July 27, 2015
I’ve been planning this trip for a year. Really planning. I’ve been thinking about it for most of my life, but for the past year I’ve been taking notes, researching places, prices, shipping, etc.
Leaving came quickly. I was surprised actually at how, even though I had been moving everything into storage, the morning of departure suddenly came rushing at me.
The bike was prepped. I was ready. Or so I thought. I wasn’t prepared for how hard it would be to say goodbye to loved ones, friends, co-workers. It was suddenly very real. I had quit my job, sold most everything I owned, and now it was here: time to actually do what I had told everyone I was going to do.
There was no fanfare. Nobody came to see me off on Monday morning. I got up from the floor of my apartment, where I had been sleeping on my camp mat and sleeping bag for the last few days, packed away the last few things, put on my gear, got on the bike, and rode away. Quietly. Sadly. It’s a feeling I can’t describe.
And the 100 degree heat didn’t help. Neither did the brutal headwind. My little 250 was struggling. Yes, it was hot, and I rode just under 300 miles Monday from San Marcos, Texas to McAllen, on the Mexican border. I knew that I just had to ride Monday and Tuesday and once into Mexico it would get cooler. For those of you who think it just gets hotter as you go south into Mexico, there are actually some large mountains in Mexico. And that’s exactly where I was headed.
Spent Monday night in Mission, Texas in a Motel 6. I remember as a kid that they were called Motel 6 because they were six dollars a night. So how come they aren’t called Motel 60 now? Hoping I don’t pay anywhere near that for a night’s stay for a long time to come.