Buying a Harley and Getting Stranded

Timeframe 2000

I started work at my new job as Assistant Controller in Santa Clara, CA in the beginning of January, 2000.    It was the first desk job I had in a long time and I was quite bored doing work in the office, and having to work 8:00am to 5:00pm every day.  I had gotten used to the life of a software consultant, having a varied schedule, sometimes having no clients to go to, and other times working til midnight or later to get projects done.  But, I decided it was time for me to have a more settled work life so that I could enjoy doing fun activities on my weekends.  I decided I would fulfill my dream of owning a Harley Davidson motorcycle, and visited the Harley Davidson dealerships in the area.  I went to dealerships in San Jose, Redwood City and San Francisco.  I also rented motorcycles from a local motorcycle rental shop that was less expensive than the dealerships.  First, I rented a Sportster 883, and after about an hour on it, I realized I would need something with more power.  The next weekend, I rented a Sportster 1200, and I liked the power of it, as well as the way it felt.

I then took time to research the details of the Sportster models.... there was a Standard Sportster, then there was the Custom and the Sport.  I found out that Dudley Perkins Harley Davidson in San Francisco had a Sportser 1200 Sport available to test ride, so I went up and took it out.  The hills in San Francisco are a bit challenging for any rider, but were especially so for me, since I didn't have much riding experience at all, and certainly not recently.  I ended up losing my balance in a turn on a hill and dropped the bike.  A car behind me noticed, stopped and helped me pick up the bike, thankfully.  I then spent some time using my spit to rub off the marks where it had skid on the pavement.  It didn't get hurt too badly, so I thought if I got ride of the marks, the dealership wouldn't know.  I rode the bike around a little bit longer then made my way back to Dudley Perkins.  I told them I enjoyed the ride and thanked them.  When I returned home, my phone rang and it was the sales guy from Dudley Perkins asking me if I was okay.  I said yes, and asked him why he was asking.  He said they noticed there were some scratches on it after I brought it back and they wanted to make sure I was okay.  I told them I was, and I apologized for crashing the bike and not telling them.  I told them I didn't think there was noticeable damage, so I didn't say anything.  They were very cool and said it was all okay, as long as I was okay, it was all fine.

The next weekend I went into the San Jose Harley dealer to check out what was available on the floor.  My brother had always like purple on his motorcycles.  When he restored his 1979 Sportster, he had it painted purple, and he later bought a 1973 Electraglide that was also purple.  So, I decided I wanted a purple 2000 Sportster Sport, but the San Jose dealership didn't have one.  I called around to other dealerships but no one had one in purple.  Since San Jose was the closest dealership, I went ahead and ordered one from them.  The only problem was, it wasn't supposed to get there until April.  I wasn't sure I wanted to wait that long, but I was excited so went ahead and ordered it.  I also kept visiting the shops to see if anyone got any new Sportser Sports in stock.

I would talk about my "Harley on the way" to anyone who would listen, as if I was an expectant mother, and at one point at a party I was telling a guy named Theo about it.  He said he used to ride when he lived in Switzerland, then brought his motorcycle to Cupertino where he now lived.  He had a bad crash, and still had the crashed motorcycle, but he didn't ride anymore.  He said talking to me, and hearing my enthusiasm for riding was making him think he needed to start riding again.  I told him about renting motorcycles and he said he would check into it.  He did look into it, rented a couple Harleys and took me for rides on the back.  He was a really nice guy and very fit... I think he was in the gym every day of the week.  I wasn't really interested in him as anymore than friends though, as he really went a bit overboard with energy, he was 15 years older than me, and really after the heartache I experienced with Keith less than a year ago, I was not ready to even think about a relationship.  I told him I thought of him as just a friend, and wasn't interested in more, and he said he understood and it was okay, but he still tried so hard and I think he hoped he could change my mind. 

A few weeks after meeting Theo, I found out about a "special" that Golden Gate Harley Davidson in Corte Madera was having on their Sportsters.  I don't remember specifics, but it was quite a bit less than what San Jose Harley was charging, plus they were throwing in a credit to cover new pipes and the necessary carb re-jetting.  It sounded like a good deal so I called to make sure I had the details right, let them run my credit to make sure I'd be approved for financing, and called San Jose Harley to cancel my order.  Golden Gate did not have any Sportster Sports in purple but that was okay, because I was re-thinking it anyway, and I thought I'd really prefer black.  Golden Gate had a black Sportster Sport in black on the floor, so I asked Theo if he would be able to drive me up to pick up my new bike.  He said he could, so on a Saturday, Theo drove me up to Golden Gate Harley.  It was about an hour and half away from San Jose, but I felt it was worth it, to get the better price and get a bike now instead of waiting a couple more months.

On the way up, I explained to Theo that due to the recommended break-in, I wouldn't be riding any faster than 55/60MPH, and would probably even be varying the speed so might even be riding slower than that sometimes.  Because of this, I asked him to keep an eye on me and make sure he could see me at all times.  He would be leading in his truck, since I was new to the area and didn't know how to get home... and because I would be on a motorcycle, I would have no way to keep looking at a map.

We made it to the dealership, checked out the black one, I completed and signed paperwork, got the keys and walked out with my new Harley Davidson Sportster Sport 1200XLS.  It was about 6:30pm and we had a long drive ahead of us, so we decided to get something to eat before heading home.  After we ate, I gave all of my things to Theo to carry in his truck... the paperwork for the bike, my wallet and my cell phone.  I knew he would always be right there if I needed anything so I didn't worry about it.  I donned my leathers that I had custom made at Langlitz Leathers of Portland, OR, while I lived in Vancouver, WA and we were on our way.

Emblem from the Sportster that I removed when I sold it.

I remember going down the 880, watching Theo's truck ahead of me, passing people and getting quite a few cars ahead of me.  I was getting a bit annoyed because I couldn't tell where he was in all of the taillights and I was pretty sure he didn't know where I was.  I did my best to just let it go, because at least from this point, I knew my way home, and I figured we would just end up meeting by my apartment.  Unfortunately, around Hayward, the "Check Engine" light came on.  I rode for a little bit, hoping to see Theo, catch him and let him know I needed to pull over, but after a few minutes I was afraid to keep riding in case it was something serious.  I knew it would be covered under warranty, but I also figured if I kept riding and caused more serious damage, it most likely wouldn't be covered. I decided to pull off to the side of the road, and I hoped that Theo would realize I wasn't behind him and would turn around to find me.  This was about 8:00pm and it was already very dark outside, so pulling off to the side, with the bike off and no lights, in black leathers, I was pretty much invisible.  There was nothing around for me to walk to, and even if there was, I had no money on me to make a phone call or do anything to reach anyone.

So, I just stayed by the bike... and waited.  After about an hour, I noticed a cop down the road that had a car pulled over.  I walked over and let him know my situation.  He called it in and told me a flat bed would be coming for me.  I walked back to the bike and waited about another hour.  A couple in a pickup truck stopped, thankfully, and they said they have Harleys, and have a ramp in their truck, so could get me and my bike back to their house where I could call Theo.  I thanked them profusely, and was very grateful for their help.  Just as we got the bike loaded up, the flatbed pulled up, but I told him I was okay and he could go.  When we got back to their house, I called Theo's cell. Thankfully he had an easy and memorable phone number.  Otherwise, I wouldn't have even been able to call him.  When I got him on the phone, he said that at one point he realized I wasn't behind him, didn't know when he lost me, so just went to my apartment, thinking I would show up eventually.  I wasn't angry, I didn't yell, I just figured this was another person in the world who was on some other plane of existence, wasn't reliable, and I just decided it wasn't worth my energy getting mad at him.  I live and learn about people as I go...

