Not that anyone even comes here anymore, which is fine, but I found out today that there are people known as “barstool guys” and this is apparently not a good thing to get called. I can only imagine. So I moved away from the bar and I’ll be at that table in the back corner.
Also, fuck TERFs. Thanks for coming to my Ted talk. (no, not TED, I mean Ted. My cat. This one.)
While I while away the hours in my house waiting for the world to be less fucky (that’s a technical term), I’ve been watching a lot of movies. I have two type of movies I’ve watched – movies I’ve already seen a hundred times, and movies I’ve never seen before but are aggressive at capturing my attention. You see, my attention wanders a lot lately, and to find a movie that can refocus it onto one thing is a big deal.
Movies I recommend if you are having the same problem, but want something new:
Apparently 2017 was a good year for movies. Both those came out in 2017.
Tonight I’ve landed on painful dystopia. HBO Films did an adaptation of Fahrenheit 451 that is visually stunning and as far as I can remember, very true to the source material. You can buy that here if you haven’t read it, I highly recommend it. I realize it’s a bit pricy but if you have the means, please support independent bookshops – or your local library is a fantastic resource! About halfway through the movie there’s a scene that I won’t describe (trigger warning yikes) but as I watched I realized I was crying. The horror of the plot hit me hard there, and I wanted to run to my bookshelves and pull down all of my favorite books and hide them in my bed with me where they’d be safe.
The idea of living in a world where books aren’t just gone, but actively vilified as a barrier to “happiness”, is not something I can comprehend or bear. Books contribute greatly to my happiness, and my mental stability. Without books (okay, and knitting) I would not be doing as well as I am right now. Which, honestly, is not great. I’m not ok. Are you ok? Do you need a book? I can recommend a couple that will provide a lovely escape.
P.S. Michael B. Jordan and Michael Shannon are both in Fahrenheit 451, again with the good lookin’ actors. Also, Michael Shannon was in Knives Out, which is another fantastic movie.
P.P.S. If you have a favorite movie (or book) that holds your attention like this, please comment, I’d like to give it a shot.
The latest issue of Oprah Magazine sports a cover article entitled “Does your vajayjay need a vacaycay?” Apologies, Oprah, but I really don’t know. I’ve never asked it. Ignoring for a moment the most simple interpretation of this headline (thanks but it’s been on vacation for a while now!), let’s ponder the deeper (ha!) question, shall we? (*Disclaimer: I haven’t read the article yet, I promise I will, but let’s just take this from the point of view of a rather provocative headline.)
What kind of getaway would the average vagina-bearer’s vagina like? (I never thought I’d ask that question.) I decided to review all the places I’d like to visit, but from the perspective of my ladygarden.
First, the beach. As much as I love the smell of the salty ocean air, there’s that whole sand thing to contend with, and as we all know from lame frat-boy taunts, vaginas just aren’t into the grit thing. And even though sex on the beach sounds romantic, exfoliation is not for mucous membranes. So that’s out.
A cruise? All the delight of fresh ocean breezes, without the messy parts! Whirling and twirling on the many dance floors, visiting exotic ports of call, potentially meeting interesting foreign vaginas who may also be on vacation with their owners, probably not having much in the way of conversation because mostly vaginas don’t talk. While this sounds like a lovely getaway for the owner, it sounds kind of boring for my vag. Next!
I know! Camping! Fresh air, out in nature, sleeping under the stars. Hmm, I think this only has potential if the campground is of the nudist variety. Then my vajayjay could at least commune with other vajayjays, in a non-judgmental and freeing setting. I’ve never taken my ladyparts to a nudist camp before, but this is as close to a winner as we’re going to get.
Okay, so now that we’ve gotten a little silly (and how could we not with a zinger like that subject?!) let’s just be straight up here. As long as you’re not getting literal sand in there, your vagina does not need a lot of care and feeding. Drink lots of water, don’t put soap where the sun doesn’t shine, don’t wear undies that don’t breathe. Barring vaginoplasty considerations, the vagina generally just does its job and the less interference we cause the better. If things seem wrong, and you can get to a doctor, please do. Even though we can’t give our vajayjays a literal vacation (other than by complete abstinence?) we can be kind to them and treat them well.
