For those that did not follow me on "Darla" this summer, I rode close to 20,000 miles in about 6 months. I went through 10 or so States on several different excursions.

A very interesting observation was when I pulled in anywhere on my Harley. Almost without exception, there was a deference I was given that was not expected. No matter if the people where Americans, or tourists, in cars or on motorcycles.

It was a respect that was almost automatically given to me and my bike. It was even more apparent when she was loaded with my bags and it was clear I was going somewhere, or coming from somewhere.

I was almost always made immediately welcome and people wanted to talk to me. It was like they wanted to vicariously be included with my Adventures. I had so many positive comments on the bike, from men, women and children. I think the blue color helped people feel more comfortable.

Only once all summer, was it clear that I was not welcome in the gas station when I went in to get a sandwich and a drink. I left that town pretty quick and did not stop for about 1/2 hour before I ate.

There was the family traveling in California in a Mini Van from mainland China. The whole family came over to ask me about the bike, where I had been and where I was going. How much it cost and where where I was from in Canada.

A family wanted to talk to me in a MacDonald's in Utah. Grandpa, his daughter and husband, and their kids. Another family from China who asked if they could get their picture taken in front of the bike. I let all of them sit on her and get a picture. The father was so pleased I think he was almost in tears.

In the Navajo Nation where there was no where to sit in the Burger King and was invited to sit with the elders. The hunters in Idaho who wanted to know why I was riding so late in the year. That was mid October. Not late for me.

The vagabond in Oregon who wanted to tell me about his travels and compare them to mine. The Native Americans who never asked me where I was coming from, they all wanted to know where I was going.

And it went on and on. In restaurants, in motel parking lots, in road side fruit stands, on the top of mountain passes.

I never stopped telling the stories of my rides nor did I not listen to their own adventures.

Now, I have been riding for close to 50 years, have so many miles, and ridden so many different bikes, that I have lost count. But never before this year have I had such an experience as I did on my Harley.

It is hard to describe, but it was almost like it was a patriotic act that I was in America, riding American iron... even though I am a Canadian ... that I was alone on this great journey was not lost on anyone ... that the Harley represented Patriotism, and that the bags tied on her, represented freedom ..... that I was going somewhere, other than where I was.... and was on a Journey they could only imagine.

 

Neat set-up on your story...in the 30 seconds it took me to read it, my imagination wandered right along with you.

 

Thanks. Have a look at the Journeys thread and you can spend 20 minutes riding along with me and Pink Floyd.

It's the last post I put in.

 

I'd love to know more about your uneasy feeling when you grabbed your grub and GTFO town...

 

Experienced the same feeling when a friend and I did a cross country. Seldom did we, on the two bikes, not draw out some sort of conversation. Even had two couples traveling together that the husbands wanted their wives to have their picture taken with me and my friend. Felt a little odd but whatever floats your boat.

 

Great stories, thank you.

 

Great stuff, looking forward to reading more of your adventures...b.

 

I was in the middle of Montana somewhere and had about 1/2 a tank of gas, that is about when I like to stop and get fuel and a bite for the road somewhere. I got gas at the pumps with my card and then went into the store. There was about 4 people in there all taking to each other. The moment I went in, they all stopped talking and started staring at me. I could feel their eyes on my back when I was looking in the cooler. When I walked back to the counter, I grabbed a bag of chips and went to cash out. The woman did not look at me, or talk to me. I put my debit card in, paid, and then picked up the stuff and walked out. No one said a damn thing the whole time I was in there.

As I put the stuff in my saddle bags, I looked back at the store and they where all looking out the window at me ..... not smiling.

It reminded me of the scene in "Easy Rider" when they left the bar and I think it was Jack Nickelson who chanted "The man is at the window, the man is at the window".

I saddled up, and got back on the road, paying quit a bit of attention to my mirrors. I stopped 30 or so miles later and ate.

 

Check out my last post in Darla, there is a link to my entire summer there. With music....

 

The moments that are experienced when traveling on a motorcycle are called MDM. Motorcycle Delay Moments. Most want to know about the bike and where you are traveling to. That is why a schedule is not possible unless your are rude and unfriendly and just bug out.