The last bits and pieces: comeuppance, a dream deferred--in other words, the usual.
And the thing I had with me I couldn't do this without, as always, is the incredible support and love from my fam and friends, who should surely be tired of me doing shit like this by now and yet still say “That’s awesome!” whenever I announce my next crazy plan.
x
I stopped for one last fill-up approximately a kilometer from
the bike rental place. I had my lady cued up in my ear but something went
terribly wrong: she was trying to help me, the lady, but we weren’t in sync and
I couldn’t follow her directions and so I rode around in circles (literally—Australia
is gaga for roundabouts) for a good 15 minutes, the whole time chanting to
myself Most accidents happen within 5
miles of home, stay to the left, look
to the right, most accidents happen within 5 miles of home. The temperature
was creeping up, of course, so by the time my lady and I figured out where we
were, I only had to wait for about 37 cycles of this one light so I could make
a right-hand turn and finally—FINALLY—I was done. I heeled the stand down for
the final time, swung my leg over, and there was Neville, the Friendly Motorcycle
Guy. He came up saying “Hello,” then, as I pulled my helmet off, he
did a little double take and made an even friendlier hello—“You’ve been gone a
while, haven’t you?” Indeed!
I’ve covered as many as I could of all the wonderful things
that have happened on this trip, and a few of the not-so-fun ones (WIND, RAIN,
COLD, WIND); I saved a couple more not-so-funs for the post-ride summary. Along
with the all the other emotions, turning the key for the final time does bring a tiny frisson of relief. There are a fair number of ways a person can get in trouble
on a motorcycle, and while I wasn’t about to get into this until the bike was
safely back (look away, mother!), many many many of the miles I rode were
through seemingly isolated places with very little traffic or people. Which is
to say, there were plenty of opportunities for anything from a flat tire to a
miscalculation in a turn to create a potentially “interesting” situation. I
have often wondered if I would have the stamina to saw my own arm off, if I
needed to—I feel like I would want to
but not be able to—but obviously I am
glad that this was not the trip on which I had to find out.
But seriously, I was fortunate to have only a few minor
issues—bulb out, side-stand sensor broken, THE BEE STING (still hurts). I did
drop the NZ bike twice (John the Friendly Motorcycle Guy, the New Zealand Book
Club Edition, knows all about these incidents, fear not)—the first time I was
trying to get out of a parking garage but the whatever wasn’t registering the
weight of the bike so I needed to go around the arm-thing. So I did, glibly and
confidently, completely forgetting I had a pannier on the right side. It just
kissed a pole and boom I went over on the left. To make the whole situation
even more comical, without realizing it I had been trying to go out the “in”
door to the garage, and of course a car pulled up one second after I tipped
over, and so there’s me trying to get organized to pick up the bike while
everything is awkwardly wedged under the arm-thing and this older woman is
getting out of her car and saying “Oh, dear” at me. A random person walking by
just came up and helped me give a heave and the bike was back up and out of the
way—he said, “All good?” and I said “Yes, thank you!” and he gave me a thumbs
up and was gone—and the older lady oh-deared back to her car and took a ticket
and pulled into the garage. I slunk away to go over the bike and think angry
thoughts about what an idiot I am.
The bike had crash bars on so the only damage was a little
scratch to the bar end on the left and, of course, the clutch lever
snapped off. Clutch levers, FYI, are made of spun sugar and/or glass, depending
on the model year, and they snap off in a stiff breeze, not to mention when 500
pounds of motorcycle lands on them. Fortunately, I lost only the very tip of
the lever, the sort of decorative little whirly bulb, so the clutch still
functioned and there was a BMW dealership three miles away where I was able to
get it replaced in about 6 minutes. No other damage besides a minor bruise to
my pride and I did not forget about the panniers again.
The second time I was coming to a stop in one of the
scenic-area pull offs. Tbh, I don’t actually know what happened—one second I
was putting my foot down and then next the bike slid out from under me and I
went over to the right and landed awkwardly on top of one of those low chains
that delineate the end of the parking space. That part happened in slow motion
and so I got to feel slow-motion foolish. I untangled myself and got up and
turned the bike off, and I saw a man sitting at a picnic table with his family stand
and start walking toward me. He wasn’t running or half-jogging, just walking
purposefully, and he helped me pick up the bike without a word. Once it was up
and the stand down he said “Okay?” (I am not sure that English was his native language)
and I said “Yes, thanks so much,” and he gave me a thumbs up and strode away. I
think there was some oil or something slick on the ground and my back tire went—see
that brown spot (picture taken post whoopsie-doodle)?
