The Hunt

"Thar she blows!" said the ol' man of the sea (Hemingway butchered and paraphrased) not knowing that underneath the surface of that the puff of steam and glimpse of blubber swam a giant of a problem. The hunt is intoxicating and pulling the trigger is so exciting, isn't it? The delirious dream of conquering the prey overcomes most of the attempts of our sub conscious to shake us into reason and logic. Oh who needs reason any way.

I was now on the hunt. I told my wife that I was trading backwards and the good news was that the bike I would buy would be cheaper than the one I sold. I think I threw in a little bait too by adding to my sales pitch that the difference in price would about cover that bedroom set she had been coveting...er, I mean wanting. After 25 years of marriage, she's on to me now and can't be manipulated that easily. But how could she argue with that pitch? So we budgeted for what I would need to purchase and pick up my new (yet to be discovered) bike and with the VTX sold and money burning a hole in my pocket, I headed for EBay.

I wanted a sidecar outfit. Please don't ask me why...I don't know why...they're just cool. I dreamed of rides with the dog. I read that great little book by John Steinbeck called Travels with Charlie, where John set out in his camper with his poodle, Charlie, to discover the "heart" of America (Great little read to take on a motorcycle trip by the way). He named his camper "Rocianante" after the faithful steed of Don Quixote (Man from La Mancha).

If you're familiar with the story, Quixote's steed was an old gray mare that he imagined to be much greater than she was. I thought, "I'll name my bike "Rocianante" and together with Ollie (my version of Charlie and who you'll see pictures of later) we'll travel the country in pursuit of um...uh...well, something. Maybe like I'll make a quest of finding the ultimate Western onion ring or something sort of like that. Didn't Robert Fulgham set out in pursuit of the ultimate chicken fried steak once? Come to think of it, I think he even found it in Payette, Idaho of all places (think that was in his book "Uh Oh").

With a dream in mind I searched for days until I happened upon a little rig in the southeast corner of Kansas. I wasn't attracted by the looks of the bike, but rather the description and the seller's rating of its owner. He had done much of the work himself mechanically and had ridden it over 5,000 miles since a total rebuild, so after many conversations I decided to bid for it. I won! Um, I hope I did the right thing. I knew I could paint it, but it had to be strong mechanically to make the 1600 mile trip back home. Yes you heard that right...1600 miles, one way. Man I love adventure.

I flew down to Joplin, Missouri, met the owner at midnight, made the transaction and headed for the nearest town on a bike I had never ridden before. Now...have you ever ridden a sidecar outfit? It's a whole different animal. The front forks wobble at 25 mph, you can't lean in a turn and when I rode it away out into the dark countryside of Kansas at one o'clock in the morning, the headlight was stuck pointing down so that I could only see about fifteen feet in front of me.

Pitch black, handlebars trying to wrestle themselves from my grip and the road in front of me lit just enough to identify the frightened possum right before he squished underneath my wobbly front tire...I was scared spitless (no possums were hurt in this story)! I think it was the Franciscan monks who used to tie candles to their shoes to walk at night as a reminder that the Lord was a light unto their path not a torch into the future. Well, I would have made a great motorcycle monk that night!

I couldn't speed up because of the headlight issue so now two or three farm dogs were running along side of me, snarling and nipping at my heels. I couldn't see them, but I heard them and I tried to give it gas but I didn't know which way the road would turn...so I wobbled along for a few miles hiking up my left leg to stay away from teeth, listening for dogs, and cars and critters and desperately searching for some sort of light. Finally I saw the lights of Pittsburg, Kansas and though I couldn't see the road very well, I followed the light and the painted line on the road just ahead of me. I reached town, found a hotel, parked the rig, woke up the owners and fell into bed.

I was exhausted by the hunt and the kill. But as every hunter knows, the kill is just the beginning of the work...but that I'll worry about tomorrow morning. Good night. Whew!