Friday, November 30, 2012

Places to See

Tina-Walker-Sashmouth-Rude-Biker-Chick
I've shared recently about the Gypsy Trip my hubs Highway and I are planning for next year around the U.S. We plan to leave April 15, 2013 and head out to see America. With very little planning, two bikes, only the gear we can carry, and laptops, cell phones and cameras, we want to see this country we call home.

It is really our goal to have no "hard and fast" destinations. But the idea of making a list of "maybes" excites me! The things I want to see are silly, it seems, to many people. When we took a road trip last year in my car (I wasn't quite ready for it on the bike) I saw the plains for the first time in my life. The sight of the sprawling landscape that seemed to go on forever took my breath away. I had read about the plains, seen them in movies and photos, but until you are there, right there in the middle of this enormous painting by God's hand, you can't begin to grasp the awesomeness it holds.

I'm ready to see it all. I want to see corn grow in Iowa, the Potato Museum in Idaho, the NFL Hall of Fame, eat barbeque in St. Louis and in Dallas, eat jambalaya in Louisiana, watch the sun rise over the Atlantic Ocean, feel the wind blow in Chicago and taste the dust in the Oklahoma air. Where should we go? What should we see? What is in YOUR town, county, or state that I shouldn't miss? Where have you been that I need to see?

Tell me what you think and I'll add this to my "List of Maybes". When we blow through that part of the country, we'll look at the list and do our best to tie it into our plans. And let me know where you are! We can grab a bite to eat at your favorite place and share a refreshing beverage together. I want to meet other bikers who share our passion for this life.

Thanks in advance for helping me dream. . .

6 comments | Post a Comment



Awaiting Motorcycle Ownership

tina-walker-sashmouth-motorcycle-chick
Cooler months means less sunshine beckoning us to ride, and unwittingly, we give in. Looking out the window into cloudy skies, the chill becomes nothing more than annoyance we'd like to avoid.

"Let's just take the truck," one of replies.

But my butt is itching for the bike seat and regardless of the weather, I'm ready to pack on a little extra gear for the thrill of the throttle.

Hold yer horses, Missy! Oh, that's right. I don't own a bike of my own yet.

Days roll by, but that final day to own my own two wheels just can't come fast enough. By the end of December, God willing, I'll have my own bike. Until then, I'm riding Fender Bunny. And if you say "Bitch. You're riding Bitch!" I'll show you what a BITCH I can be! I'm nobody's bitch, so for now, I'm Fender Bunny.

Until that magical day of Biker Ownership rolls around, I'm biding my time by heading to the Progressive International Motorcycle Show®. We'll be providing some press coverage for the event as well, so I'll have an update after the show. We'll be attending in Long Beach, CA December 6, 7 & 8.

For now, I'll have to be satisfied envying everyone else's ride, until I have my own.

No comments | Post a Comment



Friday, November 16, 2012

Looking For Good Road

Just off Interstate 8 in the tiny speck of the town Felicity, CA, we traveled less than a mile off the exit, but the short trip to the roadside attraction seemed to take forever. The frontage road proved to be a mine field for even experienced riders with asphalt cracked in thousands of pieces.

We drifted as briskly as the surrounding desert sands, the narrow openings presenting themselves in the complex disarray that had once been called a street. Ravaged by the brutality of the Mojave Desert, what lie before us was nothing less than asphalt chaos.

I sat stiffly on the backseat, watching over Highway's shoulder. He smoothly selected the path, gliding from one solid piece to the next, completely ignoring the huge potholes, missing chunks, and enormous cracks in the gray matter before us. In a flash I remembered the words of the instructor during my motorcycle training course.

"Look for the good road. Don't look where you don't want to go. Just focus on the path you want ahead of you."

Thoughts of The Who's Pinball Wizard came to mind; the deaf, dumb and blind boy who played pinball by some indescribable sixth sense. Highway seemed to ride by that same type of instinct. The vast difference between Highway's relaxed approach to the situation and my tense observation from the backseat became painfully evident. How could he not be concerned?

When we arrived at the pyramid in Felicity, at 10am the heat was just approaching a stifling 105 degrees. I peeled off my helmet and riding jacket, gulped some water, then stared into Highway's eyes.

"That was brutal! How did you do that?"

He looked stunned.

"How did I do what?" he asked innocently. He had no idea to what I was referring.

"How did you avoid all 10,000 cracks and potholes in that road?" I choked.

"I just rode the good part."

I realized that this wasn't something monumentous or new to Highway, because this is his philosophy in life. He sees the good and ignores the bad. He lives in the present, not 10 miles ahead or 20 miles behind. He doesn't get off of the bike and ask if I saw something 40 miles back; he gets off and asks about something right in front of us. He doesn't anticipate or forecast our destination, nor does he regret or dwell on roads we passed. He spends his life in the here, the now, the good and the beautiful. To Highway, he can't imagine why anyone would see life any other way.

When I met Highway, I had just spent 15 years with someone who only saw the bad in every person, place, thing and situation. He complained about a million things he couldn't change and took no responsibility to change the one thing he could; himself. The burden of that relationship left me bone dry when I bailed. Highway turned out to be the never-ending-well-of-optimism. The beauty is, he doesn't even see it. Enjoying life is simply inherent for him; part of his DNA.

