Day 01
June 19
As it always is when some big event is coming, it seems like it will never get here. But then all of a sudden it's upon you and you are second guessing yourself as to if you are properly prepared. But today is the day, ready or not. David Whitley of Scotland, who I have probably ridden more miles with than most any other human on the planet, has got the days, the routes, connections, and places to stay all sorted out and all I have to do is get there. In my recent trips, I have really been honing down what I need to take and what I can leave behind. I manage to get my belongings (including a customized seat for the ST1300) in my old yellow river bag, green canvas bag and a helmet bag. I've carefully segregated my stuff so that anything with 'wires' - like heated gear, tool kit, etc., is in the green bag which unzips easily. That way the river bag, which is a little tougher to open, should sail right through. My helmet and Autocom radio gear I'm carrying on in the helmet bag so I should be set. Sharyn and I leave the house early to make a breakfast run to IHOP for eggs and pancakes. We just had our 33rd wedding anniversary six days earlier and I will be gone on her birthday, July 4th. She's a special lady who understands me and my riding dreams and for that I am thankful. After breakfast, we swing by the office where both of us work to see if there are any last minute questions or problems. The decks are clear and since the local airport website says to be there at least 2 hours early for international flights, we head on out. She drops me off and I am on my way and she's back to work. I watch my two checked bags to make sure they get through the screening then head for my departure gate. And as usual, I sail right through security and get to the gate in about 20 minutes. I guess there are a lot of things worse than being early for your flight.
This time I have booked my Continental flight to fly through Cleveland instead of Houston which should make for a shorter one. When I board in Nashville, I have the front seat which has no under the seat storage but lots of leg room. The flight attendant offers to stow my bag in her gear closet and I thank her very much. I really don't like the idea of checking my helmet to get banged around in the luggage bay. The flight is pretty routine and short and I have planned for a long layover in Cleveland. That way my bags should have plenty of time to get to my flight to London Gatwick. With time to kill, I find a Max & Ermas on the concourse and check it out.
I've got about 3 hours to kill, so it's nice to have a very leisurely lunch. I can't help but notice at the next table sits an elderly couple. I can tell by their clothes and softened conversation that they are probably living on the economic edge of things. The distress is apparent in their faces and I can only imagine what event brings them here. I pray that the Lord will ease their discomfort and give them the help that they need. Soon Michelle, my server, comes over and I get a bacon cheese burger and fries in the works. I figure that should be enough cholesterol to get it up where I can measure it. It comes out and is actually quite good - just not as big as the picture. Once I polish it off, I head for the gate. It's good to have a little time on my hands, so I call my friends Don and Joyce out in California to see how they are doing. We talk about my latest adventure and they wish me well. The sitting area is pretty crowded, so when an older fellow a little scruffy dressed for some folks walks up, I offer him the seat beside me. We strike up a conversation and as it turns out he is flying to London to do a gig with George Clinton and the Funkadelics. He's a professional guitarist that is self-taught and is struggling with the whole music scene. Having been involved a bit in it myself, I understand where his head is at. Playing the same tunes over and over night after night you almost go into autopilot and question where is the fun that used to be there. Sometime the audience is there, and sometime you might as well be playing elevator music. The only advice I can offer is simple -
"Just follow your heart. Life is far too short to be doing something that you don't enjoy."
Soon the 757 that will be my flying carpet to adventure pulls into the gate. The 757 is one of the smaller transatlantic birds in operation, but it's not a bad bird to fly on. I tried to get emergency row exit seating for the extra leg room, so I guess I'll see how I did once I board.
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