Around Charlotte I started thinking again about how long this trip was and how far I'd come. Sometimes I imagine that everywhere I travel, invisible needles follow behind me, pricking the landscape with beacons implanting and imbedding the coordinates of my existence. At first the silvery slivers seems quite extensive until I begin thinking of all the parts of the earth I haven't seen. Fortunately (or unfortunately) a lot of places are nearly identical to other places. Though I never seem to tire of seeing rows of cornfields (which I haven't seen in quite some time), but a lot of places seem to be near replicas of other locations. Same strip malls are filled with the same stores, people drive the same cars and wear the same clothes, urban planning makes one city like another and television and media regularlize opinions and outlooks. Independent experiences are also starting to feel the same. Points of interest and local attractions in one location have begun to converge with previous locations. Privately owned coffee shops and hole-in-the-wall restaurants are starting to homogenize; individual, distinctive characteristics seem to be morphing into a unified whole.
My normal life was fairly devoid of cookie-cutter-experiences and this trip was going to be no different. There was no purpose of going city to city, state to state if all I was going to do was hang out at Starbucks during the day and order the same items at night off the menu at Chevy's. But if unique experiences are to be devoid of novelty, what will become of the momentum and energy needed to propel me further and further? That nervous, anxious apprehension that accompanied me to each new place I visit has become a quiet lull; the stimulating, excited vulnerability, a vapid, monotone occurrence.
Thankfully, the Panigale is as merciless, raging, brutal and fierce as ever. The law of diminishing returns might apply to most endeavors or efforts, but fortunately the experience of piloting a Ducati is never unexciting, uninspiring or dull.