How did you end up on the road, and why are you still here?

[shadowmoss]

https://www.nps.gov/natr/planyourvisit/camping.htm
This is a free campground on the Natchez Trace parkway South of Nashville. I've stayed there. Nice area and the parkway is a nice drive. May not work for your route, but the memory of it jumped out to me while reading your post.

 

[wb8vyn]

thank you for the invite, ken (come; join us, not too close but close enough to not be lonely)! i shall take you up on it at some point in the future. at the moment, i have (after years of caregiving assistance to family members) moved from the pacific northwest to central florida for more warmth and sunshine. i've been completely surprised by the cold winter weather here (this morning, 29 degrees). my current plan is to stay in sticks-n-bricks for a year while preparing to go out on the road. i came out of retirement and secured a job, which i have been at for 2 weeks. i plan on stashing the pay into savings to build up an emergency fund, paying off a 2006 prius i recently bought, slowly purchasing the supplies i will need to camp in the car, and last but not least, getting out-n-about enjoying the florida natural landscape (as i've never been to florida before this move).
ps: my account name is an acronym for my nickname. "2tu" is tutu (the hawaiian word for elder and grandparent) and "808" is the area code for hawaii.....
~tutu

There you are. It sounds like a plan to me. tutu, I like that. Hawaii. been there long ago on my way to every where else. Thoughts running through me head so fast they are bumping into each other. Now my son showed with "the dog". He is raiding my fridge, and "the dog" is eating an onion. Will it never end. Life is good.
Ken

 

[wb8vyn]

https://www.nps.gov/natr/planyourvisit/camping.htm
This is a free campground on the Natchez Trace parkway South of Nashville. I've stayed there. Nice area and the parkway is a nice drive. May not work for your route, but the memory of it jumped out to me while reading your post.

Been by many time but never traveled that way with a commercial vehicle. wonder if my camper might be too high. have to measure and check.
Ken

 

[wb8vyn]

I get your point. A skill that is difficult to learn, maybe by the time it takes alone, is worth something. If it's given away for free it might just be treated as worthless based on the personality and the goals of those that say they want it. You would be right to. That much has already been proven. The world that prides itself on finding the "Holy Grail" of casinos games has already had its first shot at this. 95% have rejected it without having any idea what it is. They think they know what it is, and that's enough to reject it. But 5% have gone on to learn the skills. I feel sorry for you that someone you know turned down your offer to teach him a much in demand trade. Something that could have served him his whole life. You can't make people do what's best for them. If they can't see it I'm not sure there is a way to make them see it. The skill I wish to give away for free takes hundreds if not thousands of hours of practice and a full understanding. It may end up taking a certain type of ability to concentrate and a capacity to be self aware. There is no quick and easy path. Never the less I want to see if I can teach people that are mobile, have free time to learn and practice, and are willing to find out if they have what it takes. That's incredibly sad what happened to you.

My experience comes long before yours. Before Howard Hughes, When Teamsters money flowed freely and big city "investors" skimmed their share....Trying to scheme the system found you in a hole in desert never to be heard or seen again.
These are very real events. The old time "investors" did get old and cashed out to the Hughes group, and then on to corporate money and bean counters.
Modern "investors" will now be found on Wall Street. More recently still, Silicon Valley. It's still a gamble.
My advice to you is, Go take advantage of your learned skill, be a "winner". You will collect some hangers on, but do it quietly. Collecting a group will attract unwanted attention. This you do not need. Anything offered "free" sets off alarms in most peoples minds. But:
As PT Barnum once said "There's a sucker born every minute".

 

[gizmotron]

I w

My advice to you is, Go take advantage of your learned skill, be a "winner". You will collect some hangers on, but do it quietly. Collecting a group will attract unwanted attention. This you do not need. Anything offered "free" sets off alarms in most peoples minds. But:
As PT Barnum once said "There's a sucker born every minute".

