Category: P.E.A.C.E 08

The conundrum, thus far unanswered, is how to create the Peace sign, with pieces of the route rerouting me in such a way that creating Peace is impossible.

To continue the outer circle, I need to make this type of line.

That is the highway route. A highway that more than 5 people have asked me not to take. The non-interstate options yield this route, which cuts into the route I did last year, which would ruin the Peace symbol:

Early today, it seemed like a feasible idea to enter Mexico and head West. There is Highway 2 which runs right along the border. Although, I can’t find any info on it. The Mexico/U.S. Embassy website currently warns that travel in Mexico is dangerous due to narcotic trafficking violence. Apparently, I would need temporary insurance to drive in Mexico. This could be bought though. Then I would have to exchange money for pesos and drive off into what sounds like bandit country. I have conflicting thoughts about this.

1) Although this is meant to put Peace on the U.S. map, the new North America theme would still be fine. Our fates our all intertwined.
2) The Peace ride should be taken to places where there is suffering and violence, including them as a reminder that here, in and around our country, we face immediate problems.
3) That the Peace ride is pointless if I take a risk that could compromise my safety.

Now, for the ultimate irony in this conundrum:
That large grey area you see in the photo, the part blocking me from easy, direct passage, is the Barry Goldwater Air Force Range. Yes. They are testing missiles there.

This Southwest section of the Peace sign has been challenging. Extreme heat and winds. Border tensions. Insane speeds. Lack of fuel.

It has also been extremely rewarding. Incredible panoramic views. Interesting, genuine conversations with strangers. Sense of accomplishment with every hour. Deep meditations.

And to my surprise, an unexpected caravan of scooterists meeting me in Bisbee, to bring me into Tucson. That meant a 250 mile roundtrip for them. This was an extremely moving gesture. No riders have gone this distance and it absolutely made my day. 4 riders would complete the round trip-one scoot blew up, the other choked from fuel overfill.

I told each one of them that when I imagined this ride, it was to create community-and so it was significant to me that they came out in support P.E.A.C.E SCOOT. It was a pleasure to ride with all of them, they were very skilled. We dealt with many jerks and had some tense situations with cars cutting into our pack, narrowly avoiding some of the riders.

Mike and his wife run Scoot Over in Tucson. Every person who works there is top notch, I can’t say enough nice things about them. My scooter is in excellent shape now thanks to their mechanic Ron. The generosity of everyone here is astounding. I’m thankful for the generosity and well wishing coming in from everywhere. I feel an immense relief when offered this support.

I am house sitting for the family tonight; feeding the lizards, gerbil and Petey-the 2nd coolest dog ever. Mine being the first. I miss my home, my dog and my partner-I hope we stay strong through this distance. I have little time at the end of the day and sometimes I feel like a jerk for leaving to do this ride. It is nice to have this shelter right now, complete with an espresso machine and wonderful people.

A highlight of my day was visiting with Philip McCalebs brother, John. I had lunch with him and his wife Judy. Although Genuine is my main sponsor, I have yet to meet Philip. My decision to write only one letter for scooter sponsorship has turned out to be the best hunch ever. John and Judy are very kind and entertaining. We talked and ate lunch outside on their patio. It was an enjoyable two hours, never an awkward moment.

Their home is up in the foothills and overlooks the city. Around here the skyline is interrupted by large cacti extending long fingers upward and out. I have never seen anything like this.

Right before leaving, John told me he had been instructed by Philip to take me to buy an ipod! Yes, an iPod. I suppose Philip noticed my complaining these past few days. Mine broke the day I set out and I’ve somehow survived almost 4,000 miles, but have recently begun to crack without one.

Mike and his wife also gave me a gift today-a mesh riding jacket. I first refused, saying it felt selfish to accept it, because my hope is to raise money for others. They told me that I have to take care of myself in order to make this ride, and that I would need a mesh jacket in the conditions ahead. Thank you, thank you all who have made this first 24 hours in Tucson very amazing.

Tomorrow I have plans to attend a Peace meditation ceremony and then to ride motocross bikes with Ron. He’s a motocross competitor, but me-I’m riding on the slow track to get the hang of it.

I should have a definite route planned out West by tomorrow. Shaun has expressed an interest in riding with me to San Fransisco. He is a new rider, but very willing to take the adventure. I believe he is ready for what lies ahead, I’ve been completely honest about it. It is going to be so cool to have company for those 1,500 miles. I’m very excited to welcome a new rider to P.E.A.C.E SCOOTER! He has agreed to blog about his experience on this blog, so stay tuned for that!

I woke up in a rather nice hotel and went over to the lobby for breakfast. Having been offered a military discount, the place was affordable. Yes, there is some irony in this situation.

There were many perks. They grilled up a bunch of food for us for dinner, offered beverages and chips. Breakfast was a nice assortment of good coffee, eggs, oatmeal, fresh fruit and hashbrowns. I tucked aside some extra packets of oatmeal and grabbed some bananas. The charley horses have begun to set in again-this happens with long riding.

At the end of today’s ride I will have gone 1,000 miles in 4 days. This is more than I usually do, but more of a feat with the speeds I’ve been driving. The severe wind out here and high elevation has compromised my speed-50 is about all I can do.

Eating my breakfast yesterday, with the many service men/women, I realized there is a whole industry based on us not having Peace. That many of those I was having breakfast would not have a job if we had Peace in the world. This concept doesn’t just apply to Peace, think about logging, for example. There are paid loggers who could care less about the rate we destroy forests-because they feed their families with the money earned by destroying them.

I was contemplating this and reading the El Paso front page news and came across a blurb from a politician who echoed these thoughts. He was discussing the drug trafficking violence occurring around the border, near Juarez. He had spoken with some college graduates who had blown a lot of coke the night of their graduation. The example seemed a bit farfetched, I don’t know why these girls would divulge info about their escapades.

Nonetheless-he was pointing out that drug trafficking exists because of a need-there is a symbiotic relationship. Had those girls said, you know, I don’t want to do this coke because I realize how many people are dying around getting it here, well, that’s how you put a stop to the cycle. Being conscious of how your wants contribute to greater problems.

And this violence is occuring 5 minutes away from El Paso. I rode out of town and saw the sign for the pedestrian crossing into Juarez. I looked over to my left and actually saw the gates. This is the riding I’ve been nervous about, mainly because people contact me and say I should be nervous.When that happens enough, I question my own intuition-never a good thing.

But I’m a little psyched out. And it’s hot. And windy. God, so windy. I actually ran into a dust devil yesterday. The wind was 15 mph, SW, with some gusts about 30mph. But this dust devil shook my front tires, shook ’em, and I almost lost control. It was only about a 10 ft patch- really strange.

I was now in New Mexico and cruised down NM 9, a desolate road. Except for border patrol. Everywhere. Which actually made me feel safer. I was on an empty stretch when I spotted a van in my mirrors. He had on his right turn signal. That can be a sign to switch lanes sometimes, so the faster vehicle can pass. Or to pull over. Neither of which I can do, because it’s a one laner with no shoulder.

He goes to pass me and I think ok, he’s just flaky, doesn’t know left from right. Then he slows down in front of me. A little alarmed, I speed up to pass him, to avoid some situation of him slamming on the brakes. He starts waving to me and says to pull over. Ya right Buddy.

Sorry. My conscious really had to grapple with that. I want to help people in need, but I’m not stopping on this road. I’m in front of him for about half a mile, still debating whether or not I should go against my rule and stop to help him. Then I see a border patrol car, so I point to the van behind me. I turn to the van and point at the border patrol. I saw him pull over, and that was the last I saw of him.

I was on two roads most of the way yesterday. NM9 and AZ 80. The terrain on both was completely different, but they shared windy conditions, isolated stretches, absence of fueling stations. However, I didn’t run out of gas. They were positioned just close enough. Every 80 miles I filled up, whether or not on empty. The wind was killing my fuel economy and speed. I literally banged my helmet on the headset.

I drove 9 hours yesterday, top speed, 50. No ipod. It died the day the trip started. I was cranky, really cranky. Contemplating, for the first time ever, stopping. Just a fleeting thought. The desert was dry and harsh. I finally surrendered and began to focus on positive thoughts. It’s so funny how 30 minutes can seem like an eternity.

I spotted some strange rock sculptures. I’ve seen these before. The first time was the Blair Witch Project. The second time at the Omega Institute. Nothing in common there, folks. I only saw these along the border, on both sides. I have no idea if these are monuments to people who have crossed, or died crossing. Or just a hobby of someone who lives in the area.

A good hour after I had shifted my attitude, I saw a monument for Geronimo. The monument to his surrender. This made me think of how differently people interpret the word surrender. Some view it as a form of success derived from another persons failure; meanwhile psychologists and new agers encourage it as a way to master the ego.

The landscape had changed drastically. I could just imagine Native American tribes galloping through the hills on horseback. I could see where they would hide when in battle. There were flash flood warning signs everywhere and gullies. Stuff I’ve only read about in books before or seen in movies. Me and Audre felt pretty little within the scene. I wanted to be in the hills, galloping along on horseback.

I scooted past roads named “Ruff Ride” “Sock and Shoe” and “Windy.” I went through about 2 gallons of water, it was so dry and dusty. The elevation change was also dehydrating.

I rode into the West, the blazing sun beginning to set and burn my retinas. When I reached the border town of Douglas I rang up my couchsurfing hosts. 45 minutes later, the signs for Bisbee welcomed me.

Driving up, up, up and around the mountains, I see a huge hole in the ground. This was a copper mine. I will go visit in just a minute. It was getting to dark to take photos. The town reminds me of a European village. Bisbee has to be one of the neatest places I’ve visited in America. My hosts, Mo and Paxton are great. They too are self confessed food, beer and music snobs. We talked for hours and played vinyl records.

They just moved in together this week and I’m their first guest. They cooked falafel from scratch and served it with pita bread that they had also made. Amazing. I was exhausted, crossing my 2nd time zone in a day. I’m off to explore just a little before Mike and Ron meet me here in town. They are driving in from Tucson to ride back with me. I will be there for the weekend.

