Ask Me

I’m not sure if this is a new subject for me. I know I’ve told others about it. Last night, I heard Tracy mention it to her brother. Of course, I want to add a few things.

Shortly after Tracy and I married, she had a concert that she wanted to go to. She left hints, suggestions, whatnot for me to get the tickets. I’m sure she was thinking I was dense. I’m sure I was. In any case, as time went on, she became frustrated with me and eventually it came to a fight. I am fuzzy on the details but I walked out, bought some tickets, came home and put them on the table. “Next time, ask me.”

(Tracy has a different perspective on this. "You mean I can ask for what I want? I don't have to hint or manipulate you?")

This was a lesson for both of us. My previous relationships usually had me struggling to be someone that would be interesting. I found I sucked at mindreading. I’ve always had a problem with feeling inadequate in those little things that a woman might expect. I’d do almost anything, but I was an idiot and didn’t know what those “anythings” were. Dating was a horrible stress for me.

When I came back from my mission, I was determined to not fall into that situation again. I had two miserable years of depression and I was done with it. Tracy was an independent person and was one of the things that attracted me to her. I must also add that when she displayed traces of dependency, I had my own little freak outs. (I don’t like the word, dependency, here but I’m not sure what else to say.) Before our wedding, her parents bought her some things in ZCMI and that really stressed me out. I certainly couldn’t afford to do that after we were married. Yes, it was a gift for her but it raised some issues with expectations. We worked it out.

And we worked out the tickets to the concert. We worked out a lot of things in our marriage. We knew we had different interests to the point of taking separate vacations. If she wanted to go somewhere, she would ask me if I wanted to go along or not and visa versa. It wasn’t a reflection of our interest to be together. We had translated that part of our “love-language.”

I mention this because she brought it up to her brother and I also brought it up due to one of my trips. I had met a friend and she showed me around her part of the country. Just talking with her gave me things to think about for years, and I was quite contemplative at the time. She probably thought I was upset. In any case, she was hungry and she hinted, even to a figurative hitting me in the head with a 2x4, that she wanted to eat at this particular place. It didn’t register with me. Remember, I’m an idiot. Never forget that. Burn it into your minds for the next couple of decades. In any case, she didn’t tell me, “Stop here. I want to eat here.” And what followed was a time of frustration for me. I haven’t had to negotiate that language with someone in a long time. I was amazed that I had become so dependent upon Tracy knowing how to interact with me. Sheesh, no wonder people who date later in life or after a partner has died or divorced have an awkward time with this relationship thing. All that stuff has to be renegotiated.

I try to please the people I’m with, and even if I try, there are still issues. I think my only saving grace is that I’m more open to talk about it now. Ask me if you want something, because I won’t know otherwise.

And remember, I’m an idiot.

To Eclipse and Back, Part 4

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Map

The road was still on and off traffic-wise. At some point, I was going to hit Champaign and get back on familiar roads for me. Around 12:30 I looked North and it was a wall of lightning. Great. I knew there was a chance of rain, but I thought I’d be home long before then. Now I’m south of it. I know from its position that Champaign was getting the full brunt of it and soon I’d hit that one-lane construction just south of the town. I had to get off the road and figure something out.

I pulled off the road at a small town called Tuscola. I parked at a well-lit outlet store. It had benches. I went and sat down and pulled out my phone. I called Tracy, just to let her know I was alive. She asked if I could find a hotel. “You don’t understand what this is like. The traffic is horrendous.” Besides, I was so close, relatively. I opened my weather app. HOLY CRAP!!! Just north of me was the edge of a weather system that stretched all the way to Kansas City. Crap!! I’m going to get wet. I hate riding in the rain. At least it is warm, I guess. OK. I can head west, take this road up to this road to this road, to this road…and then I’ll be on IL-47. Take that all the way home. OK. I can do this.
Off I went, so completely ticked off at all that this trip had turned out to be. I loved riding the bike but this was so annoying, still, it is something I can write abou….is that a bird? WHACK!!! A dove decided to spend the night on US-36 and when my lights hit it, it took to the air and didn’t make it past my windshield. Luckily, it didn’t fly up into my helmet. I did a sanity check, decided that I was okay and kept going. I thought I had seen a bird on the road earlier but I passed it off. Evidently, they hang out on roads at night. I wonder why? I turned north again at Atwood and noticed that the roads were wet, but it wasn’t raining any longer. The weather map did show a small corridor of rainless travel. Maybe if I can get this thing moving, I can still slip home in a dry state.