I’ve been thinking about these two helpers (in my mind they
are the Thumbs-Up Guys) vis a vis the Yard Work Guy who so annoyed me by
providing unwanted and repeatedly declined “assistance” moving the bike. I guess
the difference is that when a bike goes over, the instinct is to get it up
right away (my old V-Star had a nice feature where the gas tank would slowly empty
if it was on its side*), and while I can and have picked a bike up myself
(there is a trick!), there’s something about the quick, in-and-out, extra pair
of hands that doesn’t feel invasive or condescending. So, thanks, Thumbs-Up Guys—then
and now I appreciate your help.
Lesson 4** of motorcycling is, for me, about checking my ego
and being okay with asking for/receiving help. I still find it extremely
difficult/upsetting to make a public error, but I do it all the time, lesson 3,
so I am trying to be okay with it. The other morning I was moving the bike in a
parking lot (the story of my life) and had left the side stand down, which is,
in my opinion, not exactly a hangable offense, but in this instance it scraped just
a little against some uneven pavement and for a splitsecond it felt like the
bike was about to go over but I managed to catch it and everything was fine. A
man happened to be walking by and he was like “Whoa, I thought you were going
to throw a wobbly there,” and I said, “Haha, right? I thought so, too!” and
then we both laughed and no lightning came out of the sky and smote me for
getting something wrong/doing something marginally stupid as I really should
have clocked the uneven pavement in that parking lot.
Also, I once rode for 11km with precious Fanny perched on
the top of a pannier instead of secured around my waist (this is the
equivalent of leaving your purse or wallet or coffee on top of the car). I
happened to catch a glimpse of a strap blowing in the mirror and at first thought
it might be my RokStraps come loose, but to my HORROR I realized it was Fanny. I
triple-checked Fanny was safely buckled in approximately every 45 seconds from
then on. But that’s it—the trip was truly exceptional and everyone was so nice
and I saw sooooooooooo many animals and there is something about being out there on a bike, on a twisty crazy
road somewhere in the wilds of New Zealand or rural Australia, and getting all
the sights and sounds and smells and the rhythms of the road and the feel of
the throttle and that’s a place I am really glad I got to live in for a little while.
There is a terrible storm blowing through Sydney today—lashing
wind and torrential rain, the whole nine yards—and I am so grateful to have a
little down time to take a breather before jumping on a plane tomorrow (maybe—this
wind is bonkers). I downloaded a block of New
York Times Tuesday crossword puzzles this morning and gluttonously did all
20 right in a row, which is pretty much the epitome of self-care, and then I’ve
been slowly doing some housekeeping and organizing and I went to bed at 9 pm
last night and probably will again tonight.
But first, a fun fact about the bird with the head spike—it’s
a crested pigeon and it has a specially adapted wing feather that causes a
noise to be made when wind goes over it, which science thinks might be a noble
gesture to draw a predator’s attention to the birds in the air and away from
any still on the ground but there is NO explanation to be had for why it
has/needs a spike on its head. I mean, come ON—what is the deal with your head
spike, bird?
A few random wrapping-up notes for my dotage…
Things I brought but did not need:
- Bathing suit—why did I think I would need one? I haven't needed a bathing suit in like 7 years.
- Riding jeans—I had overpants; Kevlar-lined jeans were surplus to requirements
- Dumb heated jacket that wasn’t supported by the bike battery—it’s possible I could have done enough research to figure out what voltage my jacket drew and what the bike could output but already my eyes are glazing over so meh no big deal.
