Deep in the chest cavity of Texas.

I woke up relatively early this morning, I suppose. Drank coffee with my brother and watched the same baseball highlights that we watched last night. Until we realized we had watched the same highlights on repeat for an hour, then switched to sports commentators discussing the games from the previous night, again, the same games with the same situational highlights, just being discussed at a greater length. Interspersed though out their commentary, Billy and I added our own. It was absolutely fantastic, it is really the only thing my brother and I do together and I absolutely cherish it.  You see, we didn’t grow up together, Billy is 15 years my senior and he has a different mom. I was born in Dallas but I grew up in Flagstaff, AZ and he was born in Dallas and never really left. I don’t think he would trade his life for the world, nor would I trade mine. But the occasions when our lives cross, it’s mundane and absolutely wonderful.

I left his house, unfortunately not getting to say good bye to his wife Jill or their 6 year old Grace, who is simply magic. I rolled out around 9:30am and headed south for Austin to see my friends Myles and Nick. I was supposed to see another friend from New Orleans, who lives in Austin now, named Kim. But Kim also owns a home in Galveston, TX and apparently her renters flooded it last night so she is headed there instead of having a lovely dinner with me. These things happen, I’ll miss her smile once more, but I am sure I will see her soon.

On my way to Austin I decided it was a good idea to stop outside of Waco and take pictures of the Branch Davidian Compound at the Mount Carmel Center ranch in the community of Elk, Texas.  I got off the freeway, something I am always happy to do, and made my way through the small towns full of churches and rolling hills cut by back roads of asphalt. Finally I came to EE ranch road and hung a left. I meandered down the road for about 1/2 a mile to find a few vehicles parked on the road and four people standing in the ditch talking, one with a clipboard and one with a very professional video recorder. I (like I do) immediately entered a realm of extreme anxiety and began overthinking everything. Should I be here? Is this disrespectful? Am I disturbing their interview? Should I roll past them and then turn around? Should I stop now and park the bike and walk up to the main drive way??? Weeeelllll…..

So, I decided to roll past them slowly as it seemed like they weren’t actually doing the interview or recording anything right then. I edged to the right side and began turning the bike around to the left. Admittedly I was extremely distracted by them though and didn’t make the full turn. I stopped and backed the bike up for a few feet, then completed the turn. However I found myself right at the edge of the right side of the road, facing the other direction and as soon as I noticed the the pavement had a very extreme 4 inch drop off, my right foot noticed it wasn’t touching anything either… Only thought now…? Dude, you are a dipshit. Then the bike and myself went down to the right. I went rolling down the ditch and my beautiful r1150gs landed on it’s crash bars. I cursed myself a number of times and pulled my helmet off just in time to look back and see that the gas cap door had managed to come open and was dumping fuel all over the handle bars and subsequently my iPhone that was attached to them. Needless to say I was bummed, frazzled and had difficulty in picking up my top heavy motorcycle that was on it’s side and leaning downhill into a ditch. The two older (ex?) FBI agents that were being interviewed by the British journalism crew came over and helped me pick it up. I have never been so embarrassed before in my life (probably not anywhere remotely near the truth, but it sure felt like it for a moment.) I learned very quickly that the crew was from London. I would have loved to strike up a conversation about my love for England and the time I had spent there, but this wasn’t the opportune moment… I just now learned via wikipedia that there were 33 British Nationals in the compound as members when the siege happened in February of 1993 and that 24 of them had died. Just trying to tie together why Brits would care about this situation some 23 years later.

After the commotion died down, I took out an allen wrench and tightened up my mirrors that had been jarred loose and were crooked, put my helmet back on, unzipped my jacket a bit to get added airflow over my soaked with sweat torso, climbed back on my silver stead and headed out without any pictures. I made my way to my hotel in Austin, where I am laying in bed writing this from. I have to admit it was nice riding the rest of the way without gps. It’s nice to remind myself that I know where I’m going sometimes and I don’t need to have a screen in my face to get there. I saw my buddies from highschool, two wonderful dudes who I get to see about once a year when I make the trek to Austin. Something I never mind doing as I do love this city.

I am not going to over think this next statement, nor am I going to beat myself up for it. I did have some beers with my friends, I pretty much knew I was going to coming in. I knew that I didn’t want to have any conversations about why I was quitting drinking. I am proud of myself though, I didn’t over do it, I came back to my hotel early. I didn’t let myself get intoxicated. I did enjoy their company WAY more than I did the alcohol. Who knows, maybe I got this thing in the bag. Who knows, maybe I shouldn’t put too much thought into any of it. Willie is singing to me about Good Hearted Women… I’m done writing for tonight. Goodnight Austin.