Peace!

Gas prices going up has got me down. I’m sure that’s not a catchy phrase I invented. And I could spin it to say: gas prices going up has still got me going down the road-at 90 mpg.
But, it’s true, this oil crisis is ridiculous. A gallon runs a good $.75-$1.25 more than last year and just yesterday I spent almost $20. Last year the total for 11,000 miles was $388.00. I’m keeping tabs on this year’s total.

Perhaps I should actually be thankful that I’ve run out of gas 4x here in Texas, because none of those kind folks would accept my cash for their gas. Right now I’m still smarting from the idea that oil is everywhere here, yet none in a pump for my tank. Jeezus, I mean really now. I’ve been going 120+ miles with almost no sign of life, aside from snakes, deer, hawks and rabbits. An NO sign of fueling stations.

Although, despite my general frustration right now-the day has been pretty eventful; long, empty hot roads interrupted with great conversation. This morning I cased out the Quality Inn next door to see if they had enough free Continental breakfast to share with lil ol’ me.

I travel with a solo cup plastic french press, to save money on coffee without compromising the quality. I grabbed some hot water for it and talked to the motel manager. I wound up being glad they were all booked up last night. The Motel 6 wasn’t really any worse. It comes down to excuses. The manager at the Quality Inn was making them, while Motel 6 just doesn’t care and patrons know this-there are no bells and whistles. Apparently the cook didn’t show up, so the manager had no breakfast-no toast, no cereal, nada. He didn’t know where the cook had put the stuff. As though the kitchen was the size of Hogwarts or something. Then I heard him tell a guest, yes, the internet is out. It’s not our fault though, the service comes from NY. So, carrying on with the travel tips on saving money.

I started my morning back over at the same truck stop where dinner was eaten last night. If you aren’t going to utilize the unlimited buffet option, ask for a discount. You will almost always get it. Fact is, a lot of that buffet food goes to waste. As long as you aren’t lying through your teeth-don’t go back for seconds-it’s a deal for you both. They charged me $3 to have a full plate of goodies.

While there I couldn’t help listening to a group of truck drivers passing around their two cents. I took it in, didn’t agree with most of it, but was interested in their opinions. Then one truck driver made the comment that the Earth’s elliptical orbit creates a natural global warming and that greenhouse gases are normal and help to regulate temperature. Which, is actually true. However, his claim was that we don’t need to change a damn thing about our lifestyle.

So I interrupted.
“Well, yes, you are right, the Earth has it’s own warming/cooling cycles. But we can trace accelerated global warming to man’s abuse of resources. Just because global warming happens naturally to a degree doesn’t mean we should justify all the waste we create in our world. There’s just more efficient ways to do things. Like drive a scooter instead of a SUV.”

Duh. I’m in Texas. I’m the only scooterist out on these roads. Every trucker has now turned to look at me. So I smile, I smile big.

He’s looking miffed. Sometimes, a glance can tell you much more than any words. I let it go and asked him about his job and if truck companies have a higher service charge as fuel goes up. Which surprisingly, the answer was no. They were all peeved about that and said that they used to make more money 10 years ago. I managed to work in some jokes and smooth things over. But, you know, I didn’t want to really. There’s just nothing false to my statement. Humans aren’t very resourceful. We waste a lot, we destroy habitats and we take a long time to change our ways. It’s just a cop out to say global warming happens naturally as part of the Earth’s cycle and then excuse yourself from learning how to be a better environmental steward.

Binary thinking often binds and blinds us to the art of compromise and understanding. After paying my check, I bummed a smoke from a chap on a motorcycle. We talked a bit about two wheel travel and then I asked if he had served in the military, because I saw his P.O.W. M.I.A bandana.

He said, “No, I was too young to serve in Vietnam and too old to serve in Desert Storm.”

So, I say it sounds like he wants to serve in the military. And then I ask if this means he supports the current war.

He says, “Oh yes. We do need to protect ourselves from terrorists.”

“So, you think we are really always under the possibility of attack, huh?”

“Oh, yes. I do want our troops to come home though. Meddling in other people’s business isn’t the way to solve our problems.”

“So you think we should direct that 3 trillion spent in war towards solving our own problems?”

“Well, very few people in uniform died in 9/11. I think every city needs to experience what NY did during 9/11.”

“I just don’t feel it, you know, like we constantly face the threat of attack. I know we have problems here, for certain. Problems that were indicated when we had another national crisis-Hurricane Katrina.”

“Oh, no, now I differ from you on that. You can’t possibly get my sympathy when you willingly congregate to a land destined to be under water. No sympathy. They are meddling with nature.” (some of this is paraphrased)

“Absolute dominion, huh? That idea we can do whatever we want, without consequence.”

“That’s right and they paid the price.”

I say, “well, using the same logic as that, maybe we ultimately create this great threat of terrorism by exercising the idea of absolute dominion, not just there, but around the world.”

He says, “What do you think is the number one reason we are attacked?”

“Because we choose sides. It’s not just because we practice different religious and cultural beliefs. We choose sides based on our own interests.”

“Yes!”

“I don’t see them attacking China.”

“Well, China isn’t choosing sides.”

“Right. (they are also driving a lot of scooters there) And we choose sides to serve our own agenda. Hmmm, like oil. So, the way I look at it is pretty apolitical, mostly. I don’t want to argue about the war. I don’t want to argue if GWB is stupid-because it comes down to his power. He’s obviously got power and the more the nation focuses on his so called stupidity, the less they accept that he uses his power to chip away at our own power. Kind of like a slight of hand, ya know? So I want to focus on how we can change our patterns, like say fuel reliance-things that lead us into needing Mid East oil.”

“Well, what your generation needs to do, after this election, because this election is a joke-is to get some real leaders. We’ve got 150 years of fuel left but you need to get some leaders who will make some absolute industry standards.” (where to people get this number-150???)

“Well, what I want your generation to do is to teach us while learning from us. Every generation thinks their way is right. I think we would all repeat a lot less mistakes if humans weren’t so resistant to change and more willing to integrate.”

That was a pretty intense conversation with a total stranger. And not once was a voice raised or a feeling hurt. We moved on to talk about riding-where I’m headed-where he’s going. Peace out and I was off for El Paso. It took about 4 minutes on “Main Street” for Pecos to disappear in the mirrors. And there I was again, surrounded by pipeline, fields and ever stretching horizon.

About half a tank through, I get a sense of dejavu. Picking up my road west, on 652, I spot a truck. I flag him down and ask where the next gas station is. Great guy, name was Manuel Rodriguez. He thinks there is a station at the junction about 40 miles ahead. He told me about growing up in San Antonio and Pecos, TX. The money he makes in the oil fields provides for good living. He seems to enjoy traveling a lot and we talked about New York City and Maui. How both places are great to visit but could never live there. Great man, very kind.

More road, more oil, more big sky. The heat wasn’t too bad in these parts. A steady wind was picking up and scanned the horizon for storms, no sign yet. I reach the junction and see no open station. Just a ramshackle skeleton of what used to be a well placed fuel station. Jeezus. I took a wrong turn and noticed I was in New Mexico. Turning around, I was able to get a shot of the state sign. I laughed upon reading something about driving friendly-the Texas way. About 10 miles down on the left, fuel gauge reading empty, I spot a guy working on his deck.

He tells me that the closest place is 15 miles the opposite direction. Turns out he had just given his last reserve to someone who had made a moped-rigged a mountain bike with an engine. Crazy. Turns out we were at the office to a pipeline and he said some guys would probably come by with extra gas, soon enough. I placed his empty gas can next to the scoot, as a sign.

Two guys came by, no gas. So me and Danny talked. He had bad hearing and my voice is pretty hoarse, so it was a very hysterical interlude of me having to shout. He offered food, a bathroom and coffee. He tells me about the land and points over to New Mexico. He says, “You are in the Wild Wild West, girl.”

He tells me all about the drug problems around these parts and then says that I’m driving on one of the most notorious drug trafficking roads. Great. I’ve been gearing up for this part of the ride anyhow-riding close to the border means taking extra precautions. Which means probably buying a gas can tonight!

Finally, Ivan comes by and jumps right into action. He gave me a full tank and we all talk about P.E.A.C.E SCOOT. Turns out they both served in Vietnam and fully support what I am doing right now. Danny offered me a great definition of Peace.

“Peace isn’t regulating society out of responsibility.” “Now you think about that for awhile.”

I love it! I gave him a postcard and pointed to the back, where it says, don’t point one finger, point two. I explain that this means more than just a peace sign. Point one finger at the problem and one at yourself for accountability. He loved it!

They tell me that El Paso is 120 miles ahead, and that tank has to last me. Danny pointed to a mountain peak mostly hidden by the clouds. He says I will go over the highest point in Texas. They were both great guys!

180W opened up into a beautiful ride. I wound through the Guadalupe Mountains, stopping to take lot of photos. The colors were gorgeous and the elevation climbed up to 6,000 ft. The scoot was having a hard time going over 50, to my frustration. The elevation, the heat, and severe crosswinds impacted my speed. Which is frightening on a road where the speed limit is 75mph. And potential drug traffickers are zooming past. I saw a caravan of black SUV’s with tinted windows go by, as I was taking a photo. I quickly packed the camera up and scooted on. Just in case. I didn’t want anyone to think I was photographing license plates.

The views were pretty, but it had more to do with the way the mountains stood out among the flat horizon and big sky. I wouldn’t want to hike out there, but the contrast of sandstone colors against sage and blue grey storm clouds was very pretty. This was about the only moment of pure bliss I experienced. The rest of ride I was fighting severe wind gusts and racing storm clouds. My route was right in the middle of two storm systems it looked like. One moving in from the North, the other from the South.

A few drops pelted me for 5 minutes, but it felt great. The Earth smelled so good and musky, it was amazing. Then I pulled out ahead of the rain and rode into dust storms.

