Issue #266 The Road's The Thing
At this time of year we are often on the road. In this issue John Skipp, our art director, takes on Route 66 while I disappear into the backwoods of the northeastern US and the Maritimes. Opposite sides of the continent but similar in their appeal. John’s choice of destination and his trip had been on the books for at least two years. He considered Route 66 a once in a lifetime trip and he now has the tattoo to prove it. Considering the places that he has traveled in his lifetime I was surprised to hear this. Petra, the tomb located in Jordan but made famous in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. He’s been there.
Africa. He’s done that. Food poisoning far from medical help. He’s had it.
So I thought Route 66 was kind of tame—despite his encounters with rattlesnakes. His choice though defines the connection between motorcyclists and roads. Route 66. The Dempster Highway. The Tail of the Dragon. The Cabot Trail. They are all roads and not individual destinations. And to know each is a collective experience gathered from miles ridden and people met along the way. “Standin’ on a corner in Winslow, Arizona” is as much part of the experience of Route 66 as the roadside kitsch of a tepee motel, and the experience isn’t whole until you have seen both.
As John and I experienced, even though the roads we were on were often lightly traveled, those that were also traveling were riders. On my trip only once do I recall having to get past a giant RV. While once ubiquitous on the road, this year they seemed to have disappeared. But motorcyclists are still riding and traveling no matter what the economy may be doing to the vacation plans of many others. The tourism industry may not be saved by motorcyclists but it is definitely better off with all of us still on the road. It is the urge to be on the road that makes many people ride a motorcycle. John has done Route 66. But where is the call of the road going to take him next?
My route was a little less formal: just keep heading east, I said to myself.If I did that eventually I had little choice but to land on Cape Breton. I followed no set route or particular highway, yet wherever I was, there too, invariably, was another rider on the road. Occasionally It seemed a little odd to wave to another rider on some tiny grey line through the backwoods of Maine. What’s he doing out here? It’s the middle of nowhere! But perhaps he was just taking any road that led him west knowing that eventually he would encounter the Pacific, be it at Tofino, Cape Flattery or Tillamook Head. If you are traveling alone as I was for many of the miles, it is the freedom you have. Get yourself lost if you want. Turn where you want. There is nobody to confer with. Ignore that prompt on your GPS if you have one. The electronic voice doesn’t know you are on a motorcycle and wants to get you to a destination as efficiently as possible (in theory). Doing it efficiently and doing it enjoyably may be two very different rides.