Day 5: 227 mi; Day 6: 399 mi; Day 7: 360 mi.
The second half of the trip, the downslide side of the hump if you will, was the getting home part. We had to be at work on Monday so it was time to start heading back. After the sightseeing we started toward western Massachusetts to visit my mom and stepdad. Mostly the day was smooth, other than some issues with getting EZPass transponders at one of the Maine Turnpike exits. It’s the same EZPass but every state seems to handle the paperwork differently and it’s frustrating. We also had what could have been a very very VERY bad moment when my bike cut out power. To that trucker who saw what happened and slowed down so he didn’t squish me? THANK YOU AND I LOVE YOU. Bless you, bless your family, bless a thousand years of your offspring’s offspring’s offspring. We got to the side of the road and examined the bike but could find nothing wrong, so we figured I must have done a super-stupid move like hitting the engine kill switch with my glove. Yes, even experienced riders with years on 2 wheels can make mistakes, but I would very much like to get to experienced and not bork it all 3 years in.
We took a bit of time to stop in Salem, and got some food and went to one of the many Salem Witch Trials museums. After some souvenir shopping we got back on the road. We had planned to swing by my brother’s house to see my new niece, but there was a bat and some emergency management of that situation so we had to curtail that plan. Leaving Salem, we drove through Peabody. I just want to pause here to give a shout out to that lady who cut us off TWICE as we were leaving the gas station. If I had learned to ride a motorcycle in Massachusetts, let’s just say I would have said “fuck it” and not bothered. Gas station lady was one of MANY people who decided we could be fun targets for their cars.
We finally arrived at Mom and Duane’s late evening, just as it was starting to sprinkle. After getting everything inside we settled in for a relaxing evening of catching up. I got to see Sammy, their pit bull mix, for what turned out to be the last time. Sammy was a gentle giant who didn’t know his own limitations, even toward the end when he was hurting all the time. He still had a tail wag and an enthusiastic greeting for his people.
Just before we left Mom’s we had her take a photo. Aren’t we just adorable?
The next morning, Saturday, we started off in the rain. I got us lost finding the damn turnpike. Dear Massachusetts, your MassPike entrances don’t have to be like entrances to secret lairs. You can label shit better, no one will be mad, I promise. We did find the turnpike finally, and started hauling ass toward New York. We got maybe 30 miles across the state line when it started raining. We stopped at an underpass and got on as much rain gear as we could on the side of the road, then waited for a lull in the rain so we could find a service area to put the rest on. The whole day was a miserable downpour. The silver lining is that cagers leave you a wide berth because if you’re crazy enough to ride in the rain they want nothing to do with you. Either that or they’re terrified you’re going to slip and go under their car so they give enough room to avoid that.
I do look hella sexy as a dayglo green Stay-Puft Marshmallow Chick though, and no one can convince me otherwise.
After a brief panic in which I took us to the wrong hotel, we found where we had actually made a reservation in Buffalo and brought everything in for the night. All I remember about the hotel is a billion teenage girls on some sports team and the wing place across the street that was damn delicious. They claimed to be the first wing place ever, I didn’t bother looking it up, I was too tired. Those were damn good wings though. Sunday morning we took off in an even more torrential downpour than the day before. At this point, anyone who calls me a fair weather rider can suck it. We rode through most of Pennsylvania’s northwest corner in the mess, finally coming into dry weather just outside Ohio.
Then the wind started. Oh holy hell, the wind. Sustained winds high enough that we had to lean into it, plus gusts that may or may not have been pushing the same direction. All in all it was exhausting. But we only had a few hours of riding left to get home. We finally reached home mid-afternoon, completely beat. I think we took a nap before we unpacked.