While we waited for Theo, the guy did some diagnostics on the bike, found out the battery was pretty dead, so said he would charge it up for me overnight, so I could pick it up in the morning.  I thanked them, and the next day, Theo came to take me up on the back of a Harley he rented.  He had it planned and we were supposed to go riding together, he on the rental and me on my bike.  Instead, he rode me up to the house on the back of his bike, then we rode back home.

Monday morning I called Golden Gate Harley to let them know what happened, and I was very impressed at the way they handled it.  They sent a trailer all the way down to San Jose, to pickup my bike and take it back to Corte Madera.  When it was fixed, they put it on a trailer and delivered it back to my apartment.  It doesn't get much better than that.  It turns out that, because the frame was powdercoated black, the ground wire wasn't making a good connection, so the battery wasn't charging.  They scraped off the powdercoating so the wire had a good connection, and I didn't have another problem for quite some time.

My Sportster pretty new and basically stock except for pipes.

My first ride to Santa Cruz on the bike.  Still basically stock

You can't go home...

Timeframe 1999

I was back in NJ, doing software consulting for my old boss, and visiting many of my old clients, who welcomed me back and were very happy to see me.  I found a place to rent in Lodi, NJ which is only about 20 minutes outside of New York City, but regardless of whether I drove, took the bus or train, it still took me at least an hour and a half to get to my clients, due to rush hour traffic.  I was back in the daily grind of the "commute-work-commute-sleep" routine that I hated so much.  It left very little time for relaxation or any true enjoyment or balance in life.  I at least had it better than most.  I usually waited for the tail end of rush hour and would get to my clients around 9 or 10am, and then I would leave whenever I was done.  Sometimes I was lucky and would get to leave by 3pm and get home at a decent hour.  Often, if I finished my work with a client at 5pm, I would go eat at a restaurant and do some shopping in the city before heading home.  That at least would give me some time to relax and enjoy the time, then my commute back would be shorter with less traffic.

Ultimately, what was happening is that I was remembering why I left New Jersey in the first place.  If I could have found a good job in Ocean County that would pay enough so I could afford a house there and have the "rural" lifestyle I grew up with, I think I would enjoy New Jersey.  However, any jobs that paid real money were all up in Northern NJ or NYC and that required either horrendously long commutes from my hometown area, or living in Northern NJ, which is not something I really enjoyed.  I was also getting overwhelmed with clients again.  There are not enough people in this country that do the software consulting I do, and we are always in demand.  I reached a point, where I would only schedule people on Mon, Wed, Fri, so that I would have a couple days during the week open for emergencies.  I was booked out 6 weeks in advance and my Tues and Thurs ALWAYS got taken.  It was a hectic schedule in a busy city, and after living in the west, it wasn't something I enjoyed anymore.  I had this fantasy of riding to the Grand Canyon on a Harley Davidson motorcycle and that certainly wasn't going to come true if I continued this life in NJ.

However, I knew that Keith's time in Tucson with his dad was limited and I would visit him on long weekends.  I at least got my "hits" of the west and Keith now and then, and I hoped that Keith's next assignment would be as he was told... the Pentagon in DC.  Traveling to see Keith, and having hope that he would one day be about 3 hours away, gave me the energy to push on in NJ.  When I visited Keith, we would go hiking in the desert, along with visiting his dad in the hospital (I really liked his dad), or visiting other family members in other parts of Arizona.  On one of our expeditions, we hiked up Picacho Peak, which is a very big rock sticking out of the flat desert.  There is a point where the climb is so steep there is no way to climb up, so someone, the Parks Service?, installed steel beams with cable joining them.  In some cases, the cable is horizontal, and you must jam your foot between the beam and the rock while holding on the cable, then jam your foot between then next beam and rock and take steps that way.  The last stretch of the hike has the beams horizontal with the cable, vertical, on each side of you parallel to the rock.  You must hold onto the cable on either side of you while walking up the rock, almost straight up.  It was a bit of work, but we both managed.  The reward was making it to the flat top and getting to admire the view all around us.  Below are some pictures from our hikes in the Tucson Desert.

Below are some pics from our hike up Picacho Peak

We will end up at the far left peak of the "saddle" shape.  Notice the smaller rock outcrop further down the hill...

Our view from the top looking out over that rock outcrop.

Keith at the top of Picacho Peak

Keith's dad went through the transplant and was doing well for a few months, but at one point, even though he had anti-rejection medications, his body started rejecting his new heart.  The doctors did all they could and he fought a good fight, but he eventually lost the fight... I think around August/September.  I traveled to Tucson one last time for the funeral and to try to keep Keith occupied for a few days afterwards.  He told me some time later how much that meant to him.  When I went home after that last visit, I knew Keith wouldn't be in Tucson much longer, as the Air Force really created a place for him there.  They would soon transfer him out of Tucson since his dad no longer needed him, and we both were hopeful yet worried about where they would send him next.  It wasn't too long before Keith found out and called me to tell me... they were sending him to Japan.  My heart sank, but I did my best to stay calm and strong.  I told him it would be no problem, I could move to Japan.  He then explained the reality to me, that there really was nothing I could do for a living there since I didn't speak Japanese, and since we weren't married I couldn't live on base with him.  We really weren't at a point where either of us would feel comfortable making a spur of the moment marriage commitment, so when the reality hit me, my knees collapsed under me and I fell to the floor crying, with the phone still in my hand, Keith still on the other end.  He was very patient and understanding and talked with me while I got myself together and calmed down.  I really don't remember what we discussed after that or how long we were on the phone, but I don't think it was long.  We hung up, and I had some decisions to make.

Since I really wasn't loving being back in NJ, and I couldn't figure out a way to work and live closer to where I grew up so that I "could" love my life there, I decided to put feelers out and see if I could move back west somewhere.  I contacted some national headhunters, and waited to see what they would come up with.  After a couple weeks, I received word that they had two companies interested in me in the San Francisco Bay area.  One was an old client in Santa Clara that was looking for an Assistant Controller, and the other was a newly formed company in San Francisco that was made up of a couple people that had been at an old client, but decided to start their own company.  I made arrangements to fly out for interviews and look for a place to live in case one of these opportunities worked out.  I was very fortunate that a friend of mine from one of my former clients allowed me to stay in his guest room in his apartment in San Francisco.  I interviewed with both companies and received offers from both.  I opted for the older, more established company, a well-known homebuilder, and accepted their offer.  I also signed a lease on an apartment that was within walking distance to the office so I could walk to work each day.

Keith and I kept in touch as long as we were both still in the US, and I told him I had accepted a job in Santa Clara, CA and would be moving there after Christmas starting work in the beginning of January.  He was happy for me, but of course we were both still sad about him leaving for Japan.  I spent the next few weeks doing my best to wrap up things with clients and passing on assignments to other consultants.  I also got estimates from various moving companies and got them scheduled to come in to move me when I was ready to go.  I knew the first thing I had to do when I got to CA was buy a Harley Davidson motorcycle and make plans to ride out to the Grand Canyon, and I told my new boss that this was my plan!!  Hahahaha!!

