Happy Halloween!
It’s Halloween Eve, which is to say the eve of All Hallows’ Eve, and everyone and their brother with a creative outlet is doing a Halloween-themed entry. I’d like to tell you I’m better than all that. I would love to say I’m going against the grain, blazing my own trail, and taking the path least taken. But I have a confession to make. A deep dark secret. I love Halloween. Halloween is without a doubt my favorite holiday of the year. Since I was just a wee shaver, I felt drawn to monsters, horror films, and the macabre. October was the one month of the year everyone else seemed to immerse themselves in this world with me. Horror films, dark humor, and the celebration of all things that go bump in the night took over for one whole month. It was glorious. And it still is. I never lost my enthusiasm for the spooky things and places of the world, and I want to spend some time in this blog talking about the scarier moments from our trip. They’re likely not the moments you would think. A few films have informed public opinion about rural America: Deliverance, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and The Hills Have Eyes all come to mind. The plots share some similarities; namely, a group of city folks are terrorized by disturbed individuals who live beyond the edges of civilization. As a city boy myself, you would think that I’d carry some residual fears with me across the country. In all honesty however, I never felt unsafe in rural America. The people we met were...
Nashville: Part 2
Nashville. The name has weight. It’s a city with a history and for many it conjures up images of blue jeans, cowboy hats and country stars. That was the city in my head, but it wasn’t the city before my eyes. As we rolled into Nashville, Jeremy and I were nearing the limit of what we were willing to endure for the day. Once we hit the city, the humidity rose, the sun beat down, traffic brought us to a crawl, and we were sick of sitting. We had been on the road for 8 or 9 hours, and the last thing we wanted to do was sweat it out as we inched toward our destination. Covered in bugs and road dirt, it goes without saying, we weren’t exactly feeling funky fresh. But as we would learn, the tougher the ride, the more we would appreciate the destination. We were soon saved by the good graces of our interviewee, and it wouldn’t be the last time. Lacey was kind enough to put us up pre-interview, so we could shower and hydrate. It’s a good thing too since the alternative was to look (as the kids say) like a hot mess on camera. Jeremy took this interview on solo for reasons which may or may never be explained in the show due to the magic of editing. The short of it is, I was exploring the local landscapes and taking in as much as I could. I found Nashville fascinating. In many ways it reminded me of Brooklyn. It was young, it was active, it had great food and terrific...
Nashville, Tennessee
Riding through Virginia, I had the creeping sensation we overestimated how many miles we could put down in a day. On the ride to Tennessee, I was sure of it. By our math, we’d be on the road for 9 hours before arriving in Nashville. At best we would have an hour and a half for breaks, gas, and food. Getting to our location on time was going to be a challenge. I’ve spent 9 hours in a car before. It can get uncomfortable, but you’re generally seated in a plush chair with all the amenities nearby: aircon, snacks, banter to pass the time, maybe even an audiobook. 9 hours on a stock motorcycle (that was not designed with this kind of trip in mind) is another story altogether. Legs cramp, hands turn into claws, and backs and shoulders scream. It was at this point that Jeremy and I began to develop increasingly elaborate ways to stretch out while riding. We crouched low, hugging our tanks, or sat tall to stretch weary backs. We rode one-handed, speeding up enough to coast on the clutch and give our throttle hands a break. I slid back on my seat, and back again, and back again to shift pressure points. Somewhere along the way, I developed a stretch I dubbed the “chicken leg.” I’ll spare a description of it, but I’m told it looked equal parts ridiculous and rude, though Jesse Boom sure got a kick out of it. The longer we rode, the less effective these stretches became until we finally gave in and stopped for the occasional break. This bit...
Recovery?
So, how does one recover from a month long trip?