Things I am glad I had with me:
- Electrical tape, which came in very handy for taping up the shampoo bottle that wanted to pop open and shampoo everything
- A box of power bars—there were times when they were my meal option
- A pannier-sized flask of whiskey I picked up at Duty Free (is that a scam?) and was happy to see when I got off the bike after some of the most “interesting” rides
- My handlebar phone mount
- A pen
- Hand sanitizer
- A TON of podcasts. I listened to:
o
Dr. Death (sad and scary but good)
o
Heavyweight (meh)
o
Revisionist History (LOVE)
o
Serial season 2 (LOVE)
o
Serial season 3 (LOVE)
o
Slow Burn season 1 (fascinating!)
o
Slow Burn season 2 (very interesting!)
o
Crimetown season 1—Providence, outstanding and
insane
o
American Scandal—BALCO, very interesting
o
American Scandal—New York State of Crime, which
is about Albany, which was weird but it was really good
o
The Habitat (awesome)
o
Thunder Bay (excellent!)
o
Some episodes of Criminal, which were
interesting
o
A bunch of This American Lifes, the best thing
ever created
Finally, if I may be so bold as to offer a note, Australia/New
Zealand: consider the notion of regular coffee. It is SO much quicker and
easier and many people enjoy it! You can still spend 45-50 minutes laboriously
making your flat whites AND serve up a cuppa joe in seconds should regular coffee
be all a person is looking for. Just something to think about, but overall 12/10
excellent work with your countries (MAJOR points off for the flies, Australia—New
Zealand is carrying you here) and thank you again for this trip.
Xo
Casey
You’re welcome: this is the next picture in the lip-fly
series—I had barely registered it was there and it had already jumped to another
part of my face and I am DONE with you, flies.
*It got knocked over while parked on the street in Park
Slope a couple of times, and I dropped it in a parking lot once when my foot
slid on my mortal enemy,*** gravel.
**Lessons I Have Learned Motorcycling
1: I’m stronger than I think I am.
2: I’m capable of more than I realize.
3: The trip will be what it is and I’m only in control of
how I experience that.
4: Just when I think I’ve got it all figured out,
comeuppance is right around the corner.
5: I’m on my own to figure stuff out, no matter how warmly
technology might embrace me when I’m dry and getting a signal.
6: Not every ride is a fun one: sometimes I just have to put
my head down and go.
***Taking the Animal, Vegetable, Mineral approach, my mortal
enemies are: the long-finned eel (all eels in general really), eggplant, and
gravel.
The trip:
10/19: NYC
to Sydney
10/20:
Sydney airport hotel
10/21:
Christchurch
10/22: Twizel
10/23: Omaru
10/24:
Dunedin
10/25:
Dunedin
10/26:
Dunedin
10/27:
Dunedin (rain day)
10/28: Invercargill
10/29:
Invercargill (motorcycle museum & yarn shopping!)
10/30: Te
Anau
10/31: Te
Anau (broken sensor & GLOWWORMMAGGOTS)
11/1: Fox
Glacier
11/2: Fox
Glacier (glacier, KIWI)
11/3: Fox
Glacier (rain)
11/4: Fox
Glacier (more rain)
11/5: To Christchurch
and the airport; overnight in Sydney
11/6: Kiama
11/7: Kiama
(rain)
11/8:
Canberra
11/9: Canberra
(KOALAS)
11/10:
Jindabyne
11/11: Lakes
Entrance
11/12: Lakes
Entrance
11/13:
Torquay
11/14:
Worramnboll
11/15:
Bendingo
11/16:
Beechworth (ECHINDA)
11/17: Beechworth
(more yarn!)
11/18:
Beechworth
11/19:
Bathurst
11/20: Karuah
11/21: Karuah
11/22:
Kandos
11/23: Kandos
(rain/wind)
11/24: Dubbo
(dubbo!)
11/25:
Tamworth
11/26: Port
MacQuarie
11/17: Sydney
11/28:
Sydney
11/29: NYC
In conclusion, maybe the most poignant moment of the past six
weeks. I followed this guy around for ages and s/he pretended to be cool with
it and then finally lost his/her bottle and found a place to bury his/her face
in the grass and hope I went away.
I was so fascinated by this creature that I took ruthless
advantage of his/her stillness to creep even closer. It was only when I was so
close I could see his/her little sides heaving that I realized I might be being
a terrorist so either the echidna is a heavy breather as a matter of course or
this particular creature somehow sensed my deepest desire, for it and me and
the emu and Turbo and the koalas and some platypus and a bunch of macropods to
all go live together happily ever after. I gave that dream one last moment then
bid it farewell and tip-toed away. Despite how he (did you know all orange cats are male??? and all tortoiseshell cats are female?????) looks like an angel while sleeping, Turbo would be a nightmare in that household
and surely the echidna would never forgive me.
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