All in all the trip was just shy of 2000 miles. We spent seven days on motorcycles, through some of the best and worst weather we could have had. I got to experience wind-triggered vertigo (google called it benign paroxysmal positional vertigo but it was because of the wind blowing in my ears for 200 miles and this is how I learned how to do the Epley maneuver). I got to show my best friend a new state, and we got to share experiences a lot of people would never get to have. After fire school, I consider this one of the biggest achievements of my life. And I’m hoping I get to do it again, soon, in a different direction to see new and different things. I want to do a solo trip. I want to ride through a different country. There are endless options, endless destinations to explore.
This past summer my bestie became a motorcycle instructor. In a few years I want to do the same, because I want more people to be able to feel as free and alive as I feel on a bike. It’s not just a cliché, folks, it’s real.
Total distance: 146 miles
Morning thoughts: Woke up with hangover, but didn’t drink anything last night. I need to hydrate better. Riding is getting easier though, my limit is just my butt soreness and not that plus mental exhaustion. Drank some water, took some Excedrin, head feels better. K charged the camera, so we’re ready to rock. After my phone updates. (Here’s where I mention I’m glad I brought pen and paper for my travelogue.)
This was a pretty amazing day overall. I got to visit Hampton Beach, where I nearly died in a riptide when I was 3. I’d say I taunted the Atlantic Ocean, which is true, but I’d also like to mention that I know better so I stayed away from the water. Once bitten, twice drowned, maybe. Hampton Beach is where I finally took this photo to let my mom know where I was and that a visit was imminent:
(Sorry, random strangers in the background. You look fabulous and I hope you enjoyed your beach day too.) There was a sand sculpture contest going on and one of the contestants was from Ohio, which was neat.
When you’re on a bike, you’ll meet people you probably wouldn’t expect to meet. Case in point: the lovely gentleman with the tiny doglet who ran the parking lot near the beach. He’s also a biker, and was very excited to tell us all the cool things to see on Route 1 on the way up to Maine. Dude, I forgot your name, but thanks for keeping an eye on our bikes while we did the touristy thing.
(Biker tourists are the funnest tourists.)
After Hampton Beach we started north along Route 1. The nice thing about Route 1 is that it runs right along the coast in New Hampshire and Maine. The bad part about Route 1 is that it’s congested as hell, and if you’re wanting to get from A to B you’re not going to go there very quickly. But for a nice vacation stroll up the coast, it was nice. Along this lovely road you’ll find Bentley’s Saloon, in Arundel, ME. If you’re a biker inclined to camp, this is a pretty great spot to stop. We were there on a no-events week, so it was fairly chill, but our friend from the beach parking lot assured us it gets crazy during the bike weeks they have. The food was good and our server was very nice.
We left Bentley’s and stopped at L.L.Bean, just because their flagship store is in Freeport, ME. I got a ridiculous floppy sun hat which coordinates well with the old lady over-eyeglass sunglasses I’m wearing in the photo above. Beyond that it was your basic L.L.Bean store with LOTS more stuff. From there we quickly determined the nearest place to stop for the night and made a reservation at the Residence Inn in Brunswick.
Ultimately, we ended up in Bath, ME. If you’ve never been up there, it’s really cool. There’s a Naval shipyard, and if you’ve read Hunt for Red October you’ll recognize Bath and the Kennebec River as the place where Jack and Ramius ditch the Soviet Submarine. I’m not saying we saw any evidence of the Red October, but I’m not saying we didn’t.
(A very cool ex-bridge over the Kennebec.)
That night we had dinner on the river at the Kennebec Tavern, then wandered down past a tattoo shop having a private party with a local band (hey random local band you were fantastic) and over to Byrnes Irish Pub, which has a very spooky looking cellar hatch in the floor, and good drink specials.
The next morning we wandered down to the lovely Halcyon Yarns, where I got to hang out for a couple hours in yarny bliss while K did some sightseeing. The wonderful ladies there indulged my billion questions about weaving, and helped me see that I really did want to take on a new fiber hobby. I loved walking down the floor to ceiling rows of beautiful yarns. So many options, I couldn’t decide so I just drank in the beauty of it all.
Fortunately they ship so my new loom was safely mailed to meet me at home. Probably good considering the fun that was yet to come.
