Motorcycles Bartenders F-Bombs

    Eastport is about as far east as you can get in the continental United States, and is just across a narrow channel from Canada, and our phones didn't know where we were;  GPS confusal. Mine made weird noises, then shut off. Rose's said she was being charged a $2.00 "global fee" for every text she made in Bar Harbor. Bought some cheap US gasoline before getting into the line of cars waiting to cross the border into Canada. The female Canadian border officer asked us questions like, "…where are you going?”(that was easy) "…how long are you going to be in Canada?", and "…what is your license plate?" Rose and I answered pretty much simultaneously, and gave somewhat different answers. But it was enough to arouse Canadian Border Officer suspicion, and the lady, who seemed so nice, then gave us a yellow slip of paper, and told us to pull to the side for an "immigration check." We waited in line while customs officers pulled bottles of l

4 AM sound of thunder. Lightening flashed through the spaces in the thick motel drapes. There was the hissing of a hard rain. I fell back asleep and dreamed: three girls from my high school, wearing tight capri pants, so tight, I was singing, and I had my old motorcycle, the leaky Triumph. Those pants! When I woke, I put on the weather channel. It was a deluge, flashes of lightening, rumbling thunderclaps. We sat there, drank coffee, and watched the radar, looking for a break in the storm. We saw a break and made a run for it. Rode through the last remnants of the storm on route 36. Raining hard, I couldn't see a damned thing, just put the flashers on and hoped for the best. Trucks. Lotta trucks. Came up out of the storm, and rode 36 into Hannibal, and crossed the Mississippi River. Stayed on 36 in Illinois, and poured on the coal, 70-80 mph, right into Springfield, where we picked up I-55 north. We got onto route 24 in Chenoa, and continued east at an easy 60 mph. Smooth, except f

 “Sometimes it's a little better to travel than to arrive”  ― Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values “In a car you're always in a compartment, and because you're used to it you don't realize that through that car window everything you see is just more TV. You're a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame.  “The test of the machine is the satisfaction it gives you. There isn't any other test. If the machine produces tranquility it's right. If it disturbs you it's wrong until either the machine or your mind is changed.”  ― Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values “The real cycle you're working on is a cycle called yourself.”  ― Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values