So we did not get to go tubing over her spring vacation due to my work and addict-like need to earn money. It’s funny how that works, we need to eat so we need to earn money so that we can eat. Hmm, I wonder if maybe someone could do an intervention to break that destructive cycle?
Oopps, was I venting again? I guess I really do like being a rat in a turn-style, BigBrother.
As I was saying before was I so rudely interrupted, we went tubing today. Of course we took the bike to the starting point, so I have to go on a little about the ride and the cathartic feeling I get when I ride. There was a time in the not so distant past when I only had a motorcycle, it was years that I lived in this phase of my life, most of it during my Doc’s years. I rode everyday to work and for pleasure too. This was an interesting time in my life, but now is not the time for that conversation. Since my little Runtyun has blessed my life, I have had to make changes, one of which is to use a cage to transport her, and me, from place to place. As a consequence, the motorcycle will go days at a time where all we do is gaze at each other longingly, sometimes I see a little contempt in its headlight(eye). Perhaps it is only my imagination, I dunno.
At any rate, we got moving this morning for Headwaters Outfitters right on time. I gotta hand it to my little Runtyun, when I say we need to be going at a certain time, she is ready ahead of the deadline!
I cannot relate the beauty that is the Blue Ridge Parkway with mere words. I try to paint a picture, yet never seem to match the grandeur of clouds draping over peeks like a damp white vail, with the real privilege of experiencing the sight. Today was no different. The sky was the blue of the ocean touched with fluffy white clouds.
We were not in a hurry to get anywhere until we got in line behind some guy in a diesel pickup. I swear, this guy went too slow just because he wanted to control those behind him. My frustration was tempered by the car directly in front of us and the dog who kept bounding back and forth sticking its head out the window-tongue flapping happily. This animal was so happy to be alive and smelling EVERYTHING its nose could gather. Its smile was contagious.
We got to the Pisgah Inn and made the obligatory stop. The Runtyns’ helmet fell off the bike and the visor slipped off its place and I spent a minute trying to get everything back in place. We remounted and made our way south. There were many cars and bikes on the road, but at this point we seemed to be alone, no four-wheeled cages going in our direction to slow us down, so I was able to maneuver at my pace, though there were many bikes and cars coming towards us—go figure.
We finally found Rt 215 down to Rosman and our destination. I saw a Honda and its trailer looking at a map, so we stopped a minute. It was a pretty red speckled Honda Goldwing, such a beautiful paint job. I asked if all was OK, and he said that he was going to Bryson City, and was trying to figure the fastest route, because his bootie was sore. There is just something very disturbing about a 70-year-old man complaining about his bootie! I asked why Bryson City. It was where the painter who did his bike lived and, I guess, the old guy wanted to say hi. We parted and started down the dream road called Rt 215. I could go on about this road for page after page—just know that it is freshly paved and curvy with a small stream dancing on either side of the road. Let me sit back and reminisce a moment.
OK I’m back after reminiscing about that road. We found our way to the rafting place, settled up with the cashier, got in the van to go to the river entry point and off we went letting the rivers’ current control our lives for the moment. The truth is, there really is not much to talk about during this part of the journey. I let the river wash my stress away, the Runtyun had fun once she realized what to do. Most of the time the water was calm, though there was a couple of fairly calm rapids, we called them “minipids.”
The van took us back the bike and we drove off to find some food. Sonic has ok stuff and their root-beer floats are laced with sugar. This is a good thing because you-know-who, was beginning to lose her energy. Here is a photo of her with her maniacal face defending her float.)
Finally we got back home. Yeah, it was a fine day! ‘Nough said.
We hope your day was good too. Let us know what you did!