So far on the trip the weather had been just beautiful. It wasn’t too hot, always a nice breeze without being overly windy, the clouds were perfectly placed to avoid cooking us too much. I don’t think we could have asked for any better weather than what we got. That was all soon to change, although we had one more good riding day in us before our luck caught up.
Total distance: 310 miles
I’m so sick of New York. Seriously. This state is BEAUTIFUL but one can only handle so many rolling hills and lovely little farms. There’s lots of beer here but drinking one’s way across a state is even less smart on a motorcycle. Fortunately they have lots of cattle, which produce milk, which is AMAZING:
Eventually we made it to Vermont. Oh, Vermont. You are my favorite state, by leaps and bounds. No one in Vermont is in a hurry, at least not if they’re locals. People there are so laid back! Gas was reasonable too. Big shout out (whisper-out?) to the gentlemen at the Nido Service Station, who were not only super nice about how the whole pump-your-gas-for-you thing works (it’s optional, by the way) but had very clean bathrooms and were basically the poster children for living the chill Vermont life. Beyond the nice folks, I could go on for days about the geology and how just downright amazing the whole state is. I’ll spare you and just say, go visit. Be ready to relax.
(Do you feel relaxed yet?)
(I like rocks, and Vermont is full of crazy stuff like this.)
After gathering our zen in Vermont, we passed over into New Hampshire. Also a nice bunch of people, but don’t give them cars. If we weren’t on the road, everyone was wonderful. In cars, everyone in New Hampshire turns into a road raging beast. Speed limits are just a first offer. I’m not sure there are police in that state, but if they are, they’re probably afraid of the drivers too. We survived long enough to make it to dinner, and the lovely Lakehouse Tavern somewhere on the east side of the state where everyone else was a regular and we were very interesting indeed. The food was delicious and while I felt a little bit like we were under glass, the people were very friendly and welcoming.
During dinner I phoned an old friend, Alex, on a whim. We’re nearby, are you available this evening? He was! I hadn’t seen Alex in 18 years, not since my Interop volunteer days. We made our way to an excellent hotel he recommended in the Manchester area. He met us there and drove us to dinner at Poor Boy’s Diner, and we got caught up.
It was a good travel day. Of course, it just cemented in my head that eventually I’m moving to Vermont.
Tomorrow: finally, victory!
Total distance: 311 miles
We woke up to perfect weather and wet bikes. It stormed not long after we reached our hotel the night before, and neither of us had bike covers, so we borrowed rags from the cleaning folks to dry things off. My furry seat cover was soaked because I didn’t even think to bring it inside, so I removed it and bagged it for later drying out. It was annoying anyway, kept me from sliding around to adjust my position easily. There was no coffee at breakfast so we decided to find some later.
It was very cool that morning, the roads were mostly dry and the traffic was light as we left Franklin. The night before we looked at the map and found PA 666, and how could we possibly pass that up? As a bonus, it was on the way so we didn’t even have to detour. For what some would consider a rather ominous name, the road itself was beautiful. Quiet, lots of twisty curves, live deer (beats yesterday’s dead deer), and a fun photo opportunity.
After we finished our lovely cruise along the Devil’s highway, we made our way to I-86 to get ahead a little. New York, I love you, but the Southern Tier is not what we came on this trip to see. We’ll be back though.
Along one of the Pennsylvania highways we traveled, I noticed a beat-up little sign that mentioned a Zippo museum. I mentioned it to K, who was excited to go. We weren’t sure if it still existed, based on the condition of the sign, but as we kept going we suddenly found it! The Zippo/Case Museum is this great little building in Bradford, PA, where they have a full history of both Zippo lighters and Case knives, and a showroom where you can purchase every lighter and knife that’s currently in production. So many display cases full of beautiful (and useful!) tools, plus the obligatory tees, hoodies, and other merch one expects at a museum store. We ended up with a few gorgeous lighters (neither of us smokes but we both dig fire and well-made tools) and some souvenirs for the kids. If you ever find yourself in the area, definitely stop for a visit.
