Blogging From The Desert

Blogging from the Desert
By Cameron Weckerley


The following is a series of short blog entries posted over the course of two day chronicling a motorcycle adventure gone awry.
Introduction
For a long time I have wanted to take a long, solo motorcycle ride. There is something elemental and necessary to a mans soul in that. To get away from all that is super-imposed on our self images by the media, by the job, by society, and yes, even our wives. To get out there and be alone and self-reliant and get reconnected with who we really are and with the true nature of the life force within in us. Some would call it God, some The Tao, or Chi. It makes little difference really what it is called, as long as we can connect with some form of it and with our masculinity. Otherwise we have nothing to bring to the table in the other areas of our lives . OK, I can hear you getting ready to change the channel because I am sounding a little too much like Dr. Phil or Oprah. End of philosophy, here is a true story.
Blog entry...beginning of day 1
I asked for it! I found myself with a week off from my REAL job...ha! And called a magazine I know asking for a freelance assignment. Sure, they said, we have 2 but you have to go to New Mexico....

Ever eager to please I said OK... Now it use do be that I identified with the character in Neil Peart's book "Ghost Rider" and would often ride aimlessly for 800 miles or so thinking myself the Noble Man Alone. That was during my divorce. Since then my new and wonderful wife has been my faithful companion on the back seat of the Beemer logging 10s of thousands of miles with me.

Today I go long and I go far....alone. Good preparation for the Mexico trip in Oct. But as I write this the Black Beast is warming up and I am filled with loneliness and trepidation.

My intention is to report in from the road for the next 4 days or so. Hopefully I will have some good stories and pictures to share.

If only I knew what was about to happen!

Next blog entry 14 hours later

Well my friends here is how the story goes. After posting this morning made a huge navigational error and went about 40 miles out of the way. That should have been my first clue. Oh, you know those little pointers on the GPS mean something...duh. Having breakfast in Barstow, notice their is some liquid substance that has been thrown all over the right pannier bag. OIL....The source of the problem, worn our valve cover seal. Should have been my second clue...but hey no problem. They don't call that thing attached to my house Beemerman's Ghetto Garage for nothing. I am prepared! Silicone patch stops most of the bleeding just need to keep on eye on the oil level now.

Once on the 15 the weather turns lovely and as it is still early in the morning I avoid the 40 and go bopping down the Bagdad Café1 still there old 66.
...looking in worse shape than ever though. Has anyone in the U. S seen that move besides me? IMHO....Worst MOVIE EVER! Fortunately while passing through Amboy I notice some activity at the one famous Roy's which had been defunct. A good sign as it turns our very providential.

So I stay on the Old 66 as much as possible, almost to needles and get blindsided by gravel in the curve. Damn....thank God for crash guards and armored clothes. In the milieu that followed however I somehow lost my wallet! So far I had been pretty stoic about the whole thing. No more.

Empty tank, seven bucks in my wallet and no ID or credit card. I decided that my wallet must have fallen out while having fun on the 66 so I spend my 7 bucks on gas and go looking for it. I'm just about on fumes when I reach Roy's. Remember Roy's/?

As it turns out the place has been taken over by a kindly, aging, pony tailed hippy that drives around in an orange gulf cart with a spoiler on the top. He asks me if I need something, and I tell him yeah I need some gas but have no money. So he turned me on to enough to get to the next town...


To be continued.....

A bit later

Just to finish up. Between my wife and me we convince this gas station manager to let me fill up the bike on her credit card via remote control...and I put the last of the synth oil I was carrying in the motor. Made to back to .Barstow and because I had injured my back in the crash and picking up and 800 pound bike I had to stop.

Now convincing this little Indian man (no racial slur intended, just a physical description) to let me stay the night was a whole nother adventure in itself. But Here I am in Barstow. Trying to figure out what to do next. Do I figure out a way to ride on or run home? The magazine editor said I didn't have to do it, because I seemed "snake-bit" That sounds like a challenge to me.
I tired to explain to my wife that did Glenn Heggstad. Of "Two Wheels through Terror" quit. NO!
Did Dave Barr or "Riding the Edge" quit, No! Did Neil Peart of "Ghostrider" quit, NO!

She didn't get it...

What do you think guys...it's a matter of honor now....do you agree?
And with that I took a couple of the narcotic pain pills I carry for emergencies and fell into a restless, drug induced half=sleep.

Day 2 Blog Entry 1


Good Morning Friends...

After have slept on it I have decided to carry on with this ride and this assignment.

My long suffering wife is currently on her way up from Bakersfield to replenish my funds and oil supply. Have re-sealed the gaskets hoping they will hold up until I Can get to a BMW dealer.

As they say in AA, everything happens for a reason. I was doing a lot of praying yesterday for "Just a little help" And I got it in the form of the ponytail Good Samaritan and the understanding. but also bizarre individual that works here. This was not my plan, but again as the say in AA,"if you want to make God laugh tell him your plan..ye ha.


Day 2 Final Blog Entry

Not giving up...just postponing.

In Glenn Heggstad's book, "Two Wheels Through Terror," Heggstad is on a "'round the world ride and while traveling through South America is taken hostage by the ELN and tortured for six weeks. His release was finally negotiated by the Red Cross and the thousands of people who were following his online journals all expected him to come home. He did exactly the opposite thing. His support team back home air freighted him a new bike and he carried on with the ride. Hundreds of e-mails flooded into Heggstad's website following this event from people whom he inspired.

I was hoping to carry on this tradition today, but the bike was leaking too badly, the front brakes were failing and my wife, who does not say these things lightly, told me I looked like I did not have the stamina for it.

So for those of you who have been following this journey for two whole days I apologize, but I plan a second attempt next week.

Yet there are some lessons to be learned here. I think the most important one has to do with the experiential connectedness we bring to a piece of art, like a book.

I have read every motorcycle travel narrative I have been able to lay hands on but, while always reading them with great interest, have maintained a sort of detachment from the reality of the story. "Gee, that must have been scary," my mind half-heartedly says to itself at some hair-raising episode.

But yesterday I got to experience in a small way what some of those other writer must have felt. To be on a damaged, leaky bike with almost no fuel and no money alone on a high desert back road with darkness falling. There is REAL fear in that.

The other lesson is...don't carry a duct tape wallet...they are slippery.

Beemerman out...


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} The film was shot at what was then the Sidewinder Cafe in Newberry Springs, California. Since then, the cafe has become something of a tourist destination, and has changed its name to the Bagdad Cafe. A small notice board on the cafe wall features snapshots of the film's cast and crew. The actual cafe is almost identical to the one in the film, although there is no hotel out back and the water tower was specially built for the film ---Wikipedia