Saturday, August 1, 2009
Day Twelve--Pioneertown, CA to HOME in The OC
We weren’t ready for it to end, but until a bucket of money drops onto our heads, I reckon all vacations must have a last day. So we headed out of beautiful Pioneertown toward home. From Pioneertown to the I-10, life was good.
Then it went downhill.
The closer we got to LA, the worse it got. Bad roads, horrible traffic, the smog… wow. You forget about the smog when you’re living in it. When you come back, the thick layer hanging over the basin becomes that much more obvious and disgusting.
But I refuse to end this trip on a negative, so I'll point out the positives.
Ummm… let's see... something good, something good… Oh! The weather got cooler the closer we got to home.
We reunited with The World’s Worst Cat, Zoe. She missed us and loves us. I can tell.
I would say it was nice to sleep in our own bed, but we seriously need a new mattress. The hotel beds were much more comfortable.
Overall, we went 2400 miles, saw six states (… kind of. New Mexico we didn’t actually ride through, but I did put my hand in it at Four Corners.) The terrain changes throughout each day amazed me, how within the course of a couple of hours, things could shift from mountains and pines, to dry flat desert. The rock formations through Utah were astounding. The beauty of Colorado with its rivers and trees, overwhelming. Best of all, I’m glad to see there are still small towns that haven’t been overrun with strip malls, chain restaurants, and Wal-Marts. We met the nicest people along the way. Not a bad day in the bunch. It truly was the perfect trip.
Next year, we’ll ride to Nashville. I can’t wait.
For a final portrait of the two of us, I set the camera on self-timer in front of our Pioneertown room. You’ve gotta love self-timers. Here are a couple of the initial attempts trying to get the timing right.
Finally, we got a nice one.
Forgive me, I’m going to wax poetic for a bit. We’re back home now, and I’m feeling a bit sad. There’s something incredibly invigorating about being on a motorcycle for so many consecutive days. As my feller put it, “Somehow it feels important…” although we both know it’s not. All the clichés are true. The feeling of freedom. The wind in your face. The independence of being just you, the machine, and the road. It’s the kind of vacation where you get in touch with yourself and what you want out of life.
Thanks so much to everyone following our blogs. Sharing the experience with friends made it even more fun, and forced us to sit down at the end of the day and chronicle our experiences. Already, I’m having fun re-reading the adventure.
So until next year...