I was a Teamster back in the early 70's in the Carpenter's Union. I know what a full day's work is worth in wages. I have a small group that knows everything that I have to share from all over the world. They learned this by first being told and then practicing on their own. In other words they have earned it the hard way. These are people that already know how to play before learning what I openly and freely shared. Nomads are people that don't have any experience and would never dip their toes into deep water. But they have one thing going for them. They are trying to build community and help others along the way. What happens in the winter in the southwest, where it is typically warm enough to use the swimming pools, is fun to say the least. I've been doing it off and on for more than 25 years. People that say no and have their excuse for saying no don't concern me. I will never reach them. But I have already changed the world. I have presented people with the ability to completely undo all that is believed to be the truth and about statistical distribution in all games of chance. This also includes beliefs with regards to statistical analysis in just about all research experiments where statistics are compared to control groups. Giving this to the nomads with personal face to face instructions is just doing a small handful a people a chance to make a few bucks before everything is known by all. I've been dealing with nay say, critics, math experts, addiction experts, and anyone with two cents that feels a need to protect a suspecting public. People that want to learn tend to have an open mind. If you want to tell them that they are suckers born every minute then go ahead. This is not the first time I have shared this or personally taught others. I know what happens to them once they see it. It becomes theirs. I'm out of the picture after that. They go where they want and share it with anyone that they might want to. It becomes theirs. It's nothing more than a skill.

 

[2tu808]

My story is 180 degrees from yours. I worked as a long haul truck driver all of my working life, so travel was what I did. Married and lived happily with a plan to retire when i got old. The company that i spent the last 19 years with were good to me but in the end I was given a choice of going to an office, pushing paper or retiring at age 79.
So I retired!
Soon after my wife of 57 years had a stroke and died. Plans were underway for her and I to travel. We had all the stuff needed, plenty of money and an open ended plan of travel.
Well after sitting in my chair for over a year waiting to die myself. A neighbor found me sitting on the porch, not moving for two days, called 911. Off to the ER I was taken. I was examined and sent to a shrink. After being pocked full of holes and fed IV's for a while, I found out that I had given up on eating. Only weighed 119 pounds, now up to 130 and gaining steadily. After the shrink suggested that it would be good if I did the plan that my wife and I had cooked up about nomad travel and share the adventure with her in a journal. Here I am. I still have the knot in my stomach but life goes on and on and on.
Since i am 83 years old now, finding some one to share this adventure with is not going to happen. Most women I meet who know how to cook are stuck on their dogs and cats, think I am crazy for moving around as I do, Eating hot dogs and fruit loops. They seem to think kale is a gift from heaven. I find contentment in a sun rise, I do not desire to run after it. I like to watch youngsters run and dig holes with a stick or find a bug to torment. I like to watch fish swim in cool creeks. I like quiet times with no one around so i can talk to myself and my wife with out some one judging me as off my rocker old kook. Ya, i know, Linda (my wife) just told me to shush, what will the neighbors think. Time to go build something. (or not)
Ken

Dear @wb8vyn~

I have been reading through and thinking about the various posts you've written . How wonderful to have shared 57 years with the one you love. What a gift of a lifetime! And, what an adventure that journey appears to have been.

I wish to extend my sympathy in your sadness and sorrow. Death is definitely a hard change to undergo, for both you and for your wife in losing her life. In my experience, it is not unlike being smacked by a Mack. I can only try to understand what you are working through over the loss, having not had a spouse pass myself. The closest I can come to identifying with your loss is the memory of what my family and I went through when my young sister's life was taken by a murderer. And, I definitely cannot know what your wife went through in the dying process nor whether she is still wondering where you and she disappeared to.

Writing was a catharsis for me during a time when the inequities of this lifetime seemed too large for me to bear. I started University when I was 42 years of age (single parenthood kept me busy before then). I enrolled in a class on autobiographical writing and wow, did that course help me change my life! I wrote (or rather, spewed out on paper) the stories of all the terror and violence that occurred in my life and I also wrote of the funny and loving events in my life. For me, it was time to get all that I had "stuffed" for who-knows-how-many-years out of my body and onto tangible paper. I wrote of situations I remembered and of things I had forgotten about or hidden. Once the course was through I had an autobiography. Throughout the remainder of my years at University my writing Professor encouraged me to have the book published and even offered to help with the process. Nope, I didn't publish it. I carried that autobiography around with me for a several years and then one day decided instead to have a release ceremony. I built a fire and when it was good and hot, I burned the autobiography and watched the identity I had invested in the stories go up in smoke and then disappear into the earth's atmosphere. What a liberating act that was for me! That ceremony did not erase all of those events nor the people involved in them. What it did do was assist in the release of my dogged attachment to them and the healing that came with it. In that moment in time, I experienced a new and unexpected kind of freedom.

