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“The morning
breaks eternal, bright and fair.”
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Lonely? Yes it was.
Desolate? Not at all. Neither was it hostile nor harsh. In fact, “The Loneliest
Road in America” segment of US 50 may have been the best ride of the 3073-mile
road.
Yes, there were long
straightaways as it traversed huge basins. However, the rider was rewarded at
each end with twisty turning climbs into or out of those basins, often
sandwiched between towering rock formations.
The ride down into
Austin, UT from the east was downright hair-raising. (Didn’t mean to leave you
out, Old Danny Boy, I was just a saying . . .)
So Mr. Lead Fist
actually took it fairly easy today. The road is posted 65 in Utah, 70 in Nevada.
We stayed under 80 most of the time. Not a problem until the very end of the day
when we came up behind what turned out to be a sheriff. We were going 75-78ish.
Evidently that wasn’t fast enough to get us pulled over. Still, it was close.
ODB lucks out . . . again.
But here’s the
thing. They call it “The Loneliest Road in America” for a reason. (Other than
because it’s in America.) All that solitude – with hours between towns and very
little traffic – lends itself to introspective contemplation. I knew this was
brewing. I know ODB better than I know myself.
He calls these trips
his MMPAA (Major Motorcycle Pilgrimage Across America). We’re getting close to
the end of this one and he’s getting tired. I think that helped him get out of
his own way as we talked today about the journey.
We decided that
going from Point A to Point B is a myth. There was no Point A. There is no Point
B.
That’s true in life,
as well. I didn’t come into existence when I left the assembly line door. I am
the sum of my parts that previously existed. Just as ODB didn’t come from his
mother’s womb. He came through it.
We remembered how it
felt when we got to the end of US 20 on the 2009 MMPAA. We followed that thing
relentlessly from Newport, Oregon to Boston, Mass. When we finally arrived in
Boston, there was nothing there but another road. When we started the trip, we
didn’t just magically appear in Newport, we got there from somewhere
else.
ODB has been around
death in the past few months. In March, he and Al the Fisherman held their
friend Rich as he died and witnessed first-hand the miracle of death – the
transformation from a person here to a person forever gone. Three months later
Erin, the mother of his youngest daughter, died. He went with his daughter to
visit Erin’s body one last time. Again, witnessing the wrenching finality of
death.
Today, the spirit of
Erin and Rich were present on our journey. Of course his dad paid a visit, as
well. It was reassuring to have their company.
The end of life’s
journey is not the end of the road, nor is birth a starting point. They are
turning points. Just like US 20 was in Boston and Newport, and just like we’re
going to find tomorrow where US 50 ends in West Sacramento. The road we follow
ends. We make a turn and keep moving forward.
There is no Point A.
There is no Point B. Life is a journey. The journey is all there is.
Beautiful.
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