A few weeks before my leave date to go to CA, Keith called me to let me know that some of the high up Generals felt that sending him to Japan was a waste of talent, so they pulled strings and got him moved to the Pentagon in DC.  He didn't really sound happy, and didn't ask me to stay in NJ or give me any indication that he wanted to try to salvage anything of our relationship, and I didn't offer.  I felt that I had already bared my heart and my feelings enough over our time together, and especially with my reactions when he told me he was moving to Japan.  Deep down, I knew that something changed the day I told him I didn't want to have children, no matter how flippant my comment was.  Too many things had happened and I felt if he wanted to continue a relationship with me after everything he would let me know and that would open the door to conversations about our views on children, etc.  Since he didn't, I wasn't going to stop my plans and stay if his heart wasn't in it.  Maybe I should have and maybe he was just in shock after everything and therefore incapable of truly dealing with anything... but I had expressed so much and he had expressed little.  I didn't want to be the one always initiating conversations and expressing myself if it wasn't reciprocated.

So, I went on with my plans to move to CA and decided to take the southern route this time.  As luck would have it, I was traveling west at the same time Keith was traveling east, so we met for one last time in Memphis, TN.  It was a very bittersweet reunion and parting, but it at least allowed for some small amount of closure for both of us.  Once I left TN, the trip out west pretty flat and boring.  The only point of interest on this trip was once I got close to the Bay Area on I-5, I was trying to figure out a fun way to get from I-5 to 101.  I noticed on the map that there was a road called J1 that looked like it cut through the middle of nowhere, so I decided to take that.  I got off I-5 at 180, headed towards Panoche and picked up J1.  It really was a road through the middle of nowhere.  There was nothing for miles and I was really enjoying the drive.  I passed a sign that said some kind of hot springs... I think Mercy Hot Springs.  I vowed that once I got my next motorcycle I would come back to this road and enjoy it on two wheels...

Oregon to New Jersey in a week-- Part 2

Timeframe 1999

This is a continuation of journal entries from my trip cross country.  It picks up from South Dakota....

May 24, 1999
Driving through the rest of South Dakota was pretty uneventful.  Just lots of fields and cows.  I have noticed however, that the bug guts on my windshield are more of a red or orange.  As I drive along, there are lots of bulletin boards.  Some for car and motorcycle museums, some for the "Corn Palace" (not sure I want to know what that is) and some for "Whoa 'n Go's"... their brand of gas station.

I hit Minnesota in the early afternoon and found that the bug guts on my windshield are now a bright green.  You might find it strange that I notice the color of the bug guts, but there's not much else to look at and it's amazing how quickly my windshield gets covered and how thick it is.  I mean after 10 minutes, I've got a carpet on my windshield.  Also, at this point, I'm tired of country stations and commercials for pesticides, herbicides, seeds and seeding machinery.  What I wouldn't give for a Tom Shane commercial right now!!  Hahahaha!!

I stopped in the town of Albert Lee, MN and the first song I heard while I was eating dinner was "Darlin' Pretty" by Mark Knopfler.  I didn't think it was played on the radio, especially in the middle of Minnesota.  I felt a little sad as it reminded me of Keith and I wasn't sure what our future held.

May 25, 1999
Today, I drove through the rest of Minnesota, made it through Wisconsin, Illinois and Indiana and stopped just over the border in Ohio.  The news in western Wisconsin consisted of a couple incidents of deer being hit.  In each case, they gave the driver's name, location of the accident and the damage to the car.  Pretty amazing...

I did stop in Milwaukee for a Harley t-shirt and to get info about the factory.  I found out they give tours on Mon, Wed and Thurs.  Today is Tuesday, so I guess no tour for me.  The lady at the dealership was really nice-- she gave me some key chains and stickers for free.

May 26, 1999
I made it home today.  The rest of the drive through Ohio, Pennsylvania and New Jersey was pretty boring.  However, when I got to I-195 in NJ, it felt good to see all of the vegetation.  I drove across the state to the beach and boardwalk in Pt. Pleasant before going home.  It was good to get back to the boardwalk.  I went to Martell's and had my first slice of Jersey pizza and a fresh squeezed lemonade with the sugar that crunches in your teeth... boy have I missed that!!  Also, there are houses right on the boardwalk, looking out over the ocean, most of them are very nice.  I always loved walking the boardwalk and admiring the houses, wondering what it was like to live there.  There is this one house that has an outdoor speaker system.  It's owned by an elderly couple and they ALWAYS play Frank Sinatra out those speakers.  It's one of those things you can count on.  I had forgotten about that house, but when I got close to it, I couldn't help but smile a huge smile when I heard Frank Sinatra playing.

Since it is still before Memorial Day, most of the people on the boardwalk were locals and they all say "hi" as they walk by.  I noticed them all smiling a bigger smile after seeing my big smile.  I couldn't keep from smiling so big-- this boardwalk was always "my place" and it was good to be back.  I walked to the end of the boardwalk, like I always did... where the inlet and jetty are.  On my way, I hopped up on the unoccupied benches, walked across them, the jumped off, like I always used to.  When I reached the jetty, and older man on a bicycle passed me and said "hi" so I said "hi" back.  The only way to get on the jetty from the boardwalk is to climb through the railing, which I did.  The old man said, "Boy you did that with such ease."  I said, "I've done it a few times."  I went and ran on the rocks on the jetty like I used to and stopped midway to gaze across the inlet, then out to the ocean on my right, then down the inlet to the river on my left.  I wanted to stay longer, but knew my parents were waiting to see me.  So, I ran back on the boulders and climbed back through the railing.  The old man was still there and he said, "Oh you're climbing through again."  I said, "Yup, but in reverse." and I smiled.  He said, "You seem like such a beautiful, happy person."  I said, "I try to be happy.  I'm happy to be back."  I explained that I just got in from driving back from WA state and I came here first.  I told him how important the boardwalk is to me.  I then asked him if he lived nearby and he said he lived just a few blocks away.  So, I said, "Then you know what a special place this is.  "He said, "Oh yes."  He then invited me to sit and chat with him for a bit, but I said I had to go because my parents were waiting for me.  I explained I would be there often and perhaps we would catch up at a later time.

End of the Pt. Pleasant boardwalk overlooking the Manasquan Inlet

 Then I drove home and it was good to see my parents and brother.  We talked for a while and the first thing I did was unpack my stereo and put on my Jonatha Brooke CD.  Finally, some decent music.  They play mostly rock and top 40 out here.  Then, the next thing I did was finish writing this... It's good to be home, have the windows open, and hear nothing but crickets and an occasional dog barking...

 The house I grew up in... and returned to...

Oregon to New Jersey in a week-- Part 1

Timeframe 1999

The following are entries from my journal as I drove from Oregon to NJ in May of 1999.

5/19/99
Today was my first full day in Bend/Sun River, OR.  I will be here through  Friday the 21st, when I will be heading back to NJ.  Yesterday, I had the movers load my things in Vancouver, and I drove here.  Keith was on his way back from AZ and stopped and spent the night plus a couple hours with me at my client.

I've been reflecting on my life in awe over the last couple days.  Now that I'm going back to NJ I'm happy.  It's a been a difficult couple of months, but I'm content with my decision and actually happy to be going home.  I can't believe the opportunities and experiences I've had.  I feel very fortunate to have lived the life I have so far.  It almost feels like I'm accelerating towards something.  I feel like going to NJ is something I'm "supposed" to do.  I know it will help me bring closure to some isuses so I can move on.  I also feel like NJ is not my last stop.  I can't help feeling like I will be back in the West after a few years, but for now I "have to" be in NJ.

This past weekend I was in the Quinault Rain Forest with my friend Rick and saw a wild black bear.  Today, I'm in the Oregon high desert and saw a wild coyote and two does, and for me these are awesome experiences.  I can't wait for the adventure of driving cross country and the sights I'll see on my stops.

