Operation Enough Already About My Ride (after this one for sure.)

Origin of "The Dream Ride"

In January of 1988, with ten inches of snow on the ground, Martha and Jerry Wagley were having dinner with us. All of us were in our late 40's, and the conversation got around to things we had not done that we still wanted to do, achieve, or accomplish before cashing in our chips. Between us, there were some very honest, open, and vulnerable answers. One of my answers: Well, it’s not on the top of my list but one thing I still want to do is ride cross-country on a motorcycle. Jerry replied, When do you want to go? That is when the dream began again.

Along with Jerry as my riding buddy-- "Don't call me Bud"-- we’ve ridden the mountain states, Nova Scotia, Key West, Pensacola, Hilton Head, the entire length of The Natchez Trace Parkway, and numerous other rides of 250 miles or so. Then beginning April 9, we did the B.A.R– 6514 miles, as all of you have heard repeatedly!

Enhancing a dream that began in the summer of 1955 when I was 13 years old, and reignited in the winter of 1988 with a foot of snow on the ground, the dream has now officially become a reality. The slogan for our big ride of 2011 fit me to a T. Four Wheels Move the Body, Two Wheels Move the Soul.
So, here's a summation of the trip. It was for sure, the Ride of a Lifetime, with a 1000 awesome sights, some beautiful, some inspirational, some unbelievable, and some scary. Southern Utah blew us both away. Except for the mountain ride above the Pacific, Southern Utah was by far the most spectacular inland sights of all. I made several pictures in The Arches National Park at Moab, but after looking at them, they just did not and could not capture the vastness of an area that is 300 million years old. I'll try sending a few along so you can at least "get the picture."

Now, the other part. There were several days that we absolutely terrible, frightening, and for sure majorly challenging. We miscalculated the weather. Those folks in Eastern OR, ID, UT, and CO were still having winter- snow, rain, and cross-winds of 30-40 mph. At one point, we actually talked about renting a U-Haul truck and driving to Albuquerque but checking the forecast, they were having the same weather there, too. So, we just headed South as fast we could to get ahead of a snow storm that was just a few hours behind us. There were three places that set a low temperture reading for that day in April.

Yet, here's the "deep thoughts" part of this diatribe. There never was a day that we did not experience something really spectacular which verifies the maxim, Not everyday is a good day, but there's something good in everyday. Another verification of an old insight-- the parts of any trip that sometimes are the most memorable and most fun to tell, are those when things were not going well. As long as you keep the good and the bad in the right perspective, life is good, the USA is awesome, so please don't let me die until I'm dead. Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in one pretty and well preserved piece, but to skid across the line broadside, thoroughly used up, worn out, leaking oil, shouting GERONIMO!

Now, let me tell you about Jerry Wagley. In the fall of 1959-- somewhere I guess around say, August 15, with fear and trembling, I walked through the "Fraternity Rush Line" of Kappa Alpha Order at what was then MSU-- Memphis State U. Whereupon I shook hands with a guy named Jerry Wagley. From the get-go, we became fast friends-- fraternity brothers, room mates, sworn into the navy at the same time, and became naval officers within four months of each other. We don't shake hands anymore-- haven't for years-- we hug. So, come August, we will have been friends for 52 years! This again, is a life lesson about the mystery of life, which I love and celebrate, the unexplainable laws of coincidence, and the mind-boggling laws of probability-- better stated the laws of IM-probability.

Here's the funny part-- no two men could be any different than the two of us. Jerry is as quiet as I am loud, as calm as I am animated. He's totally organized, I'm very disorganized. He can return to a town and street that he visited 25 years ago without looking at a map, I could get lost in a round room with one door. He always operates between the borders (speed limits and such) I cross the border every chance I get. He's only had one speeding ticket in his life and I've filled up a shoe box. I've never seen him rattled-- he saw me have more than one "come apart" on this trip. In all these years, we've never had a real conflict-- except the time I put a disected cat from biology lab in our apartment sink.

Even on bike trips, none of his clothing is ever out of place, wrinkled, or shabby-- mine? Well, you get the picture. I tell numerous stories (and some of you are saying "what?") Jerry listens to my stories and the ones that are repeated over and over and never tells me "I've heard that one four times". We do have a hand signal he can flash to say "heard it." I'm sure I told 100 stories and that was before we got through Texas. When the four of us are together, he is the odd man out because both of our wives are talkers and story tellers, too, and he is the quiet one. But on our bike trips, he has to talk more because I get exhausted talking and need a breather. (Martha Wagley, you would be shocked!)

I could go on and on about the differences in our personalities but the question is how can two men who are so different be such great friends for 52 years? One word is at the top-- respect, loyalty, trust, and love-- I know that's more than one word but I'm verbose, too. And we have nearly the same life-view, values, political persuasion, and mostly religious views-- and that's pretty rare in Memphis, TN!

On this ride, Jerry was the pilot and navigator which with my ailments-- asthma, allergies, and arthritis-- the big three-- all I had to do was follow him at the exact speed limit, of course, and just enjoy the journey, which I did. I started out calling him Captain and me The Tailgunner, but since we never had any hostile fire from the rear, I was really more of the Caboose. I had several difficult health problems on this trip and I know he was very concerned about getting me back to the Bluff City in one piece. And he did.

Jerry Wagley is a good man, a good husband, a good father, a good grandfather, and my very good friend.

And that's it for sending emails about the trip... which you probably doubt.

dd