Just something I thought I'd share…..
With kind regards,

~tutu

 

[wb8vyn]

Dear @wb8vyn~

I have been reading through and thinking about the various posts you've written . How wonderful to have shared 57 years with the one you love. What a gift of a lifetime! And, what an adventure that journey appears to have been.

I wish to extend my sympathy in your sadness and sorrow. Death is definitely a hard change to undergo, for both you and for your wife in losing her life. In my experience, it is not unlike being smacked by a Mack. I can only try to understand what you are working through over the loss, having not had a spouse pass myself. The closest I can come to identifying with your loss is the memory of what my family and I went through when my young sister's life was taken by a murderer. And, I definitely cannot know what your wife went through in the dying process nor whether she is still wondering where you and she disappeared to.

Writing was a catharsis for me during a time when the inequities of this lifetime seemed too large for me to bear. I started University when I was 42 years of age (single parenthood kept me busy before then). I enrolled in a class on autobiographical writing and wow, did that course help me change my life! I wrote (or rather, spewed out on paper) the stories of all the terror and violence that occurred in my life and I also wrote of the funny and loving events in my life. For me, it was time to get all that I had "stuffed" for who-knows-how-many-years out of my body and onto tangible paper. I wrote of situations I remembered and of things I had forgotten about or hidden. Once the course was through I had an autobiography. Throughout the remainder of my years at University my writing Professor encouraged me to have the book published and even offered to help with the process. Nope, I didn't publish it. I carried that autobiography around with me for a several years and then one day decided instead to have a release ceremony. I built a fire and when it was good and hot, I burned the autobiography and watched the identity I had invested in the stories go up in smoke and then disappear into the earth's atmosphere. What a liberating act that was for me! That ceremony did not erase all of those events nor the people involved in them. What it did do was assist in the release of my dogged attachment to them and the healing that came with it. In that moment in time, I experienced a new and unexpected kind of freedom.

Just something I thought I'd share…..
With kind regards,

~tutu Writing here (typing) is my voice. For the longest time I was unable to speak words. I had a big knot in my throat. Still find it hard. Knot at the pit of my stomach constant.

-Tutu. salutations
MY home reminds me every day of some small thing we did or said or felt together.
I've not been inside since Linda died, I've tried to go in but tears come at the door, even the door has memories.
Unlike you, burning it down is beyond me. I could but I just can't.
I have been living in our camper since she died, and even this has memories that wake me in the night. Waking up trying to catch her as she falls but I wake running as fast as I can but not fast enough. I missed and have to live with my failure.
So, it's the thirty oneth of January and I'm still breathing. I've got to get through February and March before I begin to move. Tough sledding. My mind is a terrible thing.
When you recounted your sisters death, My ache felt your agony, for although I know in my conscious mind that those things can not be shared, too personal, only for you alone, private. Tears can not be described or explained. They just are.
Well, enough -- onward.
I got my hands slapped today. I read a ladies lament about feeling alone and helpless with out the abilities of a man around to do the heavy lifting and fixing things. So I responded saying that there are plenty of Husbands and other men that were ready and willing to fill the gap. They are called neighbors. Nomads can be neighbors too. So she could get the heavy lifting done and things fixed. She gets what she needs and the man goes on his way feeling all puffed up and manly, Ego nourished. That's a win win from my perspective.. ---- But NO, Not on the internet. Only women can talk to women about things that men do well.
I think this world is lost. If that's the case. Then I'd find a hole, crawl into it and then pull it in after me.
This afternoon I've begun planning each practical move I will begin, Practical things I'm going to need. Testing Those things.
Since I have acquired a new camper trailer, (sleeps 4 instead of 8) with all the comforts of home, I'll be able to go to smaller more secluded places. hide out more easily. I've already gotten a 12 volt compressor fridge. Of course there is a stove, oven and kitchen sink. complete bathroom with good size shower, queen sized bed.
I am going to take fewer memories with me. Only those in my mind.
I know the things I'll miss the most. Things like taking her shopping, while I waited on the bench or in the car. Carrying things in while she puts things away. She always asked me where I was going when I stepped outside, which always meant she wanted me to do something. I had to guess. Her hair smelled good. Here, taste this. You're not going to wear that are you?
Becoming a Nomad is what we intended to share. Now I'm going to do it for both of us.