I was completely hot, parched, shaky and out of gas when finally an Exxon appeared. Maybe I could have gone one more mile.

I’ve been using a CamelBak, priceless in this weather. While it hydrates, it also makes you have to pee really frequently. The route had been to flat, to full of rattlers and scorpions and too trafficked to take care of business. I had a stand off with the clerks, who didn’t want me to pee there, because the restroom, “was drying out from being cleaned.” I explained nicely, but firmly that I was going to use the bathroom. I explained that I had not seen a restroom for 120 miles and if they could please take mercy on me, being that one day, they might wind up feeling the same way. It still took 7 minutes to get into a restroom that was absolutely already dry!

A pretty adventurous day, all by 5pm. I was hot, grumpy and sunburned when I arrived. I’ve been extra stressed out about riding this close to the border and I’m trying to just relax. There is a reason why the 20,000 mile Peace sign needs to stretch down this far and I’ve just got to get it done. I will arrive in Tucson this weekend, I’m really looking forward to it. My friend from Flagstaff will drive to meet me and even spot me on the ride over to Yuma.

That makes me feel a little less stressed but I’m still trying to make up for some lost days. The riding I will have done by Friday was originally meant to take 3 more days than I’ve had. I’ve been jamming along. I’ve got to do some work to cover for these motel expenses. At least there will be plenty of places to stay and camp along the West Coast!

Oh, today P.E.A.C.E SCOOTER is officially 1 year old. Last year on this day, I went to buy an atlas and start plotting the route. It was there that I ran into a customer, John. He asked what I was doing and was the first person to encourage me to do it. He called it, an adventure through the looking glass.

Thanks for reading! Please leave some comments! Please tell your friends! Please enter the raffles!!!!

Peace!

Day 25. 400 miles from Austin to Pecos.

Austin has been good to me. My visit in Austin was extended by three days, not my original plan but not a bad place for plans to change. Audre (the scoot) was shipped home from Urban Moto last year and I barely remember it all through the haze that comes after 3 months on the road. My host Jazmin and her boyfriend Fernando, are incredibly warm, thoughtful people. They allowed me a 6 night retreat; my own room included and two dogs to love upon.

Jazmin is a new scooterist, although she’s thrown herself into it; accessories, modifications, gear. It’s such a pretty Buddy that we had an impromptu Buddy photo shoot. She’s still breaking in the engine and honing her skills. Austin might be intimidating for a new scooterist, though not as bad as some- it’s big and traffic is heavy. Austin is a wonderful town though and Jazmin went out of her way to make sure I had fun.

I might have disappointed her by laying low most nights, but honestly, blogging and running this ride alone takes a lot of work. I’m still making plans as I go along. Your offers for places to stay are definitely helpful and appreciate. sI enjoyed a lot of good eating; my favorite places were Mr. Natural and Whole Foods. The global headquarters for WF is in Austin and it is a perfect spot to feast, on food and people watching. WF supplied P.E.A.C.E SCOOT with a gift card and sadly, it’s almost gone.

My favorite day aside from the BBQ hosted by Urban Moto was the day at Barton Springs. Me and Jazmin scooted over there for an afternoon in the cold, clear waters. Barton Springs is an aquifer, it supplies the town with its water and relief from hot Texas days. The temperature is always 69 degrees. Although it was a nice reprieve from the 100+ temps, it was a little too cold for me.

The time in Austin presented an opportunity to catch up on work and get to know my new friend Jazmin. I contacted the Peace and Justice Center in Austin but it wasn’t until my 8th call that someone finally answered, the day before I left. Sometimes it’s frustratingly difficult to contact Peace organizations, out of 100, probably 10 contact me back.

On Sunday I decided to visit San Antonio. I’ve seen most of Texas a this point and didn’t want to leave it out. Steve Guzman suggested the perfect route, one where I could mostly cruise at 45mph.

I passed many motorcyclists, rode on Purgatory Drive, visited a bonsai garden, and photographed people tubing down the Guadalupe Rive. Within the first few minutes of arriving downtown, I met Tim. I only had two hours to visit and he decided to hang out with me and play tour guide. We had a great time together on the riverwalk and I hope we stay in touch. Tim led me out of town and showed me a fair amount of San Antonio that I wouldn’t have otherwise seen.

Early this morning I woke to heavy, wet grey skies. The plan was to make it 300 miles out of town. However, I set my new record, 400 miles. But I only beat it by 20. That’s a lot on a 125cc. I only wore the rain suit a brief stretch, the sun eventually burned off the grey.

It’s hard to be a scooterist here. Standard speed limit on the byways is 70 mph. They say everything is bigger in Texas, I must be the exception to the rule, on my scooter. I’ve had very many harrowing experiences, but no real danger. What is most stressful is that drivers forget to offer me the same room as they would a car when passing. And they need to refrain from blaring on the horn. You can honk all you want but the scooter won’t go any faster.

Traffic was sparse after the holiday and I had most of the back country to myself. Towns were positioned just close enough to avoid running out of gas. The only food available has been fast food or truck stop vittles. I’ve been surprised by the Hill Country. Texas is not just flat and brown. The terrain dipped and curved, cutting through canyons. There were many ascents where a huge panorama welcomed me at the top, then introduced me to a steep descent. The Interstate is the preferred way to travel around these parts. The roads I was on seem to be used mainly by oil companies, cattlemen and residents. Although I didn’t see many houses. They were probably way back from the road, surrounded by 100’s of acres.

I spent most of the day honking at vultures flocked in the road, preying on roadkill. I know it sounds gross, but the amount of roadkill in Texas is astounding. All day hawks flew gracefully overhead. 200 miles outside of Austin the terrain began changing, eventually flattening out.

I noticed a pungent smell reminiscent to a perm. At first I thought it was the juniper brush which had replaced the tree lines. Then I realized it was the smell of crude oil. The next hundred miles passed with nary the sight of another vehicle, only oil rigs pumping the earth were visible. The heat had risen only about 300 miles into the ride, late in the afternoon, and I was right in the setting sun. Otherwise temperature hung at about 82.

I had a brief moment of panic when the only fueling station I had seen in 120 miles was closed. A group of kids, maybe 14 years old driving their parent’s truck told me the closest station was 20 miles away. I wasn’t going to make it. The next person I saw, across the street in front of the church, was pushing a lawnmower into a shed. I headed over and inquired if there was any extra fuel I could purchase. She very kindly donated a gallon of gas which barely brought me into town. Fingers of lightning were crashing just northwest of us. For a good hour I raced to stay ahead of the storms and triumphed. The sun was setting as I gunned the final stretch into Pecos, honking intermittently to alert the rabbits and deer coming out for the night.

The final stretch of miles was very peaceful. It was so good to be back in the saddle again after 7 days off. Delirium had settled in; I thought I felt great until dismounting the scoot. I was shaky from not eating since 11am. The scenery was hypnotic today. I had a lot on my mind and so it was soothing to open up and ride; to immerse myself in the landscape.

The sun vanished just as I checked into my cheap Motel 6 room. Apparently the Melrose Place of Pecos, TX, it’s really the friendliest Motel 6 I’ve ever visited. A lot of contractors work in this area, mainly oil work. There is really nothing else. Even at 12:30, people are still running around, swimming and mingling.

Earlier I searched around for some decent cheap food. I broke down and went to Wal-Mart- I despise everything it stands for. My hope was for some greens to make a salad, although there was no produce. Dinner was enjoyed alone in a truck stop diner. The ladies there gave me the salad bar for .99. I sat quietly chewing dinner in the company of about 15 truckers; all seemingly lost in thought after another long day at the wheel. The road definitely offers the time to reflect….

Ryan just told me that his definition of Peace is serenity amid chaos. He also says that if his child asked him what it means, he would say, “you need to discover it for yourself.” That said, I bid you goodnight.

Okay, sorry about the delay in posting the winners of the Timbuk2 bag raffle and pint glass. There are many situations that have come up in the past couple of days which required my attention.

On Friday I notified Shane Wilson and Sarah Chadd that they were winners in the third raffle! Shane enthusiastically wrote back, saying:

Wow!
This is so unexpected.
Uhmm…
I’d like to thank the academy, the fans who voted, jesus….
Oh man, now the music started.
Thanks everyone. Seriously, thanks.

No, THANK YOU! Shane has the right idea. He buys lots of tickets.

However, I want to offer a generous thanks to everyone contributing, it is amazing. I added up all the totals that have been donated. This includes cash given to me on the road as well as the $807 that was raised by participating in the CLAW event and the $100 dollars from the CCPJ in Charlottesville. Now, Genuine kindly donated $1,000. This means that they alone raised $600 for donation.

Really, the goal is honest and simple. $1 per 1 mile driven. More than half of that, 60% is divided between four organizations. Let me emphasize that two of those have been chosen. I am volunteering at organizations along the route in hopes to make a decision between the final two. All monies will be donated at the end.

My hope is that I will be able to give even more than the .60cents per dollar. So far, P.E.A.C.E costs have been minimal.

I want to bring awareness to my financial situation. I don’t have financial backers. I didn’t have a lot of money saved, but I had some. I also have a small job I can do from the road, which covers costs getting town to town. Genuine has agreed to sell shirts for me, and after costs, $5 of the sale goes to P.E.A.C.E SCOOT. However, that $5 goes straight into the fund raising pot.

And how about that pot?!!! What you see on the chipin is not totally accurate. It gets better. Some donations have been made straight through paypal, which is not reflected in the chipin.

The total raised so far is $4,175.15.

This means that $2505.09 has been fund raised for donation.

Even more specifically:
That’s $1,062.54 for the Peace Alliance
$208.75 for The Last Mile Ride donation to Crystal Waters

$1,252 left for donation between two other organizations. I’m just tickled pink! Don’t forget that your opinion is always appreciated. If you want to recommend a great Environmental organization and Community minded organization, PLEASE send me an email!

