If you are rant-phobic, skip over this post!
I am usually a happy and content man. I have a wonderful wife, daughter, dog, cat, KTMs, a big dirty truck, a job with a great boss, a developing country nearby that I can ride in, and a few fantastic San Diego beers in my fridge.
Today, however, I am feeling depressed. I am depressed because of self-awareness. I am finding it difficult to ignore my leash. My two day leash. I am more aware of my two-day-leash because those in command have decided to give the peasants a three day leash.
We get to think about going just a little further before we have to turn around and come back. An extra day of dust and gas and tires and beers and sweaty camping! This in itself is not making me sad.
I have been thinking about my birthday weekend in about a months time (I sound like a little kid). I'm thinking of stretching out another three day leash and heading south. I am looking for another little pizza slice of the one and a half day circle that I get to explore. It is funny to think that gas could be a major problem less than a day away from San Diego. I am not someone who likes to blaze down the freeway on a two wheeled couch to test the constraints of my leash. I like exploring skinny singletrack trying to tie my leash in a knot.
A few years back, when Dick Cheney was busy shooting friends in the face, and lots of us were starting to get in line, getting ready to hand our houses over to the banks that were lending us more money than we could ever pay back, I was not aware of the carrot-effect. Then the economy took the shit that only the blind hadn't seen coming. I saw it coming, but was too sedated by an easy life, large TV, and larger mortgage payments, to do much to get out of the way of the shit. So, the bank took back their house. Some yahoo in a honda civic T-boned my new Dodge truck. My mortgage payment (or attempts at payments ) went away. And somehow I felt better. I hadn't sold my bikes, just to stay in the house for another few months. I kept the bikes and got out of the house early.
The carrot was gone! My life changed a lot. I still had my bikes. I had food and beer. I cancelled the evil cable and felt free-er than I ever had since coming to this country. I moved to San Diego and rode a lot in the nearer parts of Mexico.
I have been content - till yesterday perhaps.
I went for a little dirt bike ride around Ramona. Something was wrong. I purposefully got the bike stuck a few times to see whether a little excitement might perk me up. I did enjoy the process of getting the bike back on the trail, but then my one hour leash snugged up tight and I turned around and came home. I am depressed because I am aware of the leash. When I wasn't aware of the carrot, I wasn't depressed by it. I only became aware of the carrot when I became aware of the absence of the carrot. Now I am aware of the leash while the leash is still here.
Like the rest of you that inhabit the 'Day Trippin' zone, I read enviously about the hardy folks in the 'Ride Reports' zone. Those folk somehow have longer leashes. A few of them have even cast off their leashes and are running free. Some of the Ride Report readers sometimes ask the far-away writer "If you don't mind me asking, how do you do it?" The writer offers to pm the wishful reader. Do they explain how they can afford to go, or how they figured out how to get a longer leash?
Thanks for listening. I feel better now. I used to have no leash. I left my parents home on a bicycle in 1993 with three thousand dollars. That lasted me a year and got me half way around this little planet. I now live with a wonderful wife in a place where I can hear a pack of coyotes howl each night, and Mexico is less than an hour away. I am content and finally sleepy, and I am aware of my leash. At least I can dream about my time off between Christmas and New Year, and how Rollergirl and I are going to ride to Cabo San Lucas and back. Ten day leash! Yay!
where does that road go?