Notes from the Road, 10 of 10
Monday 8/12/96 9:00 PM MDST
Aurora, CO (home)
As I was winding my way home today it came to me that, in one way of thinking, no journey really ends or begins. Of course, we have ways of setting aside and marking segments of our greater journey. For example, I meticulously plan and estimate the cost of each trip with its own name with my computer. This makes it seem like a self-contained unit, but when I crank up the bike tomorrow to run some errands around town, the odometer keeps on turning and the journey continues.
I suppose the reason why this thought is important to me is because it gives value to the every day and seemingly mundane parts of my journey. When I think about it, trips like I just completed make up only a fraction of the mileage on my Beemer. Most of the mileage has been racked up going from here to there as a part of my weekly routine. Although gliding past majestic redwoods and barnstorming down Hwy. 12 in Idaho transforms that part of my journey into something special and memorable, just because I parked the bike in my garage this evening does not mean the journey is over. It just became more localized, that's all.
Just before sitting down to write this, I went out to the garage for something and I stopped (as I often do) to admire the gorgeous black machine in her little notch in the garage. Besotted with kamikaze insects and road grime from several Western states, she still has the power to turn my head. I've always known my Beemer was feminine, but I could never come up with a name for her. Every time I tried to give her a name, she just shook it off. A while back I finally realized why. It is because she is the "mystery woman." She doesn't tell her name, but she feeds my highway fantasy and whets my gypsy desire. I may never know here name, but I know her through the places she has carried me. And tomorrow, we will meet again to continue our journey.
Aurora, Colorado USA
"The ideas and concepts which best repay critical examination
are those which for the longest period have remained unquestioned."
-adapted from Alfred North Whitehead