Not that I don’t like motor bikes, cuz I do.
Not that I don’t like vacations, cuz I do, for sure.
And I really, truly, wanted to check out Nashville, TN, even though I had never watched the TV show Nashville.
Problem is, I didn’t properly link them all together, you know, the vacation, on a motor bike, going to Nashville. Seeing them all bundled together in proper order, it certainly gives me pause for concern…now.
In hindsight, I believe it can all be lumped under the heading of ‘it seemed like a good idea at that time’.
The trip itself, well, vacation time after all, can do no wrong, after all who doesn’t live for vacation days? Hmmm, that makes me want to digress slightly….did you know, I pause here to make certain you are all listening, there are actually people, living, breathing people, who do not use their vacation days? I hear your shock and denial from a distance, I do!
Close to year end, these special people are actually forced…forced, I tell ya…to take their vacations! I have to shake my head and move on from this topic, for I simply cannot understand how any of that is possible. It’s akin to my confusion over another grouping I’ve heard tell of, those who ‘forget to eat’….say what?
Anyhow, I set out full of optimistic vacation bliss as the bunch of us set off, some in a van, some on bikes, for the music filled streets of Nashville, TN. It was very early in the morning, because early is when true biker people hit the roads. My hand was the only one that shot up in favour of a later departure, and as you can guess, I was out voted.
We’d been on the highway for a bit, when the sky began to show off its colours for the coming day. It was amazing to see the various layers of red, orange and hints of yellow that announced the morning. It made me realize what a canvas each day presents to us, if we would only take a moment to be aware. It also made me realize I still have a craving to create, to draw, to paint. But along with all this inner thought, came the realization that a passenger, on a motor bike, is a captive audience.
There is not a lot you can do, as a passenger. It’s best to be totally in sync with the driver. There is no sense checking out the traffic before you, or behind you. You have to learn to trust your driver, you have to believe they will be watching, they are aware, and will most certainly keep you safe. So, that leaves you to do….what? And that, my friend, is exactly my issue!
After my enthusiastic inner applause over the glorious arrival of the day, and soon after the final wisps of night disappeared into the morning sky, there was very little for me to do.
I started to watch how hubby changed gears, which hand he used, which foot moved. I shared his energy as we crested hills, passed transport trucks, took curves with an assured expertise. I even, once in awhile, participated in the special wave one gives to other bikers passing by. But, when I looked over his shoulder to view the tiny clock on the dash, I discovered we’d only been on the road for an hour. An hour! Only an hour, it can’t be so!
So, I started going over my French: did my numbers, the months, the days, even strung some sentences together. I practiced some Kegel exercises, women everywhere you know what I speak of!….and 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…release…and repeat.
I have always wanted to learn how to sing, properly, and Amazing Grace is the song I have chosen to learn, some day. A bit of a grandiose plan, you might say, but there it is. On that vacation day, I practiced belting out this song I love. I couldn’t really hear how I sounded, for the wind rudely pushed the words back down my throat, or flung them at the cars we passed. Humph, everyone’s a critic!
Finally, after all this activity, I once more ventured a peek over hubby’s shoulder, you know, to check how the time was doing. Just imagine my horror to be confronted with the fact, that only five minutes had passed. Not unsimilar to one of my nightmares, where I’m at work and the time remains stuck at 9:05AM, no matter how loud I scream!
Just so you understand, out of eight days vacation, six of them were spent on the bike. Six.
After much thought, after the trip, I’m thinking it was all perhaps a plan set in motion by hubby. You see, the next time he says he is planning a long-distance bike trip, I may have to say ‘you’re on your own, my friend’. And I’m thinking, maybe, just maybe, that was his devious plan all along.