The Bible says, "Seek and ye shall find. . ." Riders like Highway got it right. They spend their lives looking for the good road. It is inconceivable to Highway that a road has nothing good to offer. It takes no effort for him to see the good road because from his perspective, that's all he can see. Optimists don't seek joy, happiness, goodness or beauty. They simply accept that those things are already there.

No comments | Post a Comment



Saturday, November 10, 2012

I Want To Be Free

My Mercedes C230 is officially sold. I will be receiving my first payment on December 15 from my niece, who has purchased it from me. She's pretty reliable, so I am comfortable working a payment plan out with her. Actually, I've already given her the car to drive.

Why am I telling you this? Because I've sold my car to purchase my motorcycle. I will own only one vehicle; my bike. After evaluating my lifestyle, I realize that I can live without a car or truck. Actually, Highway has a pickup truck, so if I truly need something with four wheels, I can use it. The truck was his long before we met, so even though we're married now, I will still always consider this his. But he's pretty generous and lets be use it anytime I like.

The more belongings I let go, the more freedom I feel. When my ex-pussy and I separated, I made a deal with him. He could take all of the outstanding debt, keep both of his vehicles, take any household goods and furniture he wanted. I would keep our house, which has no equity, keep my car, and keep only what he left behind. If he agreed to this, then after 15 years of marriage, I would forego any spousal support. My main reason for doing this was because after the shit was over, I never wanted to have to deal with him again. I didn't need or want his fucking money then, and I don't need or want it now.

This sweet deal left me with a huge house full of crap. For the last year I've been liquidating; having yard sales, donating to my favorite charity, and privately selling on Craigslist. Starting with a 3000 sq. ft. house, filled to the brim with crap, I am now down to half of a one car garage. Selling my car was the final large item I had to eliminate in this process.

Lastly is my house. My niece and her husband rent the house from me and have really made it into their home; an incredibly boisterous, happy, lovely home. When it was my home, after my daughter was gone, it was sterile, immaculate and void of love. Now it is anything but that! It's alive now, and I wouldn't want it any other way. When the time is right, they'll buy that house from me and I'll be even more free. For now I'm happy to have them rent it, maintain it, and bring it back to life.

The life of a vagabond, a gypsy biker, is waiting for me. The more belongings I own, the more I have to care for, be responsible for, and maintain. That burden of ownership robs me of my freedom; something I value more than anything now. The less I own, the more free I am.

One step at a time, I'm working towards that open road with no destination. In the process I've eliminated my worthless ex-pussy, my debt, my belongings and now my car. My bike, my keepsakes, my clothing and my accessories are all that remain.

You didn't expect me to get rid of my 90 pairs of shoes too, did you? Get real!

7 comments | Post a Comment



Monday, November 5, 2012

In Love

As Blackbird rounds the twisties, my legs grasp her sides, my hands lie limp on Highway's hips, my neck is loose, my torso taut, and my toothy smile extends ear to ear. Breathing deep, I drink in the turn, letting it wash the thrill over me. Slinging us from side to side, Blackbird eats up the road like a wildfire on the prairie.

Taking one car-free curve of the mountainside after the other, my heart pounds in my headphones with the screaming beat of Rush's Red Barchetta.

"Wind-
In my hair-
Shifting and drifting-
Mechanical music-
Adrenalin surge...

Well-weathered leather,
Hot metal and oil,
The scented country air.
Sunlight on chrome,
The blur of the landscape,
Every nerve aware."

A summer's road was meant to be shred, twisties were laid in the steep landscape for careening riders, and Highway was born to take me for a ride.

I'm in love ~ with the man, the bike, the road, the life.

No comments | Post a Comment



Friday, November 2, 2012

One Hell of a Ride

Next year, my hubby Highway and I plan to take an extended road trip on our bikes. I'm in the process of selling my car to purchase a new bike before we take off, so I have some experience beforehand. I have ridden his Yamaha Roadstar 1300, but at over 800 lbs, it was just too much for me. The bike I'm currently jonesing for is the Kawasaki Ninja 250. I would love it in flat black, with very little, if any, aftermarket gear on it. My bike will be just for my fat ass. Highway will haul the gear on Blackbird, his Honda ST 1200.

So the trip will hopefully be 6 months across the U.S. No real plan, no destinations set, just ride where the road takes us. Our only real goals are: 1. Continue to work on a very regular basis, and 2. Reach a city, stay 2 weeks and see the city, then decide our next destination.

I've done some real work in the past few months to get all of my ducks in a row to make this happen. Living a life being homeless used to frighten me, but now I can't wait. I've found my home in Highway. There is no need to look anywhere else. Wherever we are together, I feel safe, happy and fulfilled.

Traveling is a dream I've carried in my heart since I was a kid, dying to get away from my abusive family. Not surprisingly, I married a pussy who never wanted to go anywhere, terrified of everything beyond our front doorstep. After spending 15 years locked inside my suburban Hell being filled with wanderlust, I'm chomping at the bit to get the fuck out on the road.

We leave Monday, April 15, 2013. I plan to write as often as possible, taking readers along the trail of our adventure. Come along! I promise, it will be one hell of a ride!

1 comment | Post a Comment



About Sash


People call me "Sash" because I'm a former beauty queen in my old home town. My father used to ride in an MC which got me interested in the culture. After my last divorce I said "goodbye" to Susie Homemaker and became the rude biker chick I always felt inside. (Read more...)