Me on a Sequoia Tree in Quinalt Rain Forest

Small example of Quinalt Rain Forest

 5/22/99
I left Bend, OR yesterday about 4:30pm and arrived in Mt. Home, ID about 10:00pm (11:00pm Mountain time).  I drove through Eastern Oregon's high desert.  The further east I got, the more brown and barren everything got.  It was just like the movies where there is nothing for miles, then, in the middle of all, there is a post office, a general store and a gas station.  In 2 seconds, you're through the  "town".  As I got closer to Idaho there were more hills and a river, and there were some ducks and other birds.  There were these really cool looking black birds with white tipped wings and long tails.  I think they are some kind of scavenger birds because I saw at least one of them eating road kill.  This morning I left Mt. Home and am now at a diner in St. Anthony, having a cheeseburger and fries.  I stopped at the Harley Davidson dealership in Blackfoot, ID earlier today to pick up a t-shirt.  The terrain here is unbelievably flat.  The high desert in OR was pretty flat, but there were some trees and lots of little bushes.  Here, there is not much of anything to create texture.  I guess that's how they grow potatoes.  :-)  There was a sign for the Potato Expo.

The rest of the ride through Idaho was pretty uneventful.  I rode north to Yellowstone.  It costs $20.00 for a 7 day pass and I only used about 4 hours worth.  I was going to try to drive the whole park in a figure eight, but the road between Tower and Canyon was closed.  Instead, I drove north to the Petrified Tree, then headed back south to see Old Faithful.  Almost immediately upon entering the park, I saw Elk and Buffalo.  They were all over the park.  I did not see any bears the whole time.  I was surprised at how thin the forest was.  The ground was ashy and the trees were like scrub pines.  I guess that the result of alot of volcanic activity.  There were lots of fields and water too.

Elk in Yellowstone

Buffalo in Yellowstone

Petrified Tree in Yellowstone

The last part of the trip through Yellowstone was Old Faithful.  I had no idea when it was supposed to go, but figured if I was supposed to see it, I would.  I pulled into the parking lot about 6:35pm and got the the viewing area about 6:40pm.  I asked some people there when it was supposed to go and they said around 6:45.  Sure enough, about 6:47 it went off, I took a couple pictures and was on my way again.  Talk about not wasting time!!  I couldn't have planned it better if I tried!

I left the park and drove to Cody, Wyoming where I stayed for the night.  I got there about 10:00pm.  The ride through WY was similar to eastern OR... desert and hills, but WY hills had no vegetation.  They were more like stark reddish brown rock with really sharp shapes.  There was a long stretch of road where they were doing construction and it was gravelly.  Boy, was I glad I was in the car and not on a bike.

Cody, WY seems to be a typical western town.  One street about 15 blocks long is called "downtown".  It seems to be pretty lively though, especially for 10:00pm.  Oh, also not far outside Yellowstone, I drove next to a large lake.  It was still frozen and had snow on it, and along most of the road there was still about 5 feet of snow.  There were quite a few spots along the road in WY where there were herds of wild deer in the fields right near the road.

5/23/99
A strange thing happened as I left Cody this morning.  Late yesterday, I kept thinking of the song by Phil Collins and a female singer that has the lyrics "You have no right, to ask me how I feel..." but that's about all I could remember of the song.  This morning, that was the first full song I heard on the radio.  "Separate Lives"  I had tears in my eyes as the realization hit me that Keith and I would, at least for now, be living "Separate Lives"... and how appropriate that song was at that time.

Another not-so-strange thing (for me) happened too.  About 10 miles outside Cody I realized that I didn't get gas.  I decided to just wait til I hit the next town, Grey Bull.  Well, I got there, filled up, and realized I locked my keys in the car.  It was a typical western town, complete with the officer inside the mini-mart, drinking coffee and eating donuts, and there were three Mexican men who were so close to each other they looked like they were glued together.  Of course everyone stared at the "out-of-towner" (me) as she walked up to the cop and explained she locked herself out of her car.  He radioed in, but the one guy in town who could unlock my car was on vacation.  He requested that a guy who works for him bring the tools over and he would unlock it for me.  He was very nice and I was on my way again in a short amount of time.

I stopped in Sheridan, WY to try to get a t-shirt at the Harley dealership there.  No such luck-- it was closed.  There was a dealership in Gilette, WY but since it's Sunday it was closed for the day.  So, I drove on to see Devil's Tower.  I had to drive on a dirt road for about 5 miles and thought that was what the whole route was, but thank goodness it turned to pavement again.  While I was there, I picked up a vase supposedly made by the Sioux Indians.

Devil's Tower... perhaps you recognize it from "Close Encounters..."?

 I left Devil's Tower and headed for Sturgis, SD.  I got there about 4:30pm and of course the Harley dealer was closed too since it was Sunday.  So, I kept driving and went to Mt. Rushmore and the Crazy Horse monument.

By this point, the bugs on my windshield are so thick, I have to find the clear spots to peak through.  I still am doing 85 in a 75 zone though.  Any gas stations I've stopped at so far have not had the washer fluid and my wipers and washer fluid aren't doing the trick.  I headed back to Sturgis, where I filled up in preparation for the next day, and was finally able to clean my windshield.  I settled in for the night and let myself sleep a little late the next day.  I still wanted a t-shirt from Sturgis and the Harley dealership didn't open til 9am.

I had talked to my brother John, tonight and told him that in some of my conversations with our dad, I learned that our mom was having some sort of stomach issues.  It didn't seem like he knew about it, so he was going to check in.  He called me back later to let me know that dad told him she just went into the hospital and it turned out to be gall bladder issues.  They wanted to keep her in the hospital for a few days to do tests.  I would keep tabs on the situation, but I may not have any more time for sightseeing and might have to just drive straight through.  I'm not really sure there is anything else worth stopping for at this point anyway... we'll see.

Some life changing decisions...

Timeframe 1999

Keith and I spent weekends together as much as possible, and for Valentine's Day 1999 he came down to Vancouver and we went skiing at Timberline Lodge on Mt. Hood.  He excelled at skiing just like he did diving.  I was a decent skier and could hold my own without falling, but Keith could ski backwards with his hands around my waist.  As if I wasn't already impressed with him, this was the icing on the cake.  I still have the lift ticket on my ski jacket from that day... I could never bring myself to remove it.

My lift ticket, still attached to my ski jacket

Keith and I out to dinner... I don't remember if this was Valentine's Day or my birthday.

I always had fun with Keith, and we also shared a love of music, and had really wonderful, interesting and fun conversations.  I remember one time scuba diving from his friend's boat, he was in full gear and did a somersault off the bow of boat.  It was all I could do to jump in the "proper" way, but he did a somersault... with all that extra gear on!!  I think it was that same trip, I had made a key lime pie to take to his friends as a thank you for taking us out on their boat.  When we were walking on the pier to the boat, I was carrying my gear on my back, the pie in one hand and Keith's soda in the other hand.  He had his gear plus some of my gear too.  I didn't see a rope in front of me where the boat was tied and I tripped.  I was not going to lose the pie or Keith's soda, so I held onto the soda and kept the pie in my flat hand.  That left me no hands to soften my fall, but somehow I didn't get hurt.  I spilled a little bit of soda, but saved it, and the pie slid off my hand, onto the deck and kept going about 4 feet, then stopped.  It did not tumble or get ruined in any way.  Everyone was amazed at how I saved it all and didn't get hurt and Keith and I would laugh about that for a long time.