Right after the museum, we stopped at a McDonald’s with no AC and malfunctioning point-of-sale computers. The food was fine but it didn’t improve our fast food luck. My general luck was good though, I found $10 on the ground near our first snack stop of the day. We saw a police helicopter sometime that day, and a bald eagle flying over us. I’ve never seen a bald eagle outside of a zoo, so that was pretty amazing.
Overall it was a good day and my butt was doing way better so we were able to add some miles. Endpoint that night was Binghamton, NY. Same hotel chain as the night before, because it was cheap but clean. There was a Harley-Davidson dealer next to the hotel but we left too early to stop in for a t-shirt. We went out for dinner since I was feeling far less exhausted than the night before.
Tomorrow: old friend and my favorite state
Total distance: 247.3 miles
My ass hurts. Not unexpected, but still bothersome. If I was still riding the Sporty I’d probably have stopped here to rent something I could take the bike home in. But fortunately, I had upgraded so it wasn’t as miserable as it could have been. We started out going north on US 42, because it pointed us in the generally correct direction and because it wasn’t an interstate. It wasn’t miserably hot, but it was easily in the high 80s (F) by the time we finished the day. Taking a US highway instead of the interstate system meant we were taking the slow boat to Maine. Slow road? SLOW RIDE!
Things we saw:
(I have to pause here to explain why that last thing is a noteworthy point. You see, I have a habit of going to fast food restaurants that have employees who not only hate each other but think it’s perfectly fine to scream at each other (and in one case, threaten each other with knives) in front of customers. It’s happened 3 times that I can think of offhand. No idea if this is unusual but it is always uncomfortable.)
We stopped in Franklin, Pennsylvania, for the night. At our last gas fill-up I told K that the only thing I wanted was to eat pizza in my underwear, so that’s what we did once we got into our hotel room and found the take-out menus. I was completely exhausted from the ride and K didn’t look super awake either.
A very cool part of this trip was that we didn’t make hotel reservations in advance anywhere. We never knew quite how long I’d hold up with riding, or what the weather would bring, so we just winged it. Unless you’re going somewhere that’s hugely busy, or heading to a big event that will book all the local hotel rooms, I highly recommend taking a road trip where you just go until you’re done going for the day. It’s liberating to not be tied to a plan!
Part 1: the backstory.
My bestie and I decided to take a week off work and ride somewhere on the motorcycles. My new bike (a Softail) is way more comfortable than the Sporty for long distances, so we figured we could totally pull this off. Besides, you don’t get good at long distance riding unless you ride long distances. We planned out what to take, bought communication headsets (Sena SMH-10D are awesome and worth the money!), I bought a big bike luggage bag, and we packed it all up. Our original plan was to go down to South Carolina and beyond, visit my sister, and see the ocean.
The night before we left, we were sitting there discussing which route to take, and K said something about having already done most of the east coast so wherever I wanted to go was good. So I said, where haven’t you been yet? And the poor deprived man hadn’t ever been to Maine. WELL THAT HAS TO GET FIXED. We decided to chuck the original plan and head northeast. I let my sister know, and asked her to keep Mom in the dark about our destination. I wasn’t sure how far we’d get with me being a noob, and if we did get all the way up north I’d want to surprise her. She’s in Massachusetts, but I didn’t honestly know if I’d make it that far, let alone all the way to Maine.
So much was going through my head, so many feelings and worries and the EXCITEMENT, I had trouble sleeping that night. I’ve only been riding since 2016. Going from “never been in control of a bike” (I’d been a passenger a number of times) to “I ride a 103ci motorcycle that weighs over 700lb” is kind of a big jump in 1 year, and weekend trips to Louisville are not what I expected to be doing so quickly. The idea of going as far as we could go and back in a week wasn’t just crazy, it was completely foreign to me. But K has a way of making even the wildest ideas seem totally doable, and he’s the kind of guy you’d want on your side in a bad situation, so I figured even if things went way pear-shaped we’d figure it out.
I kept a journal as we rode, and updated it nearly every night or the next morning. Over the next few days I’ll transcribe it as blog entries. I hope you enjoy reading them!
The Corner Table 