The new raffle prizes have been posted; a orange safety vest and pair of scooter socks. Safety and style. Lots of new scooterists out there on the road due to RIDICULOUS gas prices, but this is also good for bicyclists. Or maybe a drunken monkey walk home from the bar….Either way, PLEASE help support P.E.A.C.E

Orange Safety Vest with LED Light Bar from Scooterworks
Value: $29.99 (Scooterworks price $25.99)

You can win it for as little as $5. Take a chance on the vest…not on the road.

ALSO, we’ve got you covered down to your toes this week with these scooter socks: (Value: $9.95)

 

 

I hope everyone is enjoying their three day holiday. Today is Memorial Day and in addition to honoring our soldiers, I encourage you to contemplate how we can create more Peace. I’ve been perusing some resources to find out how many wars we’ve been involved with since the Civil War; the origins of this holiday.

I came across a passage, the article itself somewhat a rant. The slant however, is good, as the author brings up questions that really matter. How can we continue to spend more than any other country on Defense when our own people lack health care, food, and shelter? Many U.S. interventions have been seemingly altruistic, but this unselfish concern for the needs or interests of others must be applied domestically.

The way I see it- our soldiers, a voluntary profession, keep in mind, and our taxes, a mandatory requirement, go towards battles that don’t create Peace. Peace is not the objective of War. The U.S. is a pretty aggressive country. It’s also a more prosperous nation than most, but that doesn’t impress me much when you stop to consider our own suffering infrastructure. And then stop to consider the 3 trillion dollars that have gone into this war and how it could be invested differently. It’s time for the U.S. to lead us into the next era of international relations by changing its own aggressive tendencies, taking better care of its own people and build without destroying. I’m always confused by the premise that welfare and a big federal government is horrible but trillions of dollars spent in a War whose to build a democracy overseas is justified.

Per our aggression throughout the years, as found at http://www.alternet.org/audits/77827/

“For example, suppose you wanted to measure comparative national warlike tendencies by simply counting wars. Since World War II, the United States has messed around, in ways big and small, in Korea, Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, Cuba, the Dominican Republic, Afghanistan, Nicaragua, Guatemala, El Salvador, Lebanon, Grenada, Iraq, Panama, Colombia, Somalia, Bosnia, Kosovo, Haiti, Afghanistan again, and Iraq again. No country in the world can begin to match this record in the last half-century. And I’m not even listing here the covert operations (almost everywhere), including the ones that toppled democratically elected governments (Iran, Guatemala, Chile, etc.), the long-term occupations of Latin American countries by the U.S. military, the gunboat diplomacy of the American Navy around the world, the aiding and abetting of other killers (Saddam invading Iran, for example, apartheid South Africa or the Israeli occupation of Palestine), the militarization of the oceans and of space, or the myriad other ways in which the United States leads the planet in aggressive tendencies. (For a whole century’s worth of overseas fun — not even counting the big stuff — Stephen Kinzer’s Overthrow is highly recommended reading.) ”

In other news, the Veterans for Peace have been blocked by the American Veterans Center from marching in the annual parade. Veterans for Peace intended to carry a casket representing the loss in war. I’m not sure why that is considered political. The reality is people aside from our own troops die in war. In Vietnam, our news actually showed the caskets coming home. The news now takes a cleaner approach to war, put it would serve us well to realize the atrocity of War. We tend to see it in financial terms more than anything; the war cost us a trillion dollars, the price of gas has gone up, we are facing a recession.

In defense, president of the group, Jim Roberts, says, “”We don’t allow groups in the parade that are projecting an opinion. That goes for pro-mission as well as anti-war,” Roberts said. However, I would say that generally being a vet means at one time you were pro-mission. Except if you were drafted. For more on the article, click here.
I try to stay very apolitical while on the P.E.A.C.E ride. My focus is Peace, what does it mean, how do we create it in our personal lives. However, each individual exists as part of a greater community and then as part of a global human network. Topics like this have to be considered. Just in case you haven’t read enough over here today, I am reposting the blog about the Memorial from last year.

Have a great Memorial day, drive safe and don’t forget to think about Peace!

A Day of Remembrance.

Odometer Reading at departure: 3,563.0
Memorial Stopping Point: 3,690.0

That is 127 miles spent contemplating the value of life and the measure of man, holding many questions in my thoughts. The day’s journey was dedicated to all lives lost in war.

I departed Fairbury, Nebraska, heading toward the 11th vector on the Peace map- Sioux Falls, South Dakota. My first stop was in Seward, NE, for breakfast/lunch and coffee. I pulled in to a very Norman Rockwell small town and went to the local grocery store. The locals had all congregated for lunch and raised eyebrows at me.
I made myself invisible and listened to the banter about politics and the heat, chewing on a starchy, greasy grilled cheese and tomato. It had become obvious to me that these areas in the Plains had sent many youth off to fight-in many wars.
For hundreds of miles past and to come- I have seen memorials and signs in support of our soldiers.

I am riding for Peace. I would like those who also support the soldiers to understand that means I want to see an end to war so that our soldiers don’t keep dying. Which is pretty supportive, I think. Let’s refer back to that “for us or against us”, mentality that so endangers our ability to problem solve and communicate effectively. I do not stand in support of this war but I pay tribute to those who lost their lives in this complicated mess.

I feel the measure of loss from it-on all sides.

Of course I don’t want our soldiers, or ANY SOLDIERS, to die. How could I say I want this? Are not our hands bloodied indirectly- though soldiers face immediate death-through allowing this war? How can I say “I am willing for there to be death for there to be Peace?” Perhaps in our past history, this was the only way. But have any of these wars created Peace? Or just oppression?

This evolution everyone talks about-where? when? how? I can boot up the computer and play an online game of chess with someone in Russia. The scooter I ride was made in Taiwan. Do you shop at Walmart? All that stuff was made in China. Where did your jeans come from? Your underwear? Your food? Your stocks-how many countries are you invested in? Our lives are interconnected-at the very least-from a monetary perspective. The point being, we have access to other cultures in a way we never did before-other cultures are becoming embedded in our lives-and ours in theirs. We are building global bridges. How can we continue this attitude that we will send our youth off to kill, or to die as a way to resolve conflict? Why is it not just as patriotic to be a visionary statesman/woman and brainstorm new ways of conflict resolution as it is to bury our youth and spend billions of American money?

In war, people die-lives, families and towns are forever altered through the decision to declare and fight a war. I don’t want war. I want us to accept that conflict is inevitable, I experience it in some form at least every other day. How we choose to resolve it and create viable decisions for our precious youth is the new paradigm. I guess it comes down to power. And power over is something our country has always had. Maybe its time to set the bar and create institutions that resolve conflict by developing power with. The more we exert power over, the more conflict will continue to fester. Conflict hasn’t been removed-just shifted-in that type of relationship. If someone’s spouse beats them into submission because they are complaining about something, they can only shut them up for a bit, they haven’t solved the problem. They are ruling their partner by fear only. Beating your partner for dominance isn’t a last resort tactic-it’s plain wrong. No matter what the situation is. What if we applied that mentality to our global tactics? Sure, it’s complicated. You don’t have to tell me that, or think this snippet is my only synopsis of international relations, thank you. But our tactics in the Mid-East aren’t developing sustainable futures. And our youth and their youth are dying-at rapid rates.

The day’s journey was dedicated to all those lives lost in war. At a protest in September the death count was at 2703. When the odometer hit 3670, I called my friend for the latest death count. Unfortunately, it had gone up one since the morning-and there were probably more unrecorded. That last twenty miles was very solemn for me. I had spent all day relating my living to the deaths these soldiers experienced-giving thanks I have it. I thought about what I would do if Death came to me and said I had the day to spend as I wished. A tractor trailer came hauling up behind me at 3689, so that last mile countdown was a hectic. I maneuvered over to the side of the road and settled in for a little memorial.

There I was, surround by nothing but corn, twenty miles past the town of Schuyler, NE, begging the universe that we learn from these tragedies we invent. I read passages on Non Violence from Martin Luther King and held a prayer for us. A mailbox (?) stood across the way, so I put a postcard in it. The explanation on the card said that I was traveling through on a ride for Peace and that my odometer just reached the number of dead U.S. Soldiers. I asked that they take a moment of silence and help to envision a better world, then fill out the postcard and send it to a friend-or the President.

Then I prepared a geo-cache package and placed it in a ziplock baggie under some loose chunks of asphalt by a “School Bus Stop Ahead,” sign. So, if you are traveling Hwy 15 through Nebraska-there is a package hidden there. It’s GPS coordinates are +41° 38′ 10.50″, -97° 3′ 33.96″ (41.636250, -97.059433)

The mileage of the Peace Scooter tour 2007 will never be equal to the amount of total casualties; a reminder that war is lose-lose proposition and Peace is not solely a political endeavor. It’s personal and it’s fundamental that we envision new ways to resolve conflict.

That night as I headed towards Sioux Falls, the sunset was the most breathtaking one I have ever seen. It lasted about half an hour at least, the longest sunset I have ever seen, I swear. My route kept shifting, east, then north. Every bend I came around presented a new exhilarating angle. Miles Davis was playing on the iPod, my heart was soaring, and my mind reeling from the intoxication of being human. There are a lot of prospects ahead in our future-let’s not forget the interconnectedness we share on this Earth. Thanks for reading and being there at the memorial with me for a moment…..

If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other. -Mother Theresa (1910-1997)

*ok, 3 loooong blogs should keep you going for a bit*

Since Lake Charles I have traveled 390 miles, crossing into Texas, with a stop so far in Beaumont and Austin. I’ve finally seen A GATOR IN THE WILD and it provoked a hankering for a hunkering down in Cajun country to dance Zydeco, wrassle gators and fall in love with life. And again, with the photo:

I stayed a brief 12 hours in Beaumont, TX, hosted by a hip artist who let me couchsurf. She was hosting another couchsurfer traveling on 2 wheels, Dan, Dan the sarcastic man. This fella was interesting and I took his sarcasm in stride. Apparently he wanted to pick a fight with me because I’m on a Peace ride-this is what he told me. But he never did and I told him it was pretty common that people try to do so. I had an enjoyable breakfast with them both, scrumptious egg scramble and warm pita. The night before found me in sleep before midnight, that has happened maybe 3 times since I’ve turned 18. Even with 8 hours of sleep, 7:30 is too early.