Keith was also quite the romantic.  One night we were relaxing, having one of our epic, enjoyable conversations about anything and everything and he put on a CD by Mark Knopfler called Golden Heart.  It had a Celtic feel to it, and I really liked it.  It was nice, mellow background music.  As one song started, he stood up in front of me, took my hand, pulled me to stand up, took me in his arms, held me close, and slow-danced with me.  I listened to the lyrics and I melted in his arms... if there was any part of me that was not completely and utterly in love with this man, slow-dancing with him to that song put me over the edge and I was full on head over heels in love.  Anyone else could have done the same thing and I probably would have pushed them away and walked out, but because Keith and I had such a soul connection (to me anyway), I felt that he and his intentions, and the meaning behind the song and the dance were sincere.  It was "Are We in Trouble Now" and to this day, if I dare play that song, I am still touched so deeply and tears well up in my eyes...

Keith and I on the Vancouver side of the Columbia River.  I-5 bridge in the background.

 Even though we had so much fun and I really felt like Keith was "the one" for me, I will admit, traveling up to the Seattle/Tacoma area was beginning to wear on me.  I tried taking the train once or twice and having him pick me up and that was a bit more relaxing, though I felt more out of control.  Little did I know that there would come a time when I would have given anything... everything... to be able to make that drive and see him again.

At one point, something about having kids came up and I made an off-the-cuff comment that I didn't want kids.  I really didn't at that time in my life, because I had a career, but I thought perhaps somewhere down the line maybe I would, I just wasn't sure.  But I knew that right then, kids was the farthest thing from my mind.  Keith immediately stated that kids were very important to him.  After that, things seemed to change.  Keith was a bit more distant, then very distant and I didn't hear much from him for a couple weeks.  I didn't push anything with him though, I figured if there was a change of heart or something on his mind, he would come talk to me when he had it figured out.

Sure enough, one day I got the call.  Keith didn't sound real happy and he let me know he had bad news.  He explained that his dad, who had heart trouble and multiple surgeries in the past, was now at the point where he would need a heart transplant.  He would need someone to be with him and take care of him as he recovered from surgery, but there weren't any family members that lived close to him in Tucson... so the distance I was feeling was him having lengthy discussions with his brothers and sisters, as well as the Air Force, over what to do.  It turned out that the thing that made sense was for Keith to move to Tucson, since he was the only one who didn't have a family or other ties to his life in Gig Harbor.  He had talked to the Air Force and while he shouldn't have been up for a transfer for about another year, they pulled strings to get him down to Tucson.  They let him know that it was a bad move for his career and while he was there, he would not be able to take any leave.  But, Keith knew that he had to be there for his dad, so he went ahead with the decision and the move.

While my head was spinning with the news, it just made me fall in love with Keith even more, seeing his dedication to his dad and picking up his life to "do the right thing".  He apologized to me and said when we met he was supposed to be there for about two more years, so he figured that was enough time for us to get to know each other and if we were still together when he got orders to go someplace else, we could see where we were and discuss marriage at that point, so that I could go with him.  He said if he had known he would have been leaving sooner, he would not have gotten involved with me.  It was okay, because I knew it wasn't a permanent situation and I figured Tucson wasn't that far away, and I could travel down to see him.  Then, I got the next big news.  The morning after our conversation, I received a call from my old boss in NYC, telling me they are getting busy and they could use my help.  He asked me when I was moving back home.  After the conversation with Keith the night before, I didn't feel a strong need to stay in Washington, I was missing my family, and I figured I could fly out to visit him from New Jersey just as easily as I could from Washington.  Also, I remembered Keith saying a couple of times that he had been told his next move would probably be to DC and the Pentagon... so with that in mind, I thought moving back to NJ would put me closer to Keith when his dad didn't need him in Tucson any longer.

I called Keith that night and let him know about the phone call and that I decided to make the move back to NJ.  He didn't really understand and wasn't very happy, especially since I put myself on the fast track to get there.  I don't remember my timing exactly, but I think I would be leaving WA in a month or less, and he would still be there.  I think he was hoping I would stay at least until he was gone.  I'm not sure why I was in such a hurry, but I think it had more to do with just needing to feel in control of something.  In my mind, my whole world was falling apart... the man I thought I would spend the rest of my life was leaving and I felt like I needed to do something to keep it together... somehow moving to NJ seemed like it would accomplish that... go figure.

I put the Nighthawk up for sale and sold it to a couple.  The wife was going to be learning to ride and this would be her first bike.  I thought that was fitting, going form one lady to another.  I gave notice at my apartment that I would be vacating, contacted moving companies and made arrangements to move.  I had mixed feelings the entire time because I felt that I had finally tasted the "freedom of the west" and had learned to ride my own motorcycle, and now I was giving up the motorcycle and going back to the prison of the work/commute daily grind in NJ.  But, I had made my decision and had to go through with it.

For the last year I had been working for a local company doing software consulting so I was home all the time and not traveling out of state any more.  They had some clients in Bend, OR and every now and then someone would travel out there to visit clients.  Since I would be driving back to NJ, they asked if, as my last assignment, I would spend a few days in Bend, helping clients that needed help.  So that meant I would leave Vancouver even sooner.  I let Keith know and he said he would be driving down to Tucson before I left Vancouver, and he would be driving back home while I was in Bend... so we might get to see each other once more that way... and we did.  On his way back from Tucson, he came to the client where I was working and when I was finished, we went out for dinner, and we enjoyed our time together.  I don't remember if he left the next morning or stayed longer, but I know I was happy to have that time with him.

When it was time for me to leave Bend, I did so with very mixed feelings.  I was excited to be going back to my family, friends and the life I missed in NJ, but I was also very sad about leaving the west.  I found a notebook that I wrote my adventures driving home in, and I wrote that somehow I knew I would be back west again, but for now I needed to leave.

My next entry will be about my drive cross-country from Bend, OR to Jackson, NJ.... as journaled in my notebook each day at the end of the day...

Will Dive for Love

Time Frame 1998/1999

Andy I were spending alot of time diving and not much time doing anything else.  While I enjoyed diving, I didn't feel like I needed to do it every weekend, but Andy did, and he would make plans with our friends without me and just expect me to go along, which I did for quite some time.  We would drive up to the Tacoma Narrows for boat diving, we would dive in some of the lakes in Oregon, and sometimes we would go out to the coast and dive in small coves.

Me doing a dive off a boat in the Tacoma Narrows

I did more classes and got my Dry Suit training and certification as well as Advanced Diver certification, and I was really enjoying diving.

During this time I also bought all of the dive equipment needed so that I would have my own gear and not have to rent or borrow from others.  By the end of 1998, I was starting to back off on the diving a little bit, and letting Andy go ahead and dive with his friends while I found other things to do.  I would still dive with Andy and his friends occasionally, just not EVERY time.  This seemed to bother Andy, and we started arguing about little things.  I decided for various reasons, this was a relationship that wasn't going to last and broke it off.  Andy was pretty upset about it, but I think he understood.

So, there I was, with all of this new dive gear, and no dive buddy.  Shortly after Christmas 1998, I decided I needed to keep diving on my own once in a while to keep up on my skills, so I scheduled a boat dive on the Tacoma Narrows.  On the boats, they always make sure everyone has a dive buddy so I figured I would be safe.  Turns out, there was a guy on the boat who was also alone, so they paired us up.  I learned his name was Keith and he was a Major in the Air Force.. a Bioenvironmental Engineer.  We discussed the water conditions, since there was a heavy rain the night before.  A good deal of silt had been washed into the Sound and the water was very muddy.  We knew the visibility would be very minimal, but the people running the dive said their experience was that usually the vis cleared up around 20 feet or so.  Keith and I decided to make the dive, but we would hold hands on the decent so we didn't lose each other.