 

[2tu808]

-Tutu. salutations
MY home reminds me every day of some small thing we did or said or felt together.
I've not been inside since Linda died, I've tried to go in but tears come at the door, even the door has memories.
Unlike you, burning it down is beyond me. I could but I just can't.
I have been living in our camper since she died, and even this has memories that wake me in the night. Waking up trying to catch her as she falls but I wake running as fast as I can but not fast enough. I missed and have to live with my failure.
So, it's the thirty oneth of January and I'm still breathing. I've got to get through February and March before I begin to move. Tough sledding. My mind is a terrible thing.
When you recounted your sisters death, My ache felt your agony, for although I know in my conscious mind that those things can not be shared, too personal, only for you alone, private. Tears can not be described or explained. They just are.
Well, enough -- onward.
I got my hands slapped today. I read a ladies lament about feeling alone and helpless with out the abilities of a man around to do the heavy lifting and fixing things. So I responded saying that there are plenty of Husbands and other men that were ready and willing to fill the gap. They are called neighbors. Nomads can be neighbors too. So she could get the heavy lifting done and things fixed. She gets what she needs and the man goes on his way feeling all puffed up and manly, Ego nourished. That's a win win from my perspective.. ---- But NO, Not on the internet. Only women can talk to women about things that men do well.
I think this world is lost. If that's the case. Then I'd find a hole, crawl into it and then pull it in after me.
This afternoon I've begun planning each practical move I will begin, Practical things I'm going to need. Testing Those things.
Since I have acquired a new camper trailer, (sleeps 4 instead of 8) with all the comforts of home, I'll be able to go to smaller more secluded places. hide out more easily. I've already gotten a 12 volt compressor fridge. Of course there is a stove, oven and kitchen sink. complete bathroom with good size shower, queen sized bed.
I am going to take fewer memories with me. Only those in my mind.
I know the things I'll miss the most. Things like taking her shopping, while I waited on the bench or in the car. Carrying things in while she puts things away. She always asked me where I was going when I stepped outside, which always meant she wanted me to do something. I had to guess. Her hair smelled good. Here, taste this. You're not going to wear that are you?
Becoming a Nomad is what we intended to share. Now I'm going to do it for both of us.

Dear Ken~
Thank you for your response. It is good that you are on the forum. Your postings add a little 'umph' to the mix. You've passed along a lot of your life experiences in a humorous and sometimes jarring way. Your voice is as important as the next.

So you've run into a few hurdles. Most of us do. Forums, and indeed all social media, can be interesting to navigate. For instance, little thought, if any, is given to the fact that not everyone in every land and every culture may know the meaning behind the various made-up acronyms that are used these days in communication. Perhaps our future level of communication with each other may be like the following :

BTW, TBH, AFAIK, 2day, IRL, PPL, AKA HS, LFWM, AK. WAM. ID. FILTAB. IGM ROFL. IAC, BCNU. B4N.

Anyway, I make choices where all media is concerned. Most of the time, I stay in the background and sporadically check out the traffic. Sometimes I don't even get online for long periods of time as I love to take what I call 'a breather' and just be. In general, I take as long as I need to determine if any media is a good fit for me. If the energy of the particular media I am viewing is stable, I following it for a bit. If not, I discontinue my participation. Wherever there are humans there will be many agreements and whole a lot of disagreements. In the end, one-size-fits-all is a myth (despite all of our human efforts to make it otherwise). If it really was so, this would be a very boring world except that there'd be no arguments because everyone would look, think, and behave alike. Like robots. Imagine that!

