West 2002
 
 

Day 17

August 10

 
  I sleep again until I wake, knowing today I will ride today until I get home, however long it takes. I wander over to Denny's and load up for breakfast, because I don't plan to stop for anything else except gas, peanuts, and Diet Pepsi. I load up the Redbird for the final time and spin the back tire. Fortunately, no threads are showing, so I might just make it home without a tire change. The sky is clouding up and it looks like a front is coming in, so I suit up for rain. I have forgotten how far it is across Oklahoma, but it reminds me soon enough. It's about like driving east to west in Tennessee. But the roads are good and the traffic is light, though it is heavily patrolled. I have not got a ticket on this entire trip, so I watch my speed accordingly. I begin think that I might get home at a reasonable hour after all if I can keep up this constant rate. But I have nothing to worry about because Arkansas puts all of that silly thinking aside. As soon as I hit the Arkansas border, the construction zones start.  
 
 
  It's not bad enough that it's one lane and 60 MPH and heavily patrolled, but they don't make one long construction zone. What they do is tear up about 10 miles, they skip 2 miles, then tear up another 10 miles and so on. So you have this constant traffic jam of people trying to pass then merge back in. The storm hits about the time the construction hits, so I realize I am facing perhaps the most difficult part of the whole trip. By this time, my hands are giving me fits as the pain level escalates due to the constant stopping and going. I contemplate about getting off, but the truckers are talking among themselves and every road east is in the same shape. Then comes the big backup – over 10 miles long. It's hard to believe that any DOT could so poorly plan a construction project, but my helmet is off to the folks in Arkansas. With no viable alternatives, sometimes all you can do is just suck it up. That's the only option that I have today on the menu. I keep focusing back on the great rides I've had, the great friends I've made, and the marvelous sights that I've seen on this trip – anything to take my mind off the churning in my stomach and the fire that's burning in my hands. Fortunately, it does seem to help and I manage to keep my breakfast down. What should have taken 4 hours turns into 6. I have never been so glad to see a state line as the one that I see when I cross the Mississippi River at Memphis.  
 
 
 

I know the slab well from here to Nashville and I know I can make it home if I can just stay awake. Even the late evening sun begins to shine and the clouds clear up as I cross over into Tennessee. The RedBird knows the way from here, so I can take turns riding one-handed to allow my tortured hands some rest. The little towns click by as I make my way on I40 and I know them well – and where all of the highway patrol like to hang out. I'm headed for exit 205 so I can calculate my arrival time pretty easily. Finally I cross the Harpeth River and slow down as my exit comes up. It's a short hop from the slab to my house but I cover the ground carefully. As I pull behind the house, Bubba comes tearing out of his doghouse, jumping around like he's got springs in his feet. I raise the garage door and ease old RedBird into her resting place. Taking my helmet off, I walk out to Bubba and give him a big old bear hug. It's been 7800+ miles and 17 days since I've seen him and I think he missed me a bit. My lovely wife is standing at the door, welcoming me home. As Dorothy would say,

“There's no place like home, there's no place like home!”

I spin the back tire just for grins and the threads are just beginning to peek through what is left of the tread.

THE END

  
 

SOME FOOTNOTES

I finally submitted to a experimental STT resection (which involves some nasty bone grinding and tendon movement) to correct the problems with both hands. After a year of recovery, I have pretty good use of both hands and most of the pain is gone. For that I am very thankful.

During Christmas 2003, we lost Dennis Ryan from a massive heart attack. He left behind a loving wife, Norma, and son, Tommy and many friends. He was a real prince and always gentleman and I sorely miss him still.

Also, My beloved Bubba had to be put to sleep December 2006 due to bone cancer. He always sad to see me leave on the bike and always glad to see me return. He is deeply missed also.