When the boat stopped at the dropoff point, Keith and I finalized getting our gear on and jumped in.  When we were both in, we held hands and began our descent.  I could not see anything in front of me.  I put my free hand in front of my face and could not see it until I touched my mask, that's how muddy the water was.  I was really hoping that the guys on the boat were right and that the vis would clear as we descended.  Sure enough, right about 25 feet, it all cleared up and we could see each other.  We took off and had a really good dive.  We swam along the wall and saw some Wolf Eels poking their heads out, and even saw a couple small octopus.  When it was time to ascend and get back to the boat, we held hands again, and surfaced through the muddy water.  We did a second dive the same way.  In between dives and after the dives we chatted a bit, and I found Keith to be very easy to talk with.  He had a good sense of humor, held a good conversation and was very interesting.  When we parted we exchanged numbers and he said that if I ever wanted to dive up there, he had plenty of room in his apartment for a guest so I was welcome any time.

We stayed in touch and a couple weeks later, we actually arranged to have Keith come down to Vancouver and visit with me.  We drove out to the coast and I showed him one of the coves where Andy and I had dove in the past.  We had dive gear with us, but didn't attempt to dive.  The tides are very strong and you have to make sure you dive during "slack" meaning between the times when the tides are coming in or going out.  There have been many times when divers dive at the wrong time and get pulled out to the ocean and since neither of us had tide tables for that area, we decided to be safe and not dive.  We just enjoyed the coast and the scenery, then drove back to Vancouver.  We went out for dinner, enjoyed more great conversation, and turned in for the night.

A couple weeks later, I drove up to Gig Harbor, which is where Keith lived, and we dove some near his apartment.  We did a dive where we had to walk quite a ways from where we could park, to get to the water.  It was pretty strenuous with all of our gear on, but we made it.  Once in the water, we could relax some, and we swam out for a bit on the surface.  When we swam out far enough, we began our descent and for some reason, my mask started flooding and I couldn't clear it, similar to what happened during my checkout dives.  It flooded bad enough that I couldn't see, and I thought I would be okay because surely Keith was keeping an eye on me.  I just folded my legs underneath me and waited as I descended, with my eyes closed, hoping that soon I would be kneeling on the bottom.  I finally felt my knees touch bottom, and I was able to clear my mask.  When I looked around, Keith was nowhere in sight, so I waited a bit, thinking he would show up soon.  After a few minutes, when I still didn't see him, I decided to ascend back to the surface so we could find each other.  The vis was only about 10 feet, so he could have been close and we just couldn't see each other.  When I got to the surface, I looked around and still didn't see him.  I figured I would just wait and eventually he would show up, but I was starting to get worried in case he was having trouble and I wasn't there to help him.  Finally after a few minutes, I saw him surface a long way away from me.  We yelled to each other and he told me to stay where I was, he would swim to me, which he did.  We decided to end the dive and head back in.

Once we got back to his Jeep, and got our gear off, I told him what happened, and he apologized for not staying with me.  Turns out, he looked away for a minute then back and kept diving with me... or so he thought.  After a few minutes, he realized there was a third person on the other side of the person he thought was me.  By the time he realized he had picked up with a couple other divers it had been a few minutes so he immediately surfaced.  I again apologized for ruining his dive and he said, "Oh, I had a great dive, it just wasn't with you."  We laughed and that was the end of that.  That evening we went to a local bar/grill for dinner and watched some people play pool, and we played a couple rounds.  At one point when we were waiting for a table, he was sitting on a stool, and I was leaned up against him.  Some guy walked by, stopped right in front of us, looked Keith right in the eye and said, "You are a great looking couple.  You better hold onto her, I can tell she's a keeper."  I think it was in that moment, that I really felt myself falling for Keith...

Into the Deep

Timeframe: 1997/1998

Andy and I spent quite a bit of time together and at one point he mentioned that he used to scuba dive.  He was the third person in my life that told me they were a certified scuba diver, and for some reason, I decided that then was a good time for me to learn how to dive myself.  I researched a few dive shops in the Portland area, and signed up for classes at the White Orca dive shop, which is no longer in business.  I was comfortable in the water, since I was born in Miami, and my family went to the beach there from the time I was still in diapers... and growing up in NJ we went swimming in the lakes near our home and at the ocean.  I was really looking forward to learning another aspect to the waters that I loved so much.

I really don't remember the class schedule or anything, but I DO remember that we had a certain number of classes where we sat through lectures about the physics of being under water, the health risks, physical risks, and the equipment, and how, when properly used it can help us minimize these risks.  We also learned how to use the dive tables, so that when doing multiple dives, we made sure we would have enough time at the surface for off-gassing before going back in.  After the classroom portion was complete, we went to the pool with gear, and began learning how to assemble and use our equipment.  Once we got the equipment assembled, had it on, and were in the water, the first thing we did was breathe through the regulators without even putting our faces in the water.  This helped us to see that we CAN breathe through the regulators and we no longer have to hold our breath.  Of course the next exercise was to kneel on the floor of the pool, and put our faces in the water while breathing on the regulator.  That was very weird at first, but I got used to it and really enjoyed it.  We had a few classes in the pool, and we practiced breathing underwater, clearing our ears on descent, clearing our masks under water if they got flooded, checking our buoyancy, and when we were comfortable with all of these activities, we just practiced swimming under water in the pool.  We had a few sessions in the pool to reinforce all skills and get practice before moving onto the final phase of our training.

The last step to our Scuba Certification was the Open Water dives and these would be done over a weekend in Hood Canal near Seattle.  We were told that there is a resort on the canal called Mike's Beach Resort (http://www.mikesbeachresort.com/) and we needed to call to make a reservation to stay there for the weekend to do our "checkout" dives.  Andy was familiar with this place and made a reservation for both of us to go, so I wouldn't have to go alone, and so that he could get a couple dives in as well.  If you checkout the link I referenced above, it looks like a really nice place, and it probably is now.  Back in 1997 when I was there, it was very rustic.  It was nice, but just the bare minimum, not these nice boardwalk-looking walkways.  :-)  But it was nice, it was comfortable, and had everything we divers needed, included air fills on site and public showers to use when we got out of the water.

It was at least two hours away so we drove up Friday night to make sure we would be there and rested first thing in the morning.  We had to meet the other divers and our instructor about 7:00am to assemble gear and go over a briefing for our first dive and get in the water.  It was really nice sleeping there Friday night because the cabins were literally at the waters edge and the water lapped up against the concrete that had been built up as a foundation for the road and cabins.  It was very peaceful and comforting.  When morning came and we went outside, we noticed the water had gotten a bit rough.  There were white caps and actual waves rolling in.  They said this was very rare for the canal and it was usually calm.  I wasn't worried though, because I was used to the surf at the beaches in New Jersey.  We all geared up and got in the water, and then it happened.... I had my first and only panic attack.  I think my BCD (Buoyancy Compensator Device), the vest that divers where, that contains all our gear, was too tight and I couldn't breathe once I inflated it.  I did my best to keep calm, and I might have succeeded, except that with the rough water and waves hitting me and knocking me around, it was difficult.  In the NJ ocean, it's easy to jump into, under or over the waves, but I had an extra 40 to 50lbs on me between the tank, the weight belt (used to counteract the buoyancy of the wetsuit) and other gear, so I could not move quickly.  We were swimming out to a dock that was anchored quite a way from the shore and I was struggling.  I was very short of breath and was having more and more difficulty breathing.  When we got to the dock, I couldn't catch my breath and all I wanted to do was climb onto the dock and get my gear off so I could breathe.  Of course, with the extra weight on me, I couldn't pull myself up onto the dock.  I was screaming at the instructors to help me get up on the dock... this was in front of the rest of my class... the majority of whom were teenagers... I was so embarrassed, but I couldn't help it.  The instructor calmed me down and told me he was going to have one of the dive masters tow me back to shore.  All I had to do was lay back, relax, and let him pull me.  So, that's what I did, and I was so happy to be back on shore and not have all that gear on me!!