Yay! Good that you're planning your path and testing out all the bells and whistles of the things you will be using on the road as you travel. You've got this one.... with so many years as a trucker, as well as travels with your wife, this will be a homecoming of sorts for you.

Bye for now,

~Tutu

PS: Here is the link to a website listing a mere 3000 of the popular acronyms used by humans. I had to search for it in order to compose the acronym communication above. I created a bunch of my own. Don't ask me five minutes from now to remember what all of them mean. In the long run, it's just not my cup of tea. https://7esl.com/texting-abbreviations/

Translation: By the way, to be honest, as far as I know, today, in real life, people, also known as **** sapiens, Latin for wise man, are kind. Wait a minute. I digress. Forget it, let's take a break. It's good medicine to roll on the floor laughing. In any case, be seeing you. Bye for now.

 

[Freelander]

Looks like you did a great job of it!!! Bet that hurt too! Hope you are able to get outta there soon.

I went back to the Dr today and everything is looking good.

I have metal in my Right Elbow.

 

[gizmotron]

Yikes. You have a bionic arm.

 

[SLB_SA]

In the texting abbreviations, I was glad to see the one "most relevant" to this forum: YOLO.

 

[Seajatt]

Aah, you're very sweet. Thanks for all the support but I was born in the 80s, I've traveled most of my life, served 5 years in the regular Army, worked as a paralegal, a CPA, and owned a newsletter business. My past has been hella crazy, wild, and chaotic but I wouldn't change any of it. Everybody just isn't meant to stay home and plant daisies. I've moved 15 times in 13 years, drank too much, drugged too much, married too many times, and when all of that finally got old, I bought a house and sat my behind down. Now it's 2 years later and I'm about to hit the road again - this time sober and alone so it's going to be an exciting, scary adventure. You seem like a really cool person with a poet's heart and I wish you only the best in your next adventure too.

Like you, I served in the Army and was born in the later 80's and my experience getting out was about like yours, chaos and instability. I'll be leaving Florida this year just as soon as I'm done here to hit the road.

 

[Seajatt]

spent 6 years, 6 months, 23 days in the navy, traveled the far east and escaped with no damage and no tattoos. I did the drinking but not drugs, didn't need the extra push to feel excited about things. Of course I chased the girls as most young men did and do, ended up meeting a dream girl, one of 9 sisters and 6 brothers, dated all of the girls, chose the best one, married and after some time found that I was only whole with her. Now Half of me has died. Some times I wonder how my heart keeps on beating. but it does, I'm not a complete person any longer.
I made a wrong judgment about your age. So you are young, probably full of tomorrows to come. I'm old, very old. I guess 83 is old. But today I don't feel old, just getting there --- sort of.
Time and experience has taught me to plan ahead somewhat. That's what I am doing now. I am trying very hard to stop looking backward. As the clock tics, the time is coming soon to ease out into the last chapter of my life. I've decided that there is joy and excitement ahead as there was in those days and years that have passed.
Half of me is going to move ahead, taking the ache in the pit of my stomach with me like my good old friend. I'll just live with it.
A little more to go, shedding the "things" that just take up space, no longer used or needed. It's hard.
Nice things are afoot, I'm learning new, old things I'm going to need to keep this half me healthy and going. I just ate some food. Drank some unhealthy coffee. changed the propane tank on the nose of the trailer, re-lit the hot water heater. It's near zero outside. Nice 70 in here, well 68 but that's fine.
Ya know, one day we will cross paths, at least within 1000 miles, I've decided that this half of me can not be made whole again, so I'm not going to try that dead end road.
Taking stock of what is, not what I wish it were.
My son just came in and talked to me about his sailing adventure to begin this spring and summer. He is going to sail on the water, I'm going to sail on land.
Not that it would be of interest to you but I'm going to build him an auto tiller so he can sail single handed, also weld up the needed hardware to raise and lower his main mast by himself as he goes into the unknown.
As i take off I know that I will never see this place again. everything will be new again. Scary thought.
Ken

I enjoy reading your post, I'm really glad you joined the forums. I hope to hear more about your travels and thoughts.

 

[Seajatt]

Motorcycle confessions....

