The bike is nearly complete. With the kickstart installed and functional, I feel I have the worst over. Yesterday my boyfriend and I installed the shiny silver Moose Racing handguards and rewired the rear signal lights to reach all the way to their new mounting on the license plate (had to for the pannier frames). Panniers are still in the works. At every step of the process I tried to create my own system that wouldn't cost $600. First I bought the Happy Trails pannier frames and two 20-ml ammo cans to mount on them. But I realized mounting them would be complicated, so I bought the Happy Trails mounting kit. Then I tried using the kit to mount the ammo cans, and because of the diagonal strip of metal on each side of the pannier, I couldn't get the mounting kit to work. I maybe could have figured something out with longer bolts and some spacers, but I had reached my limit. I have a good paying job, so I sucked up the cost and ordered the Happy Trails Teton panniers to mount. The company was really nice and gave me the package deal even though I'd bought the frames and mounting kit separately. Go Happy Trails :-)
Left on the list of things to do to the motocicleta:
- Create and mount a larger tool tube (should it be lockable?)
- Receive and mount panniers (could be awhile on that one)
- Mount my new tires
- Find a tank bag
- Buy new battery (6-yr old one is shot)
- Reregister bike before I leave
- Complete tool kit and spares
And then there's the other list of things to do before I go, personal stuff and personal gear; much more extensive. But I have just 24 work days remaining, and then a flexible departure date, so I'm not super worried. I feel like I could leave at the end of the week and I'd be fine with what I currently have (although, panniers would be nice to have).
Andrew is being super supportive of the whole thing, even helping me with the bike and with moving my stuff. I don't know if I'm appreciative or hurt by his helping. Actually, I know that I'm appreciative and grateful. The part of me that wants to feel hurt is the part of my that wants...things I can't have and shouldn't ask for.
My mom hasn't brought the trip up at all, even while I was home for Christmas. We're getting along mostly fine. And my dad, per usual, won't mention the trip ever. But that's fine--at least he's not cutting off all communications like he did when I went to Africa! I'm fine with not bringing up the topic of my trip. In all honesty, I wonder sometime why I'm doing it. I have a wonderful life, surrounded by awesome people in a beautiful place. Maybe I should just quit my job, then be a ski bum for the rest of winter, then spend all summer climbing and backpacking and climbing fourteeners. That sounds incredible.
But then I close my eyes and envision open highway, new terrain and sights, and all the people I haven't yet met. And I think about the sense of purpose I have whenever I'm moving, and the feeling of accomplishment at the close of every day on the road. I remember the way my heart sings when I travel; it's almost nonstop, like the soundtrack to a Hollywood movie. The energy and the excitement and relaxation and the smells and tastes and sounds of the rest of the world. The independence of choosing my own days and my own patterns. It all the sets my blood to humming in my veins. And I miss it. It's been too long. If I wait much longer, I'm afraid I'll forget, and maybe I'll forget that ever wanted to do it in the first place.
I'm so excited. Every so often, the excitement washes over me and I feel myself glowing and shining with it. Of course, the excitement comes hand-in-hand with the stomach-plummeting realization of exactly what I'm about to do, and thoughts about the life I'm about to abandon entirely. But it's part of the package, and I don't fear those moments.
Five weeks until I quit, followed by a visit home, then a couple weeks in Albuquerque with Andrew before I head out. Then...open road.
Open road, open heart, open mind.
