The Breakfast Club: MOA

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

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Alberto’s tale… DAY SEVENTEEN - BILLINGS

Last night after dinner at Ramos, we went straight to the motel we had found earlier. Falling asleep took no effort. In fact Chris was asleep before I finished unpacking my bike. And I mean snoring and all.

It is 4:45 am. I am awake, but tired and considering going back to sleep. “Oh, for Christ sakes turn on the light!” That was Chris, who it turns out is a light sleeper. “No Chriis, I am going back to sleep. It is way too early”. Truth? I was wiped out. Sleeping late, while not something I do, today, was, just the right thing to do.

Okay, it is late now. 5:45 am, I admit, not late… Later.

We had things on today’s agenda. And we had to get going if we are to be useful on this day. “We can have breakfast at Weeds, in California. That is some 30 miles from here (Yreka, CA)”. I am okay with the suggestion, and in short order we are on highway 5 heading south.

Breakfast had a special color for me. The lady owner of the establishment, is a black woman with a sense of pride and bonhomie. She was our helper and with great panache and humor tolerated these two clowns. Chris can be quite humorous… You just do not know what zinger he’ll throw at you. The proprietress not only caught the humor but dished back at Chris… Whoa!! That is good, I like this woman!

30 minutes later, we are heading to Old Station. Chris’ house. He wants to check on something and… You guessed it! Cut the grass. And, who do you think will help? Alberto. Only suiting. I started this trip doing lawns, might as well finishthe trip doing lawns. I shall call this “closure”!

Old station is 110 miles away. We got there by 9:00 am. Did the chores and were ready to head out by 10:45 am. Important because we have every intention of making it all the way home! Meaning, yesterday 471 miles and today 410 miles. This is motorcycle addiction if you ask me - okay, maybe home addiction.

We departed only to discover some road work on our intended road. Meaning, Long lines and slow going. Local guide Chris Weld at your service. “Alberto, detour. We are taking this other road, very winding and very scenic. Not fast, but great. We should have a great ride, what do you say. Yes? No?” You all should know me by now. I am game for anything. Show me something I do not know, and literally, I have no opinion and for this I am game. “Sure, Chris, let’s go for it!”

Great ride that took us to Manton, an old western town, well, not town, only the original store left. All else is disappeared. Plank wood, old windows were the glass is drooping. Absolutely an antique store. The helper is a woman thrown back a couple of educational centuries. Does not seem all that put together, but don’t kid yourself. She is sharp as a tack, underestimate her at your own peril.

We continued on highway 36, then 99. Both county roads in the middle of nowhere. The only feature is the 110 degrees of temperature. Man! Is it hot! We exited at Red Bluff and we are ready to take the highway, the big one! Highway 5. If we are to make it home, we need speed. The time is 1:00 pm and we have 299 miles to go. Can we make it? You bet!

While on Hwy 5, the road we stopped at an airport cafe. The same one we visited on the way north two weeks ago, Nancy’s Airport Cafe in Willows. Then and today the crop dusters are doing their thing. We, also are doing what we do best. Eat! Chris, a milk shake guaranteed to put a pound or two on you. Me, apple pie a la mode, it also came pound-guaranteed!

In here we met, guy going from Ohio to the Bay Area . Chris engaged him to give him a few pointers on how and where to go. Chris, the ambassador of BMW or MOA. He is good at it.

Hot, very hot. Still 110 degrees, you can feel the heat on the road drying you. We had to stop because I could not focus. My eyes were playing tricks on me… Absolute sign of something not good. I showed Chris the sign to stop. At the gas station I drank a litter of water, went to the bathroom to wash my face and salt, copious amount of salt ran from my face. Clearly, I was in peril. We rested for a while, drank moe water and cooled my head. One more time I felt alert.

Back on the road, we have 150 miles all told, and we will be home. Easy!

Rode 505 to 680 to wrong-turn 580. Visited big new sporting goods store - tested plumbing, that is went to the bathroom. Rode to Castro Valley exit, then through downtown Hayward to break near Jackson St. Drank water.

Chris should know better, but he always calls home to report. Irrate Pat called Chris, “Where are you and why? You &*^%$%”. (Sorry, folks, censored).

At the town of Hayward, we said goodbye. Chris going north to Pacifica and me heading South to Saratoga. Not an emotional departure. I know I will see Chris many more times in the years to come. I’d say, now, he is a part of my life.

The road home had horrendous traffic. Had to do some split-lane riding on absolutely stopped traffic.

arrived home at 6:00 pm. exactly. Tired? Happy to be home.

EPILOGUE

I started this journey alone, by going to meet with Chris an hour north of my home. The notion of “alone” has been in my mind quite a bit as of late.

We come to this world, and from the very moment we gain consciousness we actually become aware of ourselves, aware of the universe that exists only inside our heads. It is huge, complex and complete, but it’s most outstanding feature is that “in our heads, there is no company, you are alone in there”. Try as hard as you can.

In the motorbike, there is a lot of thinking done. Your companions (if you can cal them that) are nearby, and all departures only magnify that sooner or later, you will be alone.

Coming home, I finished as I started, alone. Aware.

For brief moments, I had a chance to take leave of awareness and simply enjoy whatever was in front of me… Each brief moment, a motorcycle moment, where you can only be, no time for awareness.

Thank you for reading this.