When I reached the town of Mohamet, I pulled over to check the weather again.  A big, big stretch of red, all the way to Elburn, lay in front of me. It was to the west too. Damn. I am going to get very wet. Well, might as well get this done. The place where I would hit the rain was fogged over on my way down. I figured that I would learn to resent this part of Illinois after this.

What can I say about driving in the rain? Nothing good. It is miserable. The sound of the rain hitting your helmet is unnerving. Don’t get me wrong, it is not that bad if you can keep your head dry, but your clothes get heavy. You get cold as the water and wind suck away your heat.  You can’t see very well and you become almost invisible to other traffic behind you. It became an absolute downpour. A few trucks passed me because two wheels on wet pavement isn’t something you want to do at speed. It became so bad due to no visibility and feeling like I weighed 400 pounds that I put on my blinkers and hoped a town was somewhere and that I could pull off the road.  That stopover was named Gibson City, where I had stopped and rested at the Bible Church on the way down. I pulled off the road into a parking lot that was 6-8 inches underwater. I got off the bike after parking at some sort of Mexican restaurant/bar (Pizza Hut on the map but it wasn’t). The time was around 1am. I pulled off the helmet and took inventory and was feeling miserable. After some time, I called Tracy (My new phone was still working!) to let her know that I was stuck. I had moved around to the north side of the building and decided I needed to save battery. I had set my gloves down on a window sill. I picked them up and noticed that the building was lousy with spider webs. I wasn’t nervous, but a little creeped out. As soon as the rain let up, just a little, I’d head to where I saw lights (Yeah, the rain made it hard to see even up the road.) I was hoping it was a gas station or something. Any place to get out of the rain fully.

https://www.google.com/maps/@40.454339,-88.3747333,837m/data=!3m1!1e3

So I got back on the bike after about half an hour and moved the couple hundred meters to what turned out to be a Casey’s station. The bike was parked off to the side, still in the rain and I finally found a place out of the rain under the canopy. I was still soaked and a check on the phone showed rain at least until late morning. Great. Just Great.

After texting with Tracy and a few calls, I resigned to my fate of spending the rest of the night standing there. The only motel in town was under renovation and besides, it was late and there was still eclipse traffic making their way north. After about an hour, another biker came up and parked by the pumps. We struck up a conversation and compared notes. He didn’t have a phone so he kept looking at mine to see when we could resume our way north. All during this, Tracy was making calls to see if there was somewhere nicer where I could sit. She called the police department, the hospital, anywhere to try and ease my discomfort, and I do appreciate that. I’m sure I wasn’t rational. I had been up for 24 hours by that point. I was tired. I was soaked. At one point, I had set my phone in my shirt pocket and it had turned on. I was sending garbage texts to Tracy as the phone bumped against me. One of them autocorrected to something about a raccoon. Tracy thought I was losing my mind or lying in a ditch somewhere.

As the night went on, another biker came and parked. He had rain gear on and we wondered why he had stopped. “My visor flew off. Having your face pelted with rain isn’t pleasant.” So there we sat. Three bikers in the middle of Illinois in a small factory town, taking shelter in a gas station. One of my companions convinced the clerk to put some of his clothes in the dryer they had in the back. I bought some cheese and a meat stick to pay for my convalescence. I hadn’t realized how hungry I had become and it immediately had a profound reaction on me. That stuff was wonderful.

