Day 14: What Happened

Back at the motel in Sandpoint, Idaho, the flirty, late-thirtysomething lady checking me in was obviously a story. We’d met a minute and a half before, and already I knew this much: formerly coastal, formerly big-city, but a divorce somehow meant that she had to be here, “trapped” behind…

Day 2 III: It Fits

After the oohing and aahing, Day 2 got down to the work of prepping the bike for a 600-mile run up to Vancouver Island and back. Day 2 was Tuesday, June 2, and the idea was to have the bike back in Seattle by noon Friday, , 600 miles older and wiser and ready for the crucial first servicing…

Day 16 — Washing Away

Day before yesterday was a hard day. I know, because the Gremlin Chaser lost a wing and Bone slipped a disc.

OK, I also know because the rain that did not quit from Devils Lake, North Dakota to Fergus Falls, Minnesota found its way through all my defenses.

Why Stone The Road, Part I: Alone?

As I’m lugging the big dry bags from bus to airport to train, people ask, “Why the big bags? Where you going?” When I tell them I’m in Seattle to buy a motorcycle and ride it home to Vermont, they ask, “Alone?”

Day 2 II: My Baby

Riding, not writing.

Writing, not riding.

Day 20 — Dorothy Time, Part I

This motorcycle trip began with a bus ride. I could say it began when I left our home in Thetford Center, Vermont, but Kathy was driving me to the Dartmouth Coach bus stop in Hanover, New Hampshire, and if I’m with her I am home. So the trip didn’t start until we’d stood a few…

Strange Cities by Night

It always feels odd to meet a city at night. I got into Seattle too late to make its acquaintance. We took sideways looks at one another. Apparently, Seattle decided I was an easy mark, because I was hit up by panhandlers three times in finve minutes.