Everything Happens For A Reason

I think this trip has really made me a believer of everything happens for a reason and that, what’s meant to be will be. Of course you can’t just sit around thinking things will fall on your lap or this trip would never have happened; but sometimes the plans we have are interrupted and changed and it may seem like a bad thing when it’s really for the better. I consider myself an optimistic person, or better yet a realistic optimist if that’s even a thing. I try to stay positive and see the good when things are looking grim. This helps me keep a clear head, which in turn allows me to make better decisions, and also keep good energy. I’m a firm believer that good energy and positive vibes will attract good things. These were some of the thoughts that rolled through my head as I drove those nine hundred and some odd miles, by myself, from Memphis, Tennessee to Berkeley Heights, New Jersey.

It was a late start after having pulled out bikes, re-organized stuff and still grabbing breakfast. It was like we were trying to delay the inevitable and spend more time together; like somehow that would magically change things and my bike would get fixed. As Marco and Gomes suited up for the rain they were going to face, I hung around a few more minutes just wishing it wasn’t real and that I was going to hop on my bike and continue with them. A part of me was happy to go home, back to comfort. We had spoken about how Marco and I felt a little home sick, on our way out of LA when we were headed for the Grand Canyon. But at the same time I would be lying if I said I wasn’t sad that I wouldn’t be next to my friends anymore and experiencing the rest of this trip alongside them and being a part of this truly wonderful story that we have created for ourselves.

  

They got done suiting up and we could no longer delay this departure. We hugged it out and I wished them a safe rest of their travels. Certainly we would still keep in touch but it’s just not the same. It’s like receiving a postcard with a story, it’s nice and all but you don’t get the real experience. They took off and I got in the 3 passenger cabin of a U-Haul that until this morning had been frequented by the three of us. To me, it had actually been some of the best times we had. When we were on the road, on our motorcycles, we couldn’t really communicate with each other so the little talking that happened between us would be, during stops to quickly discuss either something we had seen on the road or what our next set of miles had in store for us or, at the end of the day when we’d reach our destination and had to get content together. From Tucumcari, NM to Memphis, TN we had some good conversation, and some great laughs, especially due to the fact that we were on a motorcycle trip yet we had 3 bikes in the back of a U-Haul driving across a few states. No matter how many times I said it or typed it in a text message to someone, the fact that I was bringing my bike back home in a U-Haul did not stop making me laugh.

As I set out across Tennessee it never crossed my mind that I’d be bored for the 15 hours of driving by myself. I actually enjoy driving very much and back home my car is like my sanctuary, a second home, an office on the road. I could drive for hours and be entertained. I put on some music and was glad that I could now play anything that was on my iPhone because I knew I would enjoy it. I busied myself with music, running over lines for a monologue I’m working on now and most importantly reflecting on this trip and getting lost in my thoughts. I began to think that maybe this was the way I was meant to go home, in a U-Haul driving by myself so that I could process the overload of content my mind had received over the past three weeks. Maybe this breakdown was meant to be so that I could go through what I was experiencing. It would also free Marco and Gomes from the time constraint I imposed on the trip as they could now take a week longer than we had expected.

I drove past Nashville and saw the beautiful greenery that surrounded highway 40 and what went through my mind was ‘Wow, I can’t wait to tell the guys how beautiful it is so we can take a motorcycle ride over here.’ Tennessee actually seemed to never end and only after passing Knoxville did I grasp the fact that, after all I was driving all the way from the opposite border of this very long state. I still had Virginia to cross, from its southern border to its northern border, and I just wanted to get home at this point. Darkness hit as I left Tennessee so I stopped at a rest area in Virginia to get a two hour nap in, then drove for about another two hours before stopping at a second rest area for another two hour nap. I was sure that would hold me off until I got home. By this time it was about 6:00am and the sun was making its presence known; although not with its heat as the whole trip consisted of on and off rain and cloudy skies from the moment I left Memphis to the time I reached New Jersey. I actually pleaded with mother nature to give me a break after going through what I just had gone through and bless me with some sunny skies and beautiful weather. My pleas went unheard.

At my next stop to refuel the truck I was feeling the effects of having gotten used to morning breakfasts. What a surprise, there happened to be a Denny’s next door. This routine was all too familiar. Damn you Gomes for getting me hooked on some Denny’s pancakes during this trip. They’re delicious. I ate my meal and headed out as quickly as I could. My main focus was putting in the miles to get home.

A smile came across my face as I hit the New Jersey border on Interstate 78, a road all too familiar. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel now, the last stretch. I pulled off at my exit and about four or five blocks from my house I suddenly felt really sad. It was as if I had drove past this invisible wall of sadness that as soon as you cross it just puts a frown on your face. I think what happened was it really dawned on me, at that moment, that this journey had come to a close for me. It was over. I pulled into my driveway with my head down, not because it was over, but because I didn’t make it back on my motorcycle. I had let myself down, I hadn’t ended this adventure the way I started it.

I unloaded the truck and settled in at home. It felt weird to be home, to be back at my desk and in front of my computer, to have fast internet and the other comforts at home we may take for granted. For the last three weeks we had lived without any of that, scouring for whatever crappy WiFi we could find among other things, like rats in a sewer looking for food, so that we could update our blog and post our photos. My head was down but my spirits were up, after all, there’s not too many people that do what the three of us had accomplished, especially people our age. For many it doesn’t go past a dream, but we made it our reality.