Ok, about 5:30 or 6:00, I was getting anxious and I wanted to get home. I never thought I’d spend the night in a gas station and I didn’t enjoy it. The guy with the broken visor had left around 4:30 but the rain was still too hard for me to try at that time. It was still dark, but I looked on the app, and the rain seemed to be tapering off. The guy that arrived after me wanted me to leave with him. I told him I would but that I don’t go that fast in the rain. So, once again, I put on the wet helmet, gloves and sat on the wet bike. Off we went. I kept up with him to the north part of town where we stopped behind a semi that was also waiting for a train to enter the factory. Once the train left and the gates went up, my companion bolted around the semi, earning him a toot from the truck. I didn’t feel safe to do any nonsense like that so I stayed behind the truck, letting it get a good speed up ahead of me so I wasn’t in its backwash. I think I lost sight of the other guy after about 4 miles.  It was still raining and while it was warm standing still, on the bike at speed, I was beginning to shiver and feeling very uncomfortable. I could feel water pooling in my left boot. Eventually, I just couldn’t do it anymore. Even slowing down wasn’t helping. A few miles more and I saw that I was going to enter another town, named Forrest. I was a few blocks in when I pulled into another Casey’s and parked under the canopy this time. I got off the bike, got on the entrance skirting and took off my left boot. I swear I thought water would come out. Nope, but I was thoroughly wet and miserable.  So I stood there. The sun came started to come up and the rain slacked a bit more. I could feel the exhaustion start to sneak in around the corners of my mind. I needed to get home because I knew there wasn’t much between here and there.

When the light came up, I slipped on the wet boot. Who knows what people thought when the filled up for their morning commute and saw a guy standing there with one boot on and one boot off.  Anyway, I figured that with the lower rain volume, I could go 10 or 15 miles and stop somewhere to warm up. I’m going to be wet regardless. Might as well get used to that. So I got back on the road, crossed the train tracks, and headed north. About the top speed I could do was 45 before I became uncomfortable and shiver all the time. It was still raining, but more of a sprinkle at this point. I was still soaked. I didn’t make it too far before I had to stop again. This time in a Marathon station in Saunemin. Another half an hour watching traffic go by. I was waiting for the rain to stop this time. I could see the northern end of the rain ahead. It was just there, Probably by Dwight, my next stop. I wanted to get past the rain so bad. While only a few drops hit the puddles, I had had it. I pulled on the wet gloves and hit the road, going 65 this time. Of course, while the rain was lessened, an entire string of Semis heading south made sure I was still wet to the core. Even then, I could see the line of clouds. I could see the sky brighten just after that cloud front. I entered Dwight and felt a leap of joy building. It had taken me so long to get there, and I was feeling a sense of relief that I wasn’t expecting.

I was hungry. I stopped in the McDonalds. I also picked out some feathers from my front shield, left for my earlier bird-strike. I wasn’t so much hungry as I needed caffeine. I was so tired, but I had to get home and I was so tired. It was about 8am or so at that point, and I felt that I was so close to home when in reality, I still had an hour or two left to go. I pulled off my jacket waiting for my order.  God, I was miserable.

Ok, after about 45 minutes letting the caffeine from my soda enter into my cells, I decided that with one push, I could make it home. I couldn’t put the gloves back on. My hands were still pruned and I thought the gloves would just make the cold worse. Now, it was not a good feeling for me to ride without gloves. I’ve religiously wore them during my rides. You could probably tell how desperate I was just from the action of not wearing gloves. I’d been awake longer than ever, I think, since college. I don’t function well when tired.

After several more miles going north, I entered Morris. Very familiar territory. The only thing worthy of note at this point was that I was struggling to stay awake. I noticed it first heading into Dwight, that I’d stop functioning. I was still driving and riding, but my brain had shut down. That was why I needed the caffeine. It wasn’t enough. North of Morris, I passed into that phase again. I became aware and I was in the other lane. Holy crap, get back in your lane!!! I had come to just before a car came over the slight rise. I had to do inventory. I had probably come closer to dying than most any other time. I was not going to be a statistic. I couldn’t depend on my mind to keep me alert. I had to do something else. I decided that I needed to bite my finger every once in a while. That would keep me going. I did that and I slapped the bike about every 10 seconds. I did that until I felt awake and I did it all the way home. Also, in a more deserted stretch of road, I decided to sing. I'll never win any awards, but it kept me awake.