Dan is boldly cycling across the country, taking the lower elevation through the South, from St. Augustine, FL to San Diego, CA. He doesn’t seem to be enjoying it much though and can’t wait for it to be over. We empathized with another on living out of a bag and checked out each other’s systems. I’m a bit envious how his stuff just clips in such a nice German performance way. Me-I’m messin with straps and bungees and hoping it all stays put.

The speed limit in Texas stays on the upper side of fast, so travel has been, well, FAST. I haven’t felt unsafe, but the abundance of road kill makes me wonder. The roads have begun to improve, thankfully. I’ve been rather focused on the road itself, since MS and LA, straining ahead for holes and cracks that can sabotage a 10inch tire. I’ve seen a greener part to TX than I imagined existed.

Crossing state lines has led to a rise in temperature, a warm Texas welcome, fer sure! Currently temperatures are in the upper 90’s. As I head West, my longing for a mesh jacket will only increase. Thankfully I have a Camelbak for hydration. I arrived in Austin on Monday night. Wanting space to myself and not hearing back from couchsurfers I made a reservation at a campground. Checking my mail later that night I found everyone wrote back and suddenly I had a choice of 8 places to stay!

I enjoyed the campground very much though, sleeping outside and not worrying if my stuff was in any ones way. I spread all my crap out and completely enjoyed having some privacy. The campground folks were totally sweet and apparently some of ’em were old hippies. They gave me donations, took a bunch of postcards and told me some stories and perspectives. Thanks y’all.

Austin is a blue, progressive oasis here in the Big Red State of Texas. It’s inhabitants are hip, weird, smart and apparently pretty Peace logical. I’m staying with Jazmin who told me last night she thought I was going to be a girly-girl uber hippy-paraphrasing there. This is not the first time I’ve heard such comments. Apparently with the hair long, women think I’m a girly girl and some people are still calling me sir. I get very confused when I stop to think about other people’s logic-so I’ve stopped trying to make sense of it.

Jazmin shares a great place with her man and just recently became a Buddy owner. I’ve seen a bunch of scooterists here and had the pleasure to meet a bunch of them through Urban Moto. Now last year the ride ended in Crawford but the party was here in Austin, at the shop. I don’t remember much of anything, only the glaring lights of the TV cameraman. And wanting a bed and a beer. At some point I was photographed with two in hand, so I guess it was a great night! Steve Guzman engineered most of the festivities and press. He’s a real local celebrity round here and I appreciate his company and his friends.

Now, these guys run Urban Moto in Austin, TX and they deserve mad love for all the ways they’ve supported P.E.A.C.E SCOOT.
Longhorn John

Longhorn Clayton

Longhorn Greg

They are really on their way to owning a scoot empire down here. They love what they do and it shows, because there are always positive messages about them online in the forums.

Last year they hosted a fantastic BBQ and this year they also welcomed me back into town with one. Jazmin brought over some fajita meat, and we grilled out in 101 degree heat! She had to leave though because of a stomach bug and wasn’t up for hanging out. It was nice to meet everyone, especially many of the Modern Buddy scooter forum members, who I mainly know by their online handles. I met Casey, very sharp guy who is in recovery from a bad scooter accident back in April. Also there was Heather, with pink hair in above photo, who had ridden out to Crawford last year with Steve. They met me there and escorted me back to Austin.

The night ended early and since then things have been very chill. Sadly, not many Austinites can come out to play on the weekday, as has been the case in most places I visit. Now, if it were more of a vacation I would make a point to hit these spots on weekends, but it’s not. I’m enjoying Jazmin, she’s got a wicked sense of humor and she’s really trying to rouse everyone into action. I told her today, like Rusty my host in Beaumont says, “…lack no good-thing…” Meaning I am so very thankful for all I have and not a day passes without recognizing all the support coming this way. Thanks y’all

I’ve had a lot of writing to catch up on and I’m trying to organize photos. My photos are so horribly unorganized compared to last year. That’s because I spent more time alone in hotels/campgrounds last year. I’ve been working here and there on the second road.
The down time is great, as things are getting ready to get hot and heavy. I’m a little nervous about the border rides, but I know it’s important for the border to be included in the Peace sign.

The temperatures are triple digits where I am headed and Oh Yeah, suddenly it’s Memorial Day weekend, so I will be stuck in a lot of traffic. I have a bit of a schedule to keep, as my friend Katie is driving down from Flagstaff next weekend to see me and I have 963 miles to go until then! She’s going to trail me on some of the ride, so we can explore SouthWest Arizona together. I’m also volunteering in Mexico actually, if all works out.
I will hopefully help out an organization that helps children abandoned at the border.

So it’s nice to rest up in the meanwhile and do such in such an amazing town. Which, I should go explore….RIGHT NOW! Peace out!

I fiercely hope sometimes that this blog appeals to people, even if it’s mostly devoid of tales of drinking beer and debauchery across 9,000 miles. See, I leave most of that out, as I’m really hoping to share with you those raw, beautiful and unusual moments. The ones that highlight the good in people, the moments meeting strangers that defies the world we see projected on our TV screens. And, yes, those moments do often occur over food and spirits. Like at Finn McCools Irish Pub in NOLA.

This is where I was headed after my first post on arriving in NOLA. Alan, my host the first night in NOLA, had announced the meetup with short notice. Surprisingly, quite a many great people showed up, even a Royal Bastard. I was late after attempting to follow shoddy directions and then ultimately relying on the sense of familiarity I’ve only recently acquired in NOLA. It’s a difficult town for a visitor; confusing layout. And while it can at first seem so big and intimidating, every visit makes it feel a little smaller and more familiar.

We talked outside over brews and the group introduced me to many regulars. Eric the Barefoot took a handful of postcards and began passing them out in the bar; the next thing I knew, people were coming out to say HI, Good Luck and to define Peace!

I realized that food had made only a brief appearance in my day, so we decided to go for Middle Eastern food next door. There were six of us dining together and I appreciated the communal feeling, as I grab a lot of meals alone on the road. I had eaten lunch earlier with four of them-Jocelyn, Tom, Mike and Alan. They took me out to Luiza’s by the Tracks, apparently a landmark restaurant in NOLA. Tom and Mike are great guys from Big Easy Scooters, the Genuine dealer in town. Although I didn’t need any service while in town, they were great about showing up and hanging out. It was because of Chelsea-of the Scoot Richmond fame, my heroine that Tom ultimately wound up in NOLA.

Dave, a Royal Bastard, was there at dinner and the conversation was exceptional. I was dining with some rather smart cookies. After dinner we went back to McCools, watched some of the playoffs on TV. Then Dave made sure I knew how to get to my new accomodations.

Talk about a small world. Last year my host Rebecca took me to a Soul Rebel show. While there, I interviewed two women, also travelers. After the interviews I had gone inside and wound up talking to a guy Johnny about my tatts, the trip and his goal to attend Burning Man. He bought me a beer, told me he wanted a vintage scoot and that was that. He left a good impression, as did his lady. One of the girls I interviewed that night made it into the P.E.A.C.E SCOOT trailer.

Scooter forums are great. Rich posted about my visit to town and a guy named Johnny said he had couch space available. And that he met me last year. So Dave led me over to Johnny’s and I spent the next 3 nights in a wonderful sanctuary. Johnny had since bought his vintage Vespa and had even hosted Matua, of Vespadition. To make the world even smaller, it turns out the girls I had interviewed at Soul Rebels were couchsurfing with him that year.

I woke up early Wednesday and headed over to The Green Project, where I would volunteer for 7 hours. Please, visit their website to learn more about a great organization and look to see if there is one in your community. I was happy to volunteer because NOLA needs help rebuilding. Volunteer work also allows me insight to help me decide the final two organizations whom I donate to at the end. The Green Project is absolutely astounding and is managed by amazing people.

TGP offers valuable resources to its community and our environment by keeping 45-70% of stuff out of landfills. They provide the drop off point for recycled paint, lumber, and building materials; re salvaging them to be placed somewhere else in the city. Their services are also especially valuable in helping preserve New Orleans architectural history. They compost and grow a garden on site. They thrive on volunteers, are brilliant at every level and I hope every town creates something like them. It is shameful what we waste, especially in comparison to what people around the world need. Not to mention our environmental crisis. Most towns have a Habitat for Humanity re-sell store, where you can get hardware in just as good of shape as Lowe’s.

The day went quickly, working in paint with Charlie. My volunteer photo set is here.

Charlie Brown had just quit the film industry, in order to save his soul and spare himself a breakdown from the grueling schedule. We talked all day long. I got to name the two batches of paint, one white, Peace and one brown, Leroy. Erin was a wonderful lady who stopped in to offer laughs and directions. She also commented, like many other places where I volunteer, that they need more volunteers. Go help out The Green Project-it’s a great place!

After a day in the shop, it was time for free music in Lafayette Park. I spent a bit of time there reveling in the crowd. In New Orleans, music is like church. People let the music move through their body and soul, the dancing is so joyous to watch. Thunderstorms were coming in so I went back to Johnny’s. I grabbed food at Whole Foods, thanks to them for donating me a gift card that helps maintain my health while on the road.

I stayed up late talking to Aaron, Johnny’s roomate, about the website he is developing. We discussed what it means to have a vision that you can’t ignore and the wonderment of following through with your passions at all costs. He is very consumed by starting this website, and I’m sorry I can’t put the link here because I’ve forgotten the URL. Then he asked how P.E.A.C.E Scoot got started and we talked a couple of more hours. He told me his definition of Peace could be best describes as grace before gluttony.