Scootin’ around Arizona

Alright, all you kids out there in radio land, anxiously awaiting my update, anticipating my prose about the beautiful state of Arizona and all of the wonderment that it holds.  Here goes nothing.

I’ll try to live up to your regimented standards.

Thursday the 8th, late, I picked up my riding partner for the week. I spent 3 of my best years with this woman, in New Orleans and still love her very much. She attended my graduation from the BMW Motorrad program at MMI on Friday morning, along with my adopted parents Mike and Kip. It meant the world to me to have her there, even though I didn’t want to be there myself. I would love to tell you all I am very proud of my completing the program, especially considering I seem to have a problem completing anything in life, I tend to walk away from things a little early. This can probably be explained in my ways, my lack of discipline during my formative years, my insecurities stemming from my….well who knows. Anyway, the program at Motorcycle Mechanics Institute is probably exactly what you might think it is. It is an education that is built for the “lowest common denominator,” one that is in no way interested in making craftsmen out of young men and women, it’s not interested in teaching you about or even stimulating an interest in the intricacies and the beauty of mechanical engineering. AND I’m here to tell you, there are few things more beautiful in this world than the beauty of a finely crafted motorcycle. It is a program, however, than does employ a few amazing instructors (NOT A LOT MIND YOU, but a few) that do truly care about craftsmanship and stimulation. Or as Pirsig would say, Quality. I truly appreciate the few instructors I had that cared about quality and made my last year worthwhile and interesting. Regardless of how I feel about my own pride in regards to what I have been doing the last year, I did still get paid to just play with motorcycles, I suppose it’s hard to complain about that. So, the woman I am in love with, my adopted parents and I attended my graduation. It went well, apparently I had made the directors list. I did well, 4.0. Certified as a BMW Technician. Chapter closed.

New Chapter. Saturday morning we loaded up my 2000 BMW R1150GS and set off  for Flagstaff from Phoenix, via Prescott, Jerome and Sedona. A nice 5 plus hour ride though the mountains of Central and Northern Arizona.

We visited friends. We ate vegan curry in Flagstaff. We reminisced about our high school days (both my travel companion and myself grew up in there.) We hiked the Humphreys Peak a ways and spread some of her mother’s ashes, which while understandably a very emotional moment for her, turned out to be far more emotional for myself than I would have expected. It was a great moment, a great weekend and I really do feel the entire experience brought us a lot closer. I also haven’t been to any sort of a meeting since the 5tth or 6th and I am still sober. I am feeling pretty great about not drinking.

 

 

Here Goes Nothing…

This is probably going to be a lot more candid that I am comfortable with. I suppose that is the point. I feel I need to apologize ahead of time, as I am not a phenomenal writer. I tend to be a bit disjointed with my words, AAAAANNNDDDD with that lets get down to it…

 

I have had some pretty big issues with alcohol and (drugs) for a large part of my life. It’s just finally time I stepped up and did something about it. I have missed most of my 15 year old daughter’s life, who I will be visiting in Montana during this trip. Not all of the circumstances surrounding my daughter and I being estranged revolve around alcohol but I can honestly say it has played a helping hand.

 

I plan on using this medium to convey my experiences both on the bike and in the meetings and ALL my dealings with new found sobriety. My emotional journey as much as my physical.

This particular journey actually started about 2.5 weeks ago when I decided it was time for me to finally get sober. I also decided to (for the time being) scrap some business plans that I had been developing with two partners, two individuals who admittedly are two of the greatest people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I decided instead to go on a very long motorcycle ride, starting in Phoenix and ending……. I don’t know where. On the way I am going to visit friends and family that I haven’t seen in a very long time as well as attend various Buddhist “sittings,” speakings, meetings, retreats, etc.

I actually began practicing Buddhism roughly a decade ago. Let’s just say that alcoholism and drug abuse tends to get in the way of the Dharma, or at least that’s what I’ve discovered. It’s time to get back to a regular practice and what better way to do that than traveling the countryside, visiting friends, family, sangha’s of all sorts. A motorcycle, a tent, books, a meditation cushion.

But before I set off cross country, my very close friend is flying into town tonight to begin this first leg of the journey with me. We are going to travel around the state of Arizona visit old friends and take care of some personal matters. She and I have had a tumultuous relationship over the last 4 years. This is going to be a difficult journey for the both of us, but I know that it will be well worth it. I for sure love her as much as anything in the world, even though I haven’t always shown it. As long as I can remain focused, maintain perspective and remember to forgive myself and all those around me, everyday. Everything should be just fine.

Stay tuned! Saturday morning we head out for Flagstaff!