Last time I came home this wet, I was shivering uncontrollably and the house was empty. This time Tracy was home having dealt with her own issues with the family while I was gone. I stumbled upstairs to get the wet clothes off me and a quick shower. It is amazing the stuff that comes off your body after being in water for almost 12 hours. I hit the bed and woke up about 6 hours later. I didn’t want to do this again.

But it was worth it.

To Eclipse and Back, Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Map

When I came back down the hill, I could already feel like I was overheating. The ambient air was already very hot, around 95 or so, and I had the unfortunate task of getting my jeans back on and putting on sturdy layers of clothes and a helmet and gloves. I was hoping that things would be okay at least until I could get the bike moving and get some air going around me.

One of the guys that had set up his telescope to track the eclipse invited me to view it but I declined. I really wanted to get on the road, as the traffic back would probably be bad, especially once I got around Carbondale. I kept going down the row of cars and people were packing up. I walked by a couple that had set up in the bed of their truck...and I couldn't find my bike. The truck that I had parked next to, the landmark I had set in my head, was no longer there. Great. I'm 300 miles from home amidst a sea of people and someone stole my ride. I slowly walked back along the line and still wasn't seeing it. Were the people in the bed north or south of where I parked? I started to panic a bit not knowing if I was truly screwed or I was overheating to the point where I couldn't think. Eventually, I moved to the other side of the line of cars and there it was. I had parked on the inside of the lane and my bike was clearly there, north of the bed people.

OK. Get this done. I packed up my towel and drank another water. I also ate an energy bar, knowing I didn't want to stop for a while once I got on the road. I got my jeans and marched resolutely towards the outhouse at the far end of the lot. I say this because I have a history with outhouses in Illinois. I mean, I try to avoid them in any case. The ones along the bike paths in the north of the state are fairly modern but some that the state maintains, well, it is a horror show. This one did not disappoint. I was immediately overtaken by the stench once I entered. I had to push down my gag reflex. I wished the state would talk to Utah and find out how their outhouses were built because this was a horrible experience. I made sure my feet were atop my shoes and I pulled my jeans up. I was struggling with them because the heat and perspiration made them hard get on, and with my desire to once again breathe fresh air, I soldiered on. I burst out of the torture and found relief once again enter my lungs. I walked back to the bike, already feeling the oppressive heat starting to close in on me.

I managed to get my jacket, boots, gloves, and helmet on but my time was growing short. I was not going to last long without getting some wind on me to cool me off. I backed the bike up, started it and departed my long-researched parking spot. The satisfaction I felt going back up the hill with acceleration was welcome. I made the miles to the freeway entrance with little on my mind but to cool off. I did have to stop at the Community of Christ church near the entrance to adjust something, I forget what. I don't know why a Mormon offshoot church was in the middle of nowhere, but I had made note of it that I could stop there for the eclipse as I was on my way to Tunnel Hill. It had plenty of shade. In any case, I entered I-24 going north with very few other cars on the road. I was hoping my quick exit from my parking would play in my favor and I'd miss the worst traffic.

Nope.

Two miles before the merge with I-57, the wall of traffic began. Now, I don't know if you know the joy of being in traffic on a motorcycle. It is great. You have to have the clutch gripped tight and release it slowly while you creep up 10 feet and pull it in again. Then there's the guy in the black car behind you that doesn't understand that you might want to just relax your hand for a bit. He wants you to close up that 10 feet in front of you because...well, he's just a jerk, isn't he? I crawled up in traffic and cursed the state's decision to allow trucks on the highway (they were banned in other states) because they really slow things up. It was also not lost on me that we haven't yet passed the Carbondale exit where things would get worse. Everyone went to Carbondale for this thing. They had some sort of event at the stadium there plus it was where the eclipse would last the longest. Well, when I arrived at the Carbondale exit, things got worse. Two more feeder lanes of traffic merged in. And don't for a minute think that the heat wasn't overcoming me. I was in high humidity, 95-degree weather standing on a paved highway with all black driving gear. I tried to keep a good attitude but before the next exit, I had to get off the road. I cut across the three lanes of traffic and slowly drove up on the shoulder. I had become the jerk on the motorcycle that people hated, but I had to get off the road.

