The Dust Settled

Having successfully planned and executed my mission, my next step was to figure out where I was staying, and then make the (should be) simple ride home the next day.  Before leaving Moon for Mars, on a lark I google mapped the distance to Johnstown, which I knew to be some distance from Pittsburgh on the correct heading. I immediately decided that it was far enough from Pittsburgh, which Donna had advised me was a new COVID hotspot, and yet close enough to get there, and then familiar enough to make me smile.  We're in Johnstown every year for Thunder in the Valley, by far our favorite bike rally and a second home to us, but this year it had been cancelled like everything else.  I could stay at our familiar Holiday Inn downtown, and have an actual sit-down meal for the first time in a week, a celebration of accomplishment of sorts.  I knew their restaurant had a patio, and also knew that the indoor seating was never busy.

I'd expected to get in early, get a shower, have an early dinner, catch up with Donna, and maybe get some blogging done.  Reality was that I'd farted around a lot getting to and taking pictures of Mars, Mars was further away from Johnstown than Moon was, and where you get Route 22 there off the turnpike, there's still 50 traffic lights.  So with afternoon showers due at any moment, and my easy evening slipping away, I started getting a little cranky.  And once out of town a ways, I'm cranky going 70 in a 45 between traffic lights once they get spaced further and further apart.

It is here where I shall discuss the good fortune I associate with my lucky star at departure Sunday before dawn, and also pat myself on the back for a good personal habit.

By now, I've talked endlessly in Life Behind Bars about identifying, accepting, and mitigating risk.  When your card gets pulled, that's it, and you have to accept that.  But you can stack the deck, and it's in your best interest to learn how to do it.  This is true of life in general.

At some point on some interstate on the way up, I'd allowed myself to get into a position that is best to avoid:  tractor-trailer immediately on my right 6 feet away, and one directly in front of me, with me kind of boxed in.  In general, I don't follow anything I can't see through or around regardless of what I'm driving, for obvious reasons.  Here, I was waiting for the truck to complete his pass and I wanted to keep my spot in line.  As he cleared the right lane traffic, he began to ease over and as he did so, suddenly a gator - truck tire carcass - appeared directly in front of me at 75 mph.  My bad for letting this happen, but thankfully he didn't hit it and throw it, and I was able to instinctively shove the left side bar and swerve around it.  Normally you smell rubber or see the tell-tale shreds leading up to it, but nothing.  I shouldn't have been that close, but I was and I got away with it, even with my tail-heavy, slow-handling drunken hippo of a bike.

Then, having acknowledged first thing in the morning that slowing down in the dark is a sign of intelligence, 15 hours later I'm trucking full speed into the fading twilight, sun having set behind me, pretty much alone on I-64 outside St. Louis.  Something, I forget what, captured my attention with the nav/info system.  I think I was trying to figure out how to display altitude, or find some Thin Lizzy, or something extremely mission critical like that [sarcasm font.]  Just as I looked up, something in the darkness immediately didn't seem quite right, but wh---- GATOR!!!

Right in the middle of my lane, right in front of me.  I didn't have time to think, but my reaction was true, and again I darted to the side of disaster.  Both wrecks would have been a bad luck shame, yet ultimately my fault and avoidable.

So, threes.  This stuff always happens in threes.

Back now to barrelling ass down 22 outside of Pittsburgh, 25 over the speed limit, with a bee in my bonnet trying to get somewhere I really should be in no hurry to get to.   By this time, I'm getting pretty far out of the burbs.  I'd left the last traffic light in pole position and had smooth sailing.  I got over into the right lane, which I always do when not passing.  I HATE people who ride in the left lane for no reason.  HATE it.  Makes me want to set things on fire.  But also, my logic is if the cop sees you out there, he's going to grab you first. So I always go out, pass, and get back.  But Mr. Toyota is out there, also in a hurry, and has to get his nose out in front of me, which I graciously let him do.  About 5-10 car lengths.  And down the road we go.

It's not long at all before I see the Ford Explorer with the TROOPER decals on the side and the pretty lights flashing trying to pull out of a gravel parking lot on my right.  I'm pretty sure he just threw the lights on and pulled out of his good hiding spot.  He even waved at me.  He gets out onto the highway and turns the lights off, but he's coming hard.  And here he comes.  And there he goes.  Right up Mr. Toyota's ass, turns the lights back on, and begins his interview.  Nice.  That one was not cheap.

Then, as a bonus lucky star blessing, I stopped at the Sheetz just across town from the Johnstown Holiday inn to grab some munchies and another beer, which would stay cold on its own outside the cooler for 5 minutes.  I masked up, went in, did my business and came out to that afternoon shower, appearing totally unexpectedly out of nowhere.  Damn.  Within 30 more seconds it was raining hard, coming down in, you know... sheetz! (Sorry.)  I efficiently used that time to call Donna from under the awning, then rode across town 15 minutes later without unpacking the rainsuit.

No shower before dinner, but the two other customers and one waitress didn't seem to notice.  Dinner was fantastic, and despite not getting any blogging done, I had two more beers to enjoy upstairs, no alarm to set, and I knew by heart 7 different ways to make the 4 hour ride home tomorrow.  Sweet.