The next day was rather mundane. I spent hours trying to find spots to volunteer in the next states and places to stay. Then it was time to do some work. Fortunately I have the honor of working for a website that is just starting off, it is called thesecondroad.org. I offer rudimentary skills in beta-testing and diplomatic skills as a talent scout. It has really been an eye and heart opener to read the many blogs out there that chronicle people overcoming obstacles and recreating their life from the bottom up.

There has been a fair amount of work this past week, although I usually only do 5 hours at most. It gives me money for tacos, espresso and some petro. I figure the more I can earn money-the more will be left for donation at the end of the trip!

I spent Thursday evening at his house, a lovely home complete with two recently planted oak trees. Him and the lady fixed up a meal and we watched the Hornets lose to the San Antonio Spurs. It was very chill and I love to hear his philosophy about traveling.

One quote from Johnny Nomad is, “If I have learned one thing as a traveler, it would be that the world would be a better place if everyone took a little time out of their lives to explore the world around them.”

He’s on a quest for enlightenment adn trying to see the whole globe without ever taking an airplane. He has visited 7 continents and 70 countries! Johnny knows how to host a traveler because he’s done so much of it himself. In my brief time there felt like I was at home. I appreciate the trust and comfort he offered! I stayed in their sun room, it was beautiful. I went to sleep rather late Thursday night, only to wake up to a massive thunderstorm. Three thoughts went through my head.

Wow, this is beautiful. Yikes, I’m riding in the rain today. Damn, if I don’t move I’m gonna be bacon.

Long streaks of lightning were flashing in over me, so I moved out of the sunroom.

I woke up early to pack the scoot and meet the NOLA scooterists for a bon voyage breakfast. I was already soaked by the time I arrived. Although I wasn’t very awake for the meeting, it was a splendid time and I’m glad so many came out to say goodbye. Sadly Alan wasn’t there. Rich gave me a hand held tape recorder to do interviews with. This is helpful since I was recording with my ipod, which broke the day the trip started, making life kinda miserable on the long rides. The scrumptious breakfast at the notorious Lil Dizzies would hold me until 10pm that night.

The generosity and companionship made NOLA much more hospitable than any other time I’ve visited. Thanks Mike, Tom, Joceyln, Missy, Jan, Rich, Dave, Johnny, Aaron, The Green Project, Alan, and anyone I neglect to mention!

Rich being the amazing gentleman that he is, escorted me over to the West Bank via ferry. I was the only brave enough to show on scooter that day. Rich’s warehouse was on the way out to 90W so I spent a couple of hours there viewing his genious LED creations and listening to his stories. I stalled also hoping the rain would clear but finally had to push on.

New Orleans 08 was an incredible visit, thank you everybody!

Check out the photo set of NOLA here

Days 10-14, a second post-Katrina visit to New Orleans. Listening to the local stories.

Empathy and compassion are not the same thing. Empathy is a part of compassion, yes. But empathy, to identify with another person, is to imagine life in their shoes. Listening helps cultivate empathy. This is not a long blog, not a cheerful one either. Yet, every time I visit New Orleans, post-Katrina, I want to hear the stories, I want to know what my fellow Americans experienced. Down there it was another world and while it might be uncomfortable to listen, it is necessary for us to understand what happened and what darkness in humans made them attack one another or wait so long before sending in help. And to appreciate the light in the many humans who did stay, offered help, provided safety and continue to do so.

Imagine what it’s like to be attacked by your neighbor, someone you’ve come to trust through the years; now suddenly knifing you over your TV and small valuables.

Imagine working in a hospital with no security and angry crackhead zombies begin attacking for the narcotics.

Imagine owning a video log of the police breaking into your store’s safe and stealing 1,000’s of your cash savings-nothing done about it.

Imagine realizing all the animals in the local aquarium are dying-sharks, dolphins, fish-slowly starving to death.

Imagine returning to your home, and even if it escaped damage, the city you call home resembles nothing close to the home you once knew.

Imagine using a post-it note, placing it up on a wall, as the only way to find your lost relative.

Imagine knowing that millions of people are literally donating millions of supplies to your city but there is such shoddy emergency planning in place that tractor trailers of supplies literally go to waste.

Imagine the stench of sewage, mold and carcass permeating your city.

Imagine the rapes taking place, murders and general mayhem that places your life in danger. Not a good time to be a unarmed loner.

Imagine that the reconstruction of your destroyed city invites crooked, swindling construction workers.

Imagine that your city looses 60% of its population overnight.

Imagine the hazardous waste content that also flooded the city and still saturates the wood in many home foundations.

A dark tumor of greed was revealed back in 2005, during and after Hurricane Katrina. As one of my hosts Rich put it, excluding those too poor to find an exit, many stayed for the opportunity to pillage what would be a fairly evacuated city. Selfish Opportunists, not humanists.

Life in the Big Easy was completely altered. I suppose it is not easy to look into that dark tumor of greed; to experience it’s permeating consequences. To know levees were structurally compromised for cost and at many costs. I suppose it’s not easy to witness death, murder, rape, chaos, starvation, destruction; to literally fight for your life. This event arguably surpassed 9/11 and devastated more landscape. It’s scope not only altered the landscape, but the psyche of thousands. What bothers me is that 9/11 seems to affects us more at large, as a nation. This visit to New Orleans, I was granted insight through hours and hours of stories and perspectives.

Now what is still so enchanting about NOLA is it’s fierce spirit of survival and revival. It’s heartbeat is still vibrant and swells as always with music, food, laughter and culture.

Everyone in our nation felt like survivors after 9/11, as it was a terrorist attack upon our national identity. To share an identity is a powerful thing. This is often lost in America, a land where many cultures exist, but what binds us mostly are our consumer tendencies. What does it even mean to be American? There is now also a culture in NOLA that binds everyone together as survivors.

It is not easy to talk about Peace in NOLA. If thought of merely as the absence of war or violence, Peace seems far from present in NOLA. It sounds like a war zone when I hear stories.
After all, what is it in a human’s soul that makes them slash their neighbors face for a TV? How does this breakdown occur? When in the absence of law and faced with natural disaster, a minority of humans can’t come together, but instead resort to violence. Not just poor people, but police, the very people who we rely on to protect us. And there in the middle of travesty, the police acted no better, thinking for themselves and how to manipulate their power. What is it that makes us act like bandits?

I like to think of Peace as a governing ideology that is present when creating strategies to help acquire our needs. An ideology that isn’t selfish but community oriented.
You know, as simple as not pulling guns and knifes on one another when the shit goes down. It’s just horrible to think how we spend money overseas to restore what we call civility/democracy and meanwhile down in the swamps, there was a full on show of crumbling civility.

This ideology was lacking in NOLA because it is lacking domestically, internationally and globally. In keeping with Ghandi’s idea that Peace comes from within, then most humans are lacking it. It is the urge to HAVE, mostly things that aren’t NEEDED which separates us from sharing the resources of what we NEED. It’s not our NEEDS dividing us in most cases, it’s all the crap that means nothing.

If law disappeared from our country today, it would be bandit country, everywhere. Hurricane Katrina was a lesson. If we were this neanderthal in 2005, the need to define Peace/Justice and give it precedence is all the more important. When, how, where do we start to re-examine our hearts, our infrastructure, our strategies?

But, as I was also told, people stepped forward to help in any way that they could. What do we focus on? Who killed, murdered, raped and looted? Who stayed to distribute supplies and offer medical attention? Who came from other countries and states to help? Which politicians are to blame for lack of response and leadership?

To be displaced is something millions of people around our globe experience. New Orleanians now share something with other survivors in the world, that most of us can barely begin to understand. Identifying that tragedy can strike all races and classes might hopefully create compassion.

Suffering through a tragedy also unites survivors, people who perhaps would never speak or seemingly relate. NOLA is rebuilding and we can help support this, in many ways; financially, volunteering, visiting and questioning. Questioning how to better ourselves and create Peaceful strategies to acquire our needs. I would rather us make history by creating Peace, than become history in its absence.

I neglected to write most of this last year. All things now said, PART TWO NOLA is a focus on my hosts and other experiences.
Thank you for reading.

NOW IMAGINE PEACE

I rarely discuss what I am experiencing personally when things are tough; when I’m scared; when I almost pass out from dehydration; when I receive mean comments about Peace. In the 11 months this blog has been up I certainly haven’t discussed what I’m getting ready to discuss. Ladies, it’s for you, but truly, it is men who need to read it–proceed with open mind.

I hear this comment a lot, “Well, I was thinking, if she can do it, so can I.” One hundred percent of said comments come from men. And so I think, yes, yes, YOU CAN. You always could. But could you do it in a woman’s body?  I don’t offer some of my personal impressions (which from this moment on, is going to change) because I don’t want anyone to minimize my personal experiences because of my sex. Some of them I don’t offer because I don’t want to dwell on the negative.

Perhaps this custom comes from one specific thing we don’t talk about. And once in a blue moon, it affects most of my day.

Fellas, could you do a ride like this in my body?
Last year my cycle changed as soon as I started riding. And I’m not talking about my four-stroke cycle here; I’m talking about my “moon cycle”.  At one point, I bled for 19 days in a row. After that I would start and stop again without warning for most of the whole trip.

That means I lost iron, had cramps, and spent how ever much money I didn’t have on tampons. Imagine what it feels like to sit for 10 hours, on a vibrating machine, with 10 inch wheel offering little buffer from all the bumps in the road;  meanwhile your stomach feels like it’s been punched repeatedly by an angry monkey.

Now, I view this world as equal opportunity, no reason it shouldn’t be. Any differences in our body are just that, differences. Not better or worse. But if you gave a man and a woman each $10 to survive for a month, automatically, the playing field is uneven. Unless the woman has gone through menopause, because we have to purchase our supplies. And men do not.