I headed towards the Johnson City exit but it was backed up too. I parked in front of the semi that was also parked on the side of the exit, threw off my gear and found a water from my pack. It was warm, but I needed moisture. I was hitting a little bit of crazy and I needed to rest. After about 20 minutes, I put on my gear again to find something in this town to cool off. Luckily, there was a Stuckey's (Yeah, I didn't know they still existed.) and I pulled into the parking lot. There were already several other bikers parked there amongst others. I got my gear off, found my shoes and headed inside. I was planning to spend a few hours there as I think I came dangerously close to losing it there. I found the soda fountain, got a diet Dr. Pepper, 32oz, and went to the back of the shop to drink and sweat. That is one of the things I hate about myself. I sweat something horrible and I was drenched. I just needed to cool down. I went and refilled the soda and found something to eat as the thought of choking down another energy bar was making me nauseous. I got to the clerk, pointed to the drink, "Two of those and this." and had a prepackaged danish to nosh while I recovered in the parking lot.

I took off my boots and grabbed my shoes out of the sidepack. I was going to take some time to recover and I had no desire to try to hit the road again. I stood there, listening to the sounds of the backed up highway. Every once in a while, an ambulance would wind its way through traffic and go off on the exit. I ventured to guess that there were others like me who just couldn’t take the heat. Every crossroad and ramp had a policeman there directing traffic. There was also one of those cart type vehicle always moving around. I didn’t realize how well prepared the locals were until I saw this. It was an interesting activity to watch while my body cooled down and recovered from the heat.
About 20 minutes in, I heard one of the police at the ramp yell at a driver. “Pull it over now! Right here!” and gestured at a car in front of him. He repeated his command until the car pulled over to the left of the exit and came out of his car. The policeman waved his hand to the cart and the cart came over, took the man to the gas station where I was resting. I don’t know what indication there was but the policeman must have seen the indications of heat stroke and got the guy off the road. I didn’t see what else happened to the man once he entered the store.

Then a white SUV pulled up next to my motorcycle and a man my age and an older gentleman came out and chatted amongst themselves. After they went to the store and came out again, we shared some small talk and introductions. They were traveling up to Wisconsin and were caught up in the traffic and their car couldn’t take the heat. Like me, the took the shoulder until the exit. They mentioned that they had a U-Haul of theirs farther back in the traffic and that they were going to stay in Effingham that night. I told them good luck as it is quite a ways up the road and I had a suspicion that it was backed up all the way to Chicago, a 300 mile parking lot.

Eventually, another man parked to the other side of me with a Humvee. He was very vocal and chatty. He mentioned that he was there for the eclipse and actually went to the Ozzy Osbourne concert the previous day. He then proceeded to show us video of the concert while he chatted away about it. "Look how close he was to me!" He had pulled out of the traffic because his vehicle costs too much to run while not moving so he was going to sit there until it cleared. He brought out some foldup chairs and offered them to us. He looked at me and mentioned “Sitting on a bike that long can’t be good for you. You need to sit in a real chair for a bit.” It actually helped me feel more human and it was welcomed.

In all, I spent about 3 hours in that parking lot, shooting stories with these people put in this situation. At one part in my life, I would have been extremely uncomfortable, but now it was just being part of humanity and letting things be. At around 6:30, I felt I needed to get on the road. I had a long and painful ride ahead of me. I said my goodbye’s and mentioned. “I have a motorcycle. I’ll find a way.” I filled up the tank and headed east, away from the traffic jam that was I-57. I would take surface streets until I couldn’t, which looked around Effingham. There were parts of Illinois where it was hard to travel in a straight line, and it looked like there wasn’t a nice back-road from Effingham to Champaign. Until then, head to US-45 and go north.