The rest of the class went under water and completed their skills for the first checkout dive, and came back successfully.  I was thinking that was it for me.  I missed the first part, so I wouldn't be able to continue and would go home a failure.  Thankfully the instructor talked to me privately to find out what happened.  He helped me make a few adjustments to my gear, and suggested that he take me out by myself to do the first set of skills and get that out of the way.  If I did well on those, then I would be caught up to the rest of the class and could do the second checkout dive with them.  I was very grateful for the second chance so I slowed myself down, really focused on everything I did, and did everything I could to stay calm.  By the time we were ready to go in for my first set of dives, the water had calmed down a little bit, so that also helped.  I was able to swim out to the dock with the instructor this time, and once out there, we took a few minutes to just relax at the surface, and then we descended, holding on the a guideline.  Once under the water, I was much better, and was able to complete the required skills.  One thing I found out was how cold it was at depth!!  I got cold very fast, and was very grateful for those public showers at the resort.  Once out of the water, I quickly got out of my gear, ran to the showers, and with the water on cold, I felt like it was boiling!!  As I thawed out, I made the water a little warmer in small increments until I felt like it was normal temperature, and more importantly, I was at normal temperature.

I barely got warmed up, and the rest of the class was gathering to do the second checkout dive.  So, I walked over to them, listened to the briefing, got geared up and went right back into the water to the second set of skills testing.  We were all able to get through our skills successfully, but I got cold quicker than the first time, and had to endure it longer, since we all stayed at depth while the instructor watched each individual student perform the required skills.  Once at the surface, I again immediately removed my gear and ran into the showers, making the water warmer and warmer until I felt like I was back to proper body temperature.

The next day, Sunday our dives would be at a dive site away from Mike's, so we packed up our gear in our cars and followed our instructor to a new spot.  This area also had public showers, but we had to walk across the street to get to them.  All of us again successfully completed our skills and ran from the water to the showers to get warm.  The difference this time, was that it took a little more time to get to the showers since we had to walk across the street, and in that time, we all had frost on our wetsuits.  Not only was the water cold, but the air temperature that morning was about 30 degrees.  Don't ask me why I didn't think about this and schedule my class for the summer months!!  Our last dive was pretty much on our own.  Our instructor told us to come up with our own dive plan as a group and execute it.  This was our real life practice for when we are diving on our own.  He would be behind us, watching us, but it was basically our first dive on our own.  It was really cool to get to just dive, rather than have the pressure of performing specific skills under pressure.  On this dive, I noticed thermoclines, which I had learned about in class.  It's a point in the water where the warmer surface water mixes with the colder water at depth and the water is blurry and wavy.  This is very similar to when we see heat waves on pavement, only it's under water.

Another thing that happened to me on that last dive was that somehow my mask kept flooding.  No matter what I tried, I couldn't clear it, but while attempting to do so, I ended up slowing down and looking quite clumsy, I'm sure.  At one point, I got most of the water out, but still had some.  I decided to just leave the remainder there and enjoy the rest of the dive.  Our instructor was behind me and after the dive, he came over and talked to me about it.  He said he was on the fence about whether to pass me, because I looked very clumsy on the dive.  When I explained to him that I actually was relaxed and enjoyed a good part of the dive, I had issues with my mask flooding, he understood, and when ahead and passed me.  He explained that I was probably breathing too much air out of my mouth instead of my nose and that's why it wouldn't clear.  The process for clearing a flooded mask underwater is to take a breath through the regulator and blow it out through your nose into the mask, while putting pressure on the top of the mask, so all of the air pushes out the bottom of the mask, taking the water with it.  If I hadn't been blowing enough pressure into the mask, I was most likely letting more water in, than out.

We had to wait a few days to get our certification cards, but once they were made and mailed to the dive shop they called us and we picked them up.  I was now a certified scuba diver!! I would have a whole new set of adventures to add to my life experiences.

Memories up in Flames

Tonight I learned that the boardwalk in Seaside Park, New Jersey went up in flames and affected much of the Funtown Pier.  This is less than a year after it was hit by Hurricane Sandy, that destroyed the Casino Pier in Seaside Heights, just a little further north on the same boardwalk.  The cause of the fire, as of right now, is not known.  When I heard and saw some pictures and video feed, my heart sank and tears welled up in my eyes.  I have been trying to make sense of this destruction, and trying to understand why it affected me so much.  I realize that just seeing pictures of the boardwalk at all, brings up emotions and memories of a carefree time that I will never have again, but seeing it in flames, somehow made that loss of a carefree life even more permanent.  And yet... I also know that nothing is permanent and everything changes, but this logical part of my brain just can't override the emotions I feel at the loss of this piece of New Jersey.

I think part of it is that Seaside Heights and Seaside Park has been there as a family amusement area for many generations.  My parents talked of going to Seaside as teenagers and going to the Chatterbox bar, and many of the other attractions on the boardwalk, and I know the boardwalk is something most New Jerseyans shared with their children, and then their children went to the beach during the day as teenagers and to the bars at night when they were old enough, and then shared it with their children.  It was a tradition, and like many places and events in New Jersey, you feel that family tradition when you go there.  You see families on the beaches, families running the businesses on the boardwalk, and you know that these families have been going to Seaside for generations and will continue to go for generations more.  Seaside Park was the place I went to as a "local".  I wasn't a true local as I didn't live in Seaside, but I lived in Ocean County and was 20 minutes away.  I was more of a "local" than the tourists that invaded these towns in the summer.  Seaside Park was the "secret" part of Seaside, where the locals went to get away from the tourists, yet still be close enough to the boardwalk to enjoy all it had to offer.  While the tourists went to Seaside Park, we locals felt like Sawmill Pizza and the Berkeley Sweet Shop were "ours".

Since I moved away from NJ in 1996, I have met many ex-New Jerseyans living in other parts of the country, and when we meet, there is an immediate connection.  We don't even know that the other is from New Jersey, but we exchange a couple bantering words, we make some jokes and that Jersey sarcasm, wit and confidence that we all possess, instantly binds us, even 3,000 miles from "home".  Then, when we talk more and learn that we are from NJ, we nod and smile, with that knowing look that says, "Now I understand why you get me and I get you."  Then, we start talking about all of the places that everyone in NJ goes to.  The boardwalk always comes up, everyone in NJ goes to one of the boardwalks as part of their family tradition.  Even if Seaside is not someone's family tradition, they have been there and know of it.  So for me, Seaside was always a place that binds us together.  It was a place where people would come together strangers and leave as friends, and even 3,000 miles away, it is a part of things that binds strangers together and makes them friends.

I know that Seaside Park and Seaside Heights will always be there in some way, shape or form, but it is forever changed.  It will never be exactly the same as we remember it, which is exactly the way our parents remembered it, because not much changed there over there years.  It was something you could count on.  I think that this fire... on top of the Sandy Hurricane... has hit me so hard because in the current world, with things happening and changing as quickly as they are, we all NEED something we can count on.  The Seaside Park and Seaside Heights Boardwalk was one of those things we could always count on... but now... we can't even count on that to be the same.  And for me, if feels like the floor of certainty and predictability has been pulled out from under my feet.  Yes, life will go on, but somehow for me, in this moment, it is confirmation that it will be forever changed...