Another comment I hear often, from men and women, is, “Wow, she has balls.”
I have ovaries, thank you. They are the female equivalent of balls, I suppose. Ovaries do help develop a lot of the strength that women have.
We bear children; an average of eight hours of pain racking our bodies after nine months of hosting a tenant in our stomach. Let’s do some math. Average cycle is five days, 12 months in the year;  which equals 60 days we experience something men don’t. I might add, a very unpleasant sensation.

Two months of our year is spent wondering if we just ruined another pair of pants, going to the bathroom when we don’t have to pee, putting our intimacy on hold (and yours).

Let’s say on average, we have two miserable day and the others not so bad. On average each lady has this cycle for 30 years. So, two times a month, for a year, multiplied by 30 years equals 720 days of heavy pain and discomfort. Days where you want nothing more than to be massaged by God himself.  Instead we learn to cope and go through everyday activities as though all is GREAT. We go out there and do the same stuff men are doing, and try to smile. Talk about going with the flow.

So why am I talking about this anyway? I figure it’s high time to share this perspective. Just to shed light on what is often a tight lipped subject. One, because when I was going through the ride last year, I couldn’t find any information about how a woman’s cycle might react to a long distance ride. Second of all, well, it just shouldn’t seem so shocking every time a woman accomplishes a great feat. Of course we are strong enough.

So to every person who hears a man comment, “If SHE can do it, so can I” and “Not bad, FOR A WOMAN,”  I say find your voice and challenge that statement.

The other day I speculated about such statements, and thought, if I’m considered the lowest common denominator, wouldn’t that make my accomplishments twice as noteworthy ? If it would be so effortless for a man to make this ride in comparison, does that mean my miles driven are worth twice as much? Perhaps I should say it’s a 40,000 mile Peace sign?

Moving right along…how about those gas prices? Talk about a pain we all share!

It is Day 16 and so much has already happened. I’ll admit, catching up on the blogposts is difficult right now. I’m sore, fighting off a migraine and frankly, just tuckered out. Last year, due to lack of planning, I stayed in many cheap motels. This made writing easier. This year I have been welcomed by the community (at large) and so my nights are very different, with less time to write.

My average miles have been 1,000 miles a week. This puts me right on “schedule,” if not ahead. The conversations and interludes can’t be so easily measured.

I give thanks to see so much of the American perspective- to meet the dreamers, hustlers, artists, clowns, down and outs, stewards, Cajuns, travelers, hosts, philosophers, Brits, skeptics, teachers and students. All part of the human tribe, all giving this story more depth and adventure.

Yesterday, I met an amazing group of people and contributed to an amazing program, through Friend Ships. I was greeted at Port Mercy by Ann, who lives aboard the ship with her husband and sons. Her husband Jeff questioned me in depth as to the nature of my mission. It is hard to explain the level of truth that happened in our exchange, but I feel like I learned more about what I am doing by just being in his presence. It makes such a difference when people listen intently without judgement. I strive to be more like this.

The level of faith that they live by was astounding to witness. They are very Christian. More so than anyone I have ever met and it was humbling. A few years ago I might have been intimidated. I have visited ashrams and stayed with devotees though, and while their God might be called by a different name, God was still frequently addressed. With Amma devotees, Amma would come up, sometimes ridiculously, like, “Maybe Amma wants us to be lost on this road to help us learn something.” My response in said situation was something like, “yea, to learn how to use a map.”

My conversations with Jeff, Ann and others present made me understand more about navigating common ground. They had respect that I am a woman of faith, whether or not I attribute my faith to one God. In the end, I respect that as humans we are interconnected and our actions affect one another. If you treat yourself well, and keep your heart and mind open- you will treat others well and be receptive to them. No God needs to be named in that. But if an individual does great things and chooses to view through a religious lens, who am I to judge?

Quite honestly, referring to “Him,” in every other sentence is not something I do, or shall ever do. If only for the question, “Why not “Her”? Such a great spirit has no gender, truly. I was asked if my mission was carried out in the Lords name and I said, “My mission is in service, in truth that any Lord would respect.”

That all said, I had the most wonderful day, with wonderful people, doing volunteer work for an organization that accomplishes some of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen. And God gave it all to them. This was the answer to all my questions. God provides. And surely, their 18 acres was full of medical supplies, clothes, vinyl, forklifts, ships, medical trailers, wire, you name it. 500 gallons of oil to fuel the ship on its mission overseas-donated. They spend NO money on fundraising. It is ALL donated. The scale at which this organization operates made my head spin. There are few paid employees, mostly volunteers. They receive food donations from local shops. Little money spent and big things accomplished. I’ve NEVER seen anything like Friend Ships.

The funniest moment of the day came as Lilly was signing the scoot and the sun came out from the clouds. I said, “Look, here comes the sun.” And she says, “where is he?” as though I meant a son-THE son, maybe? I bit my tongue.

They asked me to join hands for prayer and spoke the most beautiful blessing for P.E.A.C.E Scoot. My day ended at 4 and I headed to Beaumont, TX. My wonderful host from the night before suggested a more scenic route. I am so glad I trusted her.

The route led me South, through the Creole Nature Trail. Then West, over a ferry and then across Pleasure Island, riding along the Gulf of Mexico. The water was brilliant blue and brown, as the Mississippi River dumps into the Gulf right there. I headed North into Beaumont arriving at 9pm. It was one of the neatest rides I have made yet in my almost 14,000 miles!

And the climax? I saw a wild gator. I FINALLY SAW A GATOR IN THE WILD. For this, I have waited years, riding through bayous with bated breath, scanning every ripple. And then, yesterday, the long reptilian gator, floating downstream. I almost wrecked, circled around and pulled right in front of the NO Parking sign to snap a photo. Here it is:

I will update about NOLA next. The same thing happened this year as last, I placed myself fully in the moment and then I had to tear myself away from the magic. I have many things to tell you about NOLA though, when I’m not typing and squinting through one eye.

I left the Crescent City rather late yesterday, around 2pm. My conversations with Rich were worth lingering, and this is what a great adventure is all about, getting to know the people you meet, for however little time you have. There was a bon voyage breakfast at Lil Dizzie’s, and while I might not have been very awake for the experience, it was nice for people to show up and sign the scoot. The delicious grub held me until 1o pm, now that’s a proper Southern breakfast.

The ride was 250 miles, I arrived at 9pm. Pulling out from Rich’s warehouse I was stalled 20 minutes by the lifting of a drawbridge. Then I pushed on through pouring rain until 100 miles out. There were thick storm clouds on the horizon, but I finally pulled out ahead of them.

My friend Jodie grew up in the parts where I was riding yesterday and these are her words about the landscape

“90 goes through jennings as well, there’s not much there, just a ride through the town and a listen at the accent would be experience enough. off of I-10 you’ll be on the better roads to see the true beauty that is louisiana. all of the green crawfish/sugarcane/rice fields–everything is so flat and tree lined with white egret’s and blue-grey heron. my goodness, the sun as it sets and you seem to be driving into it.. it’s so low and red-orange and rotund. i love louisiana country side. i love louisiana country….so serene, simple, you feel like you are years back in time…. the roads you’ll be on are the roads i take -even in a car- when i drive home from nola.”

My experience was true to her word. I stopped and made several photographs of herons along the highway. Once I reached the rice fields, the sun’s vanishing light made a magical setting. The pinks and oranges reflected in the pools of standing water. The water was breeding ground for bugs, and riding at dusk brough out many. It was like riding through a rain storm-of bugs.

My hosts for the night are incredible. I want to share this story with you so you can see exactly how small the world is. On Thursday, I contacted a nonprofit in Lake Charles and secured a volunteer opportunity. As soon as I’m done typing this, I will be loading up a ship with supplies for islands in the Caribbean, devastated by hurricanes.

A lady called me later that day, from the organization, and offered me housing. When I arrived they greeted me warmly and took me for some local eating-which I can’t do enough of here in LA. They’ve been so thoughtful about everything and we’ve had a lot to talk about.

So, last year in Seattle, I needed a ticket to the Bumbershoot festival. I put out a request on my website and Ralph contacted me with a ticket. WHile at the festival, I was given an Ice Cream Man sticker. A week later in Portland, OR, I drive past a coffeeshop and actually see the Ice Cream Man’s Icecream truck. What are the odds? We met and exchanged stories. He stays in touch with me and had sent me a link about Hitch50. Two friends hitchhiked 50 capitals in 50 days. Well, it turns out that my contact here, her boyfriend, whose house where we are staying, actually picked those guys up. He picked them up in NOLA, drove them here, and then onto Houston.

WHAT A SMALL WORLD! Isn’t that crazy?

The interconnectivity between us is more powerful than we might know. Just yesterday I was thinking that I hope this trip inspires people to realize that our actions greatly affect one another. And that having a personal peace, working within your community and taking care of the environment are fundamental steps to co-creating a better world.

Thanks for being such great hosts,Russell and Ashley!

Thank you for all the support, the trip is now two weeks old and it is an amazing experience.

I’ve entered the Bible Belt of America, where an abundance of churches dot the landscape and redemption lurks everywhere. Right now I’m writing from Jackson, MS, and God help us, they need better roads. I feel like I’m riding motocross with all the cracks and pot holes. It’s good preparation for New Orleans, where the roads were in bad shape long before Katrina. I did see the coolest thing today though-motorcycle/scooter parking. I want to see more of this-everywhere!

Continue reading “Jackson, MS”

Lucky Day number 7

A HUGE Thank you to Magic City Scooters and all those incredibly fun scooterists! Even the car (cage) driving civilians I met were wonderful. Friday was my seventh day on the road and I had a lot of plans. Thursday had been a calm night visiting with my Aunt after a fast paced ride into town; fortunately avoiding the storms which have been ravaging the South East.

Birmingham Community Kitchens had replied, quickly, to my volunteer inquiry. Since 1980 their doors have been open; providing a much needed service to those who are hungry by serving over 112,000 meals annually at our two locations. These meals help nourish the body and spirit of those in need. I was fortunate to help out two great guys who run the Woodlawn area kitchen. PLEASE watch the video at the end to see how wonderful these guys are and how they define Peace.