There was some satisfaction finally being on the road again and moving at speed. Backroads were all clear, so much different than the interstate. Still, I had to stop every once in a while to look at the map on the phone. Unfortunately, 45 took a swing east and I was trying to get to it while going north at the same time as drifting east. There were obstacles, evidently, as there were no roads straight north. I came to a town called McCleansboro and had a short moment of frustration. I thought by then I would hit 45 and I was still miles off. I noticed that 242 went north and if I took that, I could eventually meet up with it to the north. So I took it. The mileage did nothing but make me more frustrated. I wanted to get on a main road eventually. I was doing nothing but feeling farther and farther from my goal. Yeah, it was kind of stupid to get upset, but it was getting dark and I realized I still had so many hours to drive. Finally, FINALLY, I met up with 45 and felt that I was going making some headway. Traffic was a little more present than the back roads. I was part of a group of 5 cars and I was the motorcycle at the tail end. At least it would keep me from speeding.

I was doing fine, thinking that I was making some headway. It was around 8:30 or 9:00pm and I came to a cross-road. US-50. I remember taking 50 in Utah when I lived there so there was some joy there, but what set me off was a sign that said, "<-- Salem".  Salem! I’ve only traveled as far north as Salem?! I’ve been going 70mph north and…Salem!? It was compounded by coming into a town and what I thought was the expressway. Good night! It’s Salem! That anger was short lived as I found out I was actually in a town called Flora. OK. I’m hungry and thirsty. I stopped in at McDonald's. I’m sure that it wasn’t normally this busy at this time on a Monday night. When I stepped into the place, I made a call to Tracy. She seemed to have her hands full with something there, but I told her “I’m in some town called Flora, Fiona, something like that.” That earned an annoyed look from the clerk. I meant no disrespect. I’m sure their town is lovely. I just didn’t know the right name of it. (I have a thing with names ever since my mission.) I did the unusual thing and ordered a Big Mac Meal. It was my only real splurge of the trip. While I sat at a dirty table, assuming that it was so busy that no sitting area cleaning could be done, a bus full of teenagers came in. OK. Eat. Get out of here. I should be in Effingham soon.

Aside from a quick duck into a shops driveway and almost getting stuck in some soft dirt, the trip was uneventful. Had the road mostly to myself….Until 37 merged with 45. 37 paralleled the expressway all the way up, and traffic came to a halt, or a slow halt. I start and stopped all the way through the twists and turns of the city of Effingham. I knew eventually I’d end up back on the highway so I have to see how much it eased up if it did. When I did find I57 again, the traffic was moving. Maybe 50MPH, but it was moving. I hopefully entered the ramp and was delighted to see traffic moving. Until it didn’t. Oh, good Lord, I’m in the same mess I was. This was a 300-mile parking lot! I traveled a few more miles until the next rest area. I pulled over when I found a spot. Not easy as the entire place was packed. I called Tracy almost desperate. I wanted to get home sometime, and at some point, I needed to get off this thing, find a way north off this road. After I hung up with her, I decided I didn’t really need to go to the bathroom, so I headed back on the road, vowing to take the next exit.

But after about a mile, the traffic broke up and I was traveling 70MPH again. Thankfully, I stopped my complaining and settled in for the ride to Champaign. Traffic was on and off for some time. At Matoon, I needed to close my eyes for a moment and get some gas. I tried getting some shuteye in the parking lot of US Soy in Matoon, but the side road was annoyingly busy, and I was afraid some cop would stop and arrest me for being cagey. So instead, I went to the bathroom and got gas at the BP station and hit the road again. It was past 10, maybe 11 so I tried not to call Tracy. She didn’t need to worry about me.

To be continued...