering iron. And, with all the shaking on the road trip, my wiring came undone, of course. But on Bill's CouchSurfing profile he said, "I like books on how things work, and how to repair them when they don't." So I thought maybe he would be able to help me. I wrote him and he said he'd be glad to. And I have a left turn signal again!

I then helped Bill work on a patio he's adding to a rental property across the street before going in for a delicious dinner that Edna had prepared (fried chicken, asparagus, rice, applesauce). We ate in their sun room/dining area where I was able to look out at the lake and the mountains.

We talked late into the night about life, work, and family. Bill is basically in charge of all kinds of maintenance for their township. In his spare time he likes to learn about weird and random topics and enjoys building and repairing things. Edna is a preschool teacher and has been for almost thirty years. They have two daughters who are grown. They told me about some of their travels in their camper, and about their experiences with CouchSurfing. They've hosted lots of people and even families.

Bill had to go in early in the morning, so I saw him last on Wednesday night. In the morning when I got up, Edna made me coffee and french toast, and packed me a lunch for the road. We chatted for a couple of hours and then I headed out on my way to Rhode Island.

Below you can see a view from my room and a picture of Edna. (It didn't occur to me to take a photo until the morning after Bill had left but you can see his CS profile here: http://www.couchsurfing.org/profile.html?id=AY9XLC0 )

Nice Bike!

It's really funny to see the way people react when they see me on the motorcycle. They smile and wave, and grab their children and point to me. Children will just stare at me, mesmerized when I walk by them in my gear at a gas station. Women look at me out of the corner of their eye, and giggle with their friends. I kinda feel like a super hero or something. I would say that people treat me in a way that's at least twice as positive whenever I'm out on my motorcycle.

And almost everyone says the same thing when they drum up the courage to talk to this travelling two-wheeled hero. "Nice bike!" they say. Everyone says "Nice bike." I've probably heard that phrase thirty times in three days of travelling. It's really funny, 'cause my bike isn't really that nice. It's kinda small, has lots of scrapes, burns, bangs and bruises, and electrical tape on the turn signals.

I sometimes think that when they say "nice bike" they mean to say, "You have a bike!" But that would be weird, just a statement of the obvious. Kinda like if I responded with, "You have an arm!" Really, most of the people that say this wouldn't know a "nice bike" if they were riding one. People who know about bikes say things like, "Nice day for a ride, no?" and "What's the RPM when you are on the interstate?" and "My brother has a Ninja, but it's a 500cc. Do you like the 250?"

Yet now that I think about it, it's interesting that even those guys that know about motorcycles come up and talk to me. I mean, if a guy pulls up next to me in an Acura Integra at a gas station, I don't say, "Nice car! I used to have an Integra years ago, I bet she takes those mountain turns really well, doesn't she?" I just go about my business. Yet motorcyclists have this sort of community... I may post more on that another day.

I feel like the "Nice bike!' thing is an interesting social phenomena. Something about a motorcycle inspires people to step out of their comfort zone and meet a stranger. And I guess that's kinda cool. I'm the kind of person that will say hi to strangers in almost any situation, but with the motorcycle, others seem to beat me to the punch.

I like travelling solo, but at least whenever I pull over on the motorcycle I am never without someone to talk to.

So, next time you see someone at the gas station, filling up their motorcycle, just call out, "Hey man! Nice bike!" He'll understand that you just mean, "Hey man! You have a bike!" And he'll probably appreciate the hello.

Meet Virginia

Today’s ride was beautiful.

I got on the road a little after 8:30 so things were a little cooler. I might shoot for an even earlier departure time in the future. Today is a long ride, over five hours, so I’m still going to be riding in the heat for a while. Regardless of the heat I start getting uncomfortable after a couple of hours of riding, so I take breaks about that often.

Yesterday afternoon after spending some time at a coffee shop, I had some time to just chill and read, write, and walk in a park near the reservoir in Greensboro.

I really enjoyed my time with my CouchSurfing host Casey and her friends last night. CouchSurfers are so diverse, but there are these traits that I find common to so many of them: open-mindedness, enthusiasm, joy, generosity, trust, optimism, curiosity. My experience last night was no exception. I posted on facebook that, “I don’t think anything feels quite so much like ‘coming home’ for me as CouchSurfing.” It’s just that when I am staying with CSers like Casey, there’s this since of familiarity even though they’re strangers that I’m staying with, and I’ve never been in their home (and sometimes even city) before. Maybe because at this point in my life I’ve spent the night in the homes of probably 200 strangers and it just seems normal. Staying with CouchSurfers for me, is often like a reunion with an old friend.

Travel. Meeting new people. New places. It’s so invigorating and makes me feel so alive. No disappointments yet.

I have left the somewhat flat and straight roads of Georgia and the Carolinas and I’m now driving in the Appalachians in Virgina. I love it. I’ve also left the interstate, so I’m getting to see some of the communities that I’m driving through. The mountains are beautiful.

Well, should probably get back on the road. Not sure if I’m going to make it through D.C. before rush hour. If it starts before I get there, I’ll probably just pull over and chill until it has passed, and then head for Baltimore.

My Cup of Tea

“There’s an old analogy to a cup of tea. If you want to drink new tea you have to get rid of the old tea that’s in your cup, otherwise your cup just overflows and you get a wet mess. Your head is like that cup. It has a limited capacity and if you want to learn something about the world you should keep your head empty in order to learn it. It’s very easy to spend your whole life swishing old tea around in your cup thinking it’s great stuff because you’ve never really tried anything new…”

- From Lila by Robert M. Pirsig

I stopped for a cup of coffee this morning and something to eat after an hour or so of riding. I decided to get in a little bit of Pirsig in before going to my next stop. He’s so good for making me slow down, reflect, and evaluate. Take in the moment.

I really connect with the quote above. I have emptied my cup more or less a lot of times. Emptied my beliefs. Emptied my perspective. I’ve even tried to empty my language at times. It occurred to me that if you don’t empty your cup, not only can you not have another cup of tea, but you are also kept from trying some coffee — egg nog — cider — or whatever else you could put in that cup. And you might not ever even take the time to see if something else exists.

I’m about an hour or so outside of Charlotte. I have to pass through Charlotte to get to Greensboro. I’m having coffee or lunch with a CSer there in the afternoon, as my host will be getting into town later this evening.

I think I should work on getting up and on the road earlier to beat the heat. It feels like it’s going to be a hot ride today.

Emptied my stuff. — I got rid of a bunch of my belongings and junk before I left the rest at a friend’s house for the summer. I guess I don’t have that much– it all fit in my friend’s two door Honda Accord. But still, at least for a couple of months I don’t have to worry about my stuff. I’ve just got my motorcycle, and the contents of my backpack and my saddlebags. And I’ve emptied myself of all that other junk for a while and it makes me feel a little more free.

Well, time to get back on the road so I can beat some of the heat. At least I am heading north, so things should be getting cooler, theoretically.