I set out from my Aunt’s beautiful neighborhood with plenty of time, fortunately, because the directions were shabby. The city’s grid made sense to me and about 10 extra miles later, I arrived – just before serving time.

There were a lot of strange looks cast my way and the first couple of people I talked to didn’t seem to believe, that YES, I was there to work. Finally, they put in touch with James, the chef, who I call Papa James. He gave me a photo of him and his wife to carry with me. Very touching.

Scott, his co-worker was actually the first of two Michigan transplants that I would meet that day. Which reminded me of PJ Chmiel, who recently told me he would consider a move to BHAM. At that time, I emphatically discouraged him, based on my memories of BHAM as a youth. However, I even tossed the idea around in my mind while visiting!

It was nice to be back in my hometown-really just my birthplace. When I was three we moved away, but I came back to visit every summer until I turned 18. A lot of firsts happened in this town; mostly coming of age things we all experience. I also rode my first scooter there; I plowed it right into my friend who lived across the street, dislocating her wrist. Know where the brakes are people, very important.

I’ve never really explored BHAM, scooting around I discovered an industrial city trying to revive itself. Matthew, who owns Magic City scooter shop, greeted me very warmly. He gave me a Buddy to ride to go get some coffee, while generously giving mine an oil change. Him and his side kick Will are easy to spend time with; we jived a lot and had fun. Very genuine people.

It’s hard to believe Matthew’s shop has only been open 5 months. It’s perfect; the logo, storefront, stock, memorabilia, knowledge, attitude, and its customers. It’s easy to tell that Matthew knows a lot about his trade and he’s ready for BHAM’s revival. I was impressed that he wears so many hats, and is both an excellent host and mechanic. What more can you expect from a man with a banjo on his knee? There is a little video coming eventually, of his shop, patience, patience.

Magic City Scooters was hosting Game Show Night, which generally rotates venues. It was a hoot, shall we say, but really fun because of the people who attended it. It’s a night based loosely on old school game shows and everyone is a contestant. There was a mix of Game Show Night die hards and scooterists who happened to be around and were roped into playing. I had acquired quite a lot of prize beads, but had to leave early. My Aunt had told me to be in early and I was having a curfew crisis-at 33.

Walter, a very cool, clever man, looked at my directions home and said he knew a more scenic route, so I followed him through the city, up near the Vulcan Monument. The view provided a panorama of BHAM’s city lights. It was such a perfect view and the smell of honeysuckle was heavy in the air. I almost ran into oncoming traffic turning my neck around to see it all. The day was long but perfect, a fresh, new look at Birmingham. Thanks to all the interesting folks!

Matthew busted my chops for not staying with him and his girlfriend (wife?) but I had not known there was an invitation. I wasn’t ready to head back home, but had too.Sadly I couldn’t visit him the next morning for coffee and a city ride, as we had discussed. I hpe we stay in touch though. There have been horrendous storms and tornadoes here in the South, bad enough to take many lives. This means my departure comes earlier than usual each morning-storms usually happen late in the afternoon in the South.

My Aunt, the classic Southern lady, could have kept me chatting for hours. I was headed to Jackson, MS to see my father, on Mother’s Day. Sadly, I missed Matua by 24 hours, actually talking to him on the phone when he was here. He was rushing past Jackson, as seems to be his pace. It was frustrating, but I can understand not wanting to stick around here too long. More on that coming up.

Video interview with Scott and James, who work at Birmingham Community Kitchens.

*of course you want to know why it’s called Magic City, I did too*
It’s named after Birmingham, England. It was established just after the Civil War and experienced a growth boom from travelers heading South to New Orleans. It was rich in industry for many decades, causing a lot of pollution. Often it was called the Pittsburgh of the South, with its heavy emphasis on iron and steel. Magic City is a name given to other cities that went through the rapid growing pains-Cheyenne, WY and Miami FL for example.

6 am. 7 am. 8am….GO.

It was a restless night. Thursday morning came early; anxious to beat the forecasted heavy rains, tornadoes, and hail. All of which are classic Southern afternoon delights, in May, especially.

I shuffled over to Java Lords for guess what and chugged a strong red eye while packing the scooter and talking to my host Kyle. The weather was warm but grey as I pulled out of Five Points and headed to Birmingham, about 6 hours away.

I appreciated the beauty of the early morning ride through Georgia countryside and the sun burning off the puffy cloud cover. Throughout the day I saw many signs worth turning around to photograph. Over breakfast, about an hour outside of ATL, I chatted with some locals-about scooters mostly. The open road provokes contemplation, even more so for me since theiPod broke, the day before the trip nonetheless.

The last minute decision to visit ATL had turned out really well. I was able to meet Alice Walker, couch surf for the first time and hang out with the local scooterists-as well as meet many enjoyable local randoms.

I can’t vouch for my hosts enough. Obviously, I’m the adventurous type, I enjoy meeting new people and trying new things. Many times, a blind faith has urged me to believe that the world is not teeming with people out to hurt you. Instead I have found a world with people willing to help with food, rides, lodging and advice. Couchsurfing.com is a great community, connecting travelers world wide. If you expect 4star lodging, don’t join. If you expect to be pampered, don’t join. If you want to meet the locals, stay somewhere for free, and are respectful, then join- it’s a blessing.

Each person who agrees to be a host has a profile. Kyle and Martha’s profile suggested a Thursday-Sunday visit, but still they opened the doors of their fabulous house. I am not picky about lodging-happy to have what you can offer. I had not expected such a fantastic house with so many toys. Their taste was immaculate, all except the freaky horse that kept me awake. I finally put a pillow over it because I couldn’t handle it staring down at me. Sadly, they had bustling schedules that kept us from hanging out. They are really intriguing, I hope we stay in touch.

Wednesday I walked around their neighborhood, ATL’s Little Five Points, an area bustling with diversity at all times of the day. I listened to local hip-hop artists freestyling, checked out graffiti, chatted about non-violence at the Blue Crystal, was given a peace hat, toured the local co-op, ran into someone I filmed last year and handed out some postcards. Inside the Junkman’s Daughter, I came close to buying a Mr. T bobblehead and foolishly held out. Outside there I met Barb, who rides a stylish pink scooter.

She told me about the scooter meet-up at the Thinking Man’s At the Junkman’s Daughter Tavern and invited me to meet her back at the shop at 7:15, to escort me over. I was 5 minutes late and she had already left, but I found my way over to the tavern. It’s located in Decatur, more of an ATL burb. I was a little nervous walking in not knowing anyone- but introductions and chatter came easily with this crew. People kindly bought me drinks and began asking questions, telling their own stories too.

I finally met my match-Bridget is the only person I know with the same Corazzo jacket. She was really kind, offering me contacts along the way and said to call if I need anything. That’s reassuring. The night flew past as I joked around with the interesting group of people. A lot of people asked questions about the trip and were very encouraging. Thanks to everyone for the drinks. It was also nice to check out all the rides.

The only low point was when one guy made a crack that by next week I will be a corporation-referring to the amount of outreach I have done-emails, tshirts, raffles, fundraising. I was actually pretty disappointed, more than I should be I guess. He didn’t seem to understand the hours that have gone into contacting people, utilizing resources, or that I only get joy from this-there is no money in it for me-and none to start with. In fact, I took out a loan last year to purchase the protective gear and camera I would need and for emergency funds. If anything I OWE money. The fundraising, raffles and tshirt sales are in place to raise money for donations to charitable organizations.

Other than that one comment-I really enjoyed the night and was glad for the chance meeting that had led me there.

My two nights in ATL were action packed.

The smell of magnolias and honey suckle were still powerfully fragrant as I crossed the state line into Alabama. I’ve been very lucky so far that the storms hit when I stop riding-as opposed to last year, when they followed me around. I stopped to call and let my Aunt know I was in town-just as the tornado sirens went off. I made it safely to her house with nary a raindrop falling on me. We watched the news and saw a funnel cloud just 20 miles away. Pretty crazy. After a powernap I walked around and took photos of the rain soaked property. Then she treated me to dinner, and bombarded me with questions.

Fortunately, no criticisms. Visiting family can be hard. Often we hope our family will be the ones to support whatever we do. After all, they have seen us grow from crawling around in diapers to thinking adults. It was rather intense, though. “Why are you doing this?” “Why would anyone care?” “What would make me donate to this?” And so I asked, “Have you been to the website?” Sadly, that was a no. After a couple of days though, she seemed much more supportive. She became interested in the travels and finally tonight said that I have a good looking scooter. I showed her the website and explained everything. Watching me work on the website and even pack up the scoot seemed to help her understand that I’m not just on a ‘joyride.’ It was strange to feel all the support from people I do not know while having to prove something to my family. The family visits will continue though, I will visit my Dad in Jackson, MS.

To be continued…the discovery of Magic City Scooters…..volunteering for Birmingham Community Kitchens.

I’m a smiley, beaming lass right now, just had confirmation that P.E.A.C.E SCOOT t-shirts are available for purchase, by clicking HERE.

Scooterworks has made yet another kind gesture to P.E.A.C.E, to sell shirts through their online store and donate $5 of each sale to the P.E.A.C.E fund, which raises money for travel and donation to non-profits! This is a much better arrangement than using that crappy ol cafe press website, because it sets the price too high.

Your purchase fuels my tank and the budget for non-profits working hard to help improve our quality of life. These groups provide valuable education and energy to clean up/avoid social messes!

All the goodness doesn’t stop with the design and the proceeds, the shirts are American Apparel, a sweatshop free labor company that pays fair, working wage.

Don’t bother flipping a quarter, go ahead and make the worthwhile investment, they are a limited batch and HOT OFF THE PRESS.

Many thanks in advance! I’m a little jealous of the model in the photos, I don’t even have one yet, but they are on the way to Birmingham, AL, where I will be Thursday and Friday.