So here I am. Again. Six years ago I was in this exact same motel. I remember because I walked over to White Castle to get something to eat. It is the first and only White Castle I've seen. The picture here could be the house of the woman who let me sleep in her backyard the night before the last day of the first attempt. I can't remember exactly, but it seems familiar. I remember how crappy the roads are around here. Not just the shoulder, but the lane as well. The only other thing I recognized was a restaurant I had eaten at. It's now closed down.
Tomorrow I cross into Canada, and if my experience is the same as last time I'm going to be forced to find transport over the bridge. That means calling for a cab.
Today marks five weeks on the road. Because I'm so close to New York I feel as if I'm done, or I should be done, but then I realize I still have another week. And a week is still longer than any bike trip I've ever done in the past. A lot of miles left to cover. At the same time, the miles have been flying by. Not in terms of speed, but in routine. 75 miles a day is as nothing now. And honestly, Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Michigan I'm sure have their own distinct personalities, but to me they have been far too subtle to detect. One day is very much like the next lately. Am I anxious to get home finally? No. But I can't wait to see Von Reno again!
3 comments:
I hope you got the second round of pictures I sent of Nate. He is so different... no more colic and he smiles and laughs all the time. Jay plays the guitar for him almost every night and he loves it. You will have to add some songs to his repertoire.
We have a song where Timmy is singing with Billy playing the guitar.
Felt the urge to share some lines of one of my favorite poets...T.S. Eliot
The Journey of the Magi
"A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter."
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty, and charging high prices.:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I have seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.
You are nearing the end of your journey Tim - the destination has been your goal, yet the ride has given you so much more...it's hard to let go of....So as you make your way home - enlightened in ways that many of us have yet to experience - lucky you will have all of these precious moments encapsulated within you.
You are a new man Mr. Fisher!
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