Mishaps On the Wings of My Nighthawk

Timeframe:  Various events from 1996 to 1998

I had a few memorable happenings and mishaps with the Nighthawk once I got her fixed up after my crash.  Rather than create an entry for each one, I thought I would condense them here.  One of my most memorable was my first ride by myself on the freeway.  I thought I might take a trip down into Portland... but that didn't last very long.  You see... in the past, I'd always ridden on the back of my brother's bike, so I always had him to buffer me from the wind.  The Nighthawk didn't have a windshield, so when I got onto SR14 from 164th St., heading west towards Portland, and I felt the wind on me, and had cars next to me, all while we were doing about 55/60MPH, I got scared... yes... I am admitting I was scared going fast on a motorcycle!!  LOL!!  I got off at the very next exit, turned around, and went home.

However, that's not where my mishap ends.  I hadn't quite gotten the hang of downshifting on the bike, and was always grateful when the light was red when I came to an intersection.  This allowed me to pull in the clutch and just get it into neutral or first while stopping.  Then, start from first again.  This time, though, the traffic light gods were not on my side.  The light turned green just as I was riding down the off-ramp and cars were behind me... so I HAD to slow down enough to make the turn without stopping.  I got to the turn but I was going too slow, and wasn't sure what gear I was in, so was afraid (yes, there's that word again) to let out the clutch and give it throttle.  I ended up taking the turn way too wide, and I was headed for the sidewalk under the overpass.  And, because it was the overpass, on the other side of the sidewalk was the concrete wall that supported the overpass.  I was not looking forward to hitting that wall, and to this day, I don't know how I didn't, but somehow, the bike just jumped up on the curb, and got turned so it I was riding on the sidewalk, perpendicular to the direction I had just been traveling.  When I realized that I hadn't crashed, I decided I better keep going, so I somehow got the courage to let the clutch out and give it some throttle so I had power to the rear wheel.  When I was moving successfully, I turned to look behind me, to make sure there were no cars coming, and I jumped back down off the curb as if I meant to do that whole little stunt.  Hopefully, anyone who saw me, just shook their head and thought "What a hooligan" instead of "Dear Lord, that poor girl is going to kill herself".  LOL!!  I ended up making it home without further mishap.

Another time, I decided to take a ride out to the coast.  For anyone who has ever made the trip from the Vancouver/Portland area, you know it is a beautiful ride on wide sweeping roads through the (mostly) wilderness, and it takes about 2 to 3 hours.  I really enjoyed the ride, and it was great getting to spend some time at the rugged Oregon coast.  On the way back, I had another enjoyable ride until... I ran out of gas.  For those of you who don't know about motorcycles, these older bikes (and even some newer ones) don't have gas gauges.  You have to track the miles you've ridden since the last fill up by remembering to reset the odometer each time, know what kind of gas mileage you get, and fill up before you run out of gas.  The bikes DO have a bit of a safety called a reserve, which is usually a half gallon to a gallon of gas.  When you get to that level, the bike acts like it's running out of gas, so you reach down under the tank, and twist the knob to turn it from "on" to "reserve".  Well, I had to hit the reserve on the way back, but there aren't many gas stations along the way, so I didn't make it to one before even reserve gave out.  I pulled off to the side of the road and wasn't sure what to do.  This was before we had cell phones, so I couldn't just pull out my phone and call someone, like we can today.  I was hoping someone would notice me and pull over, but I was thinking maybe I should try to flag someone down.  Thankfully just when I was thinking that, a car pulled over with a lady driving.  She asked me if I needed help and I explained that I ran out of gas, so she said there was a gas station down the road and she could bring me back some gas.  I don't remember all of the details, but I DO remember it didn't take her too long to come back with a gas can full of gas, and I paid her more than what she said it cost, because she had to use her own gas to get there and back, plus take time out of her day to help me.  I was very grateful that she stopped and helped me.  I started the bike and off I went.  When I hit the gas station, I stopped and topped it off for the rest of the ride home.  I learned my lesson that day to pay attention to my gas levels and get gas as often as possible.

Another time, I rode into Portland's downtown 23rd area, known as the "hip" part of town.  I loved it down there, and would often go to a pizza place called "Pizza My Heart".  It was the closest thing I could get to good NJ pizza, so I went frequently.  This particular day, I was looking for parking and saw a Harley Davidson Sportster parked in a spot.  It was parallel parking and there was room for another bike, so I pulled over and backed my bike into the spot, next to the Harley.  As I took my helmet off, I heard a man's voice behind me say, "You don't see many female riders around."  I looked and it was a tall, good looking guy with long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a well-groomed beard and mustache.  We made introductions and I found out his name was Andy.  It was his Sportster I parked next to and he was on his way out.  Later he told me he still had half a cup of coffee left, but when he saw me, he gulped it down and ran over to talk to me.  LOL!!  We talked for a few minutes and exchanged numbers.

The next weekend, Andy and I met up for a short ride along the Columbia River Gorge.  I'd already been out that way along the Scenic Route along the waterfalls, but Andy took us on the south side of route 84 to a little rest area.  We parked the bikes and I thought we were going to a lookout or something.  He started opening his saddlebags and pulling out plastic bags which contained lunch for us as well as a blanket to sit on!!  What a nice surprise!!  He brought smoked salmon, various cheeses, bottled waters, various crackers and other goodies I don't really remember.  I offered my help to carry a bag and we walked on a short path up a hill to a clearing.  We laid out the blanket, sat down, and enjoyed lunch over conversation.  Andy and I spent quite a bit of time together over the next few months.

On one ride with Andy, we were going through downtown Portland and I was following him.  Up ahead the traffic light turned from green to yellow.  Andy hit the throttle to get through the yellow light, and so did I.  Then, at the last minute I guess he realized I was behind him, so he hit his brakes.  I couldn't stop that quickly, but I tried.  I grabbed the front brake hard, and hit the rear brake with my foot.  I must have given it too much rear because the rear locked up and started sliding out to the side.  I could feel the rear coming around to the side and the bike starting to lay down.  I just let it go, and jumped off.  I must have looked quite comical, because I still had momentum and couldn't stop myself.  I just kept running and I ran up the sidewalk, and slammed into the building that was right there... but hey, at least I didn't land on the ground with the bike!!  Andy, came back to help me pick up the Nighthawk, we checked it out and it seemed to be damage-free, so I started it up and we kept going.

Another time Andy and I went riding on the Washington side of the Columbia River Gorge, where the road is twistier and goes higher.  Andy had claimed to be an ex-roadracer and he was a good rider.  This particular day, he brought his other bike, an older Yamaha Seca.  He road through the twisties pretty fast and I'm a competitive person by nature so I was doing what I could to keep up.  The entire ride, I had my front tire pretty much even with his rear tire.  It was a fun and exhilarating ride!!  I knew I couldn't have gone that fast on my own, but having Andy ahead of me showing me the right lines and trusting his riding, made it easy for me to go that fast.  Afterwards we talked about it and I was very excited as I told him how much fun it was for me and I couldn't believe that I kept up with him!!  Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.  I can't say for sure, but I think it may have bruised his ego a bit, because we never went riding together again.  He always claimed his bikes were down with some problem.

This would be the end of my riding adventures for a little while.  I would still take the bike out occasionally, for short trips around town, but I began to focus on scuba diving for a little while.  My next few posts will be about my beginnings in scuba diving as well as making a connection with someone very special... then I will get back to some fun motorcycle stories...