I was deeply involved long ago, rode a lot, and some back and forth from the midwest to Az a number of times, but got out of it in the late 80s. A few years ago the spark was reignited, I cant afford Knuckleheads, like I rode long ago, nor even Panheads, but came into a decent 84 Shovel. its slowly morphing into a somewhat older style, and may inherit a 1950 Panhead right engine case and STD Pan heads if I can find a set. Its also set up for a sidecar so i can take my dog, and in that form is part of my future seasonal nomadics plan.

I nomaded years ago because i simply loved being out in the hills, and it wasnt worth it to have a fixed house since i wasnt there most of the time. Now, again, it will be by choice, and to escape winter in the Rockies, though I may end up permanently relocating to Arizona at some point. The plan is north-central Arizona and the surrounding areas, some NM, some Utah, lots of back country, dirt roads, quiet places, small towns. Build a cargo trailer camper rig I can take the bike/sidecar in, and go find the silent places again.

1983, on my 47 Knuckle
View attachment 30222

The current adventure bike awaiting its turn
View attachment 30223

View attachment 30224

Awesome pictures and recollections to go along with it. Thanks for sharing.

 

[Seajatt]

Motorcycle confessions....

I was deeply involved long ago, rode a lot, and some back and forth from the midwest to Az a number of times, but got out of it in the late 80s. A few years ago the spark was reignited, I cant afford Knuckleheads, like I rode long ago, nor even Panheads, but came into a decent 84 Shovel. its slowly morphing into a somewhat older style, and may inherit a 1950 Panhead right engine case and STD Pan heads if I can find a set. Its also set up for a sidecar so i can take my dog, and in that form is part of my future seasonal nomadics plan.

I nomaded years ago because i simply loved being out in the hills, and it wasnt worth it to have a fixed house since i wasnt there most of the time. Now, again, it will be by choice, and to escape winter in the Rockies, though I may end up permanently relocating to Arizona at some point. The plan is north-central Arizona and the surrounding areas, some NM, some Utah, lots of back country, dirt roads, quiet places, small towns. Build a cargo trailer camper rig I can take the bike/sidecar in, and go find the silent places again.

1983, on my 47 Knuckle
View attachment 30222

The current adventure bike awaiting its turn
View attachment 30223

View attachment 30224

If you got some stories to how you got to where you did, or just old stories from riding back then and now, I'd like to hear them, I could use some wisdom in my life.

 

[Malamute]

I dont feel all that wise at this point, but I guess things could have turned out worse.

I was always fascinated with western history, spent much time and energy reading and learning all sorts of mostly arcane stuff about history, Indians, mountain men, living outdoors, and pursued adventure as much as I could. Part of how that manifested itself was the old bike, I built it from parts from a basket case chopper into a road bike. A 47 is way more interesting and fun than late model stuff.

So, moved to Az from the midwest, spent lots of time camping, roaming, hunting small game and stuff like that. Nomaded a lot for a few years. Ended up moving farther north 8 years later, built log cabins and other more normal houses for a while, and all sorts of other work. If I had it to do over again, id probably get a job with the Forest Service, and get to work outside a lot, have regular pay, and retirement. Thats all the wisdom Ive got for the moment besides follow your dream as much as is reasonably practicable. Having a solid retirement plan is also a good idea.

Had a handful of riding buddies that either also didnt drink (I started and quit drinking a bit early, I had quit when 19, most of the time I was riding i didnt drink), or at least didnt drink like most people riding motorcycles seem to. We rode all over Az, camped a lot, saw the sights, panned gold a time or two for fun, got caught in rain and snowstorms, mud roads, saw lots of sunrises and sunsets, and sat around many campfires. We discussed making a camp seasoning to sell, it would have to have black pepper, a touch of salt, a little garlic, and some sand and ash to complete the camp cooking feel.

Dumb bike story: When I built my 47 Knuckle, I built it in a 1958-64 Panhead swingarm frame, much nicer than the old hardtail frames for lots of long riding. I was wearing out swingarm bearings every year riding on washboard dirt roads all the time, they usually last a long time. Brainstorm! Ill put it in the hardtail frame and wont have to worry about it any more. Went back to the midwest, swapped the frames out while visiting family, and took off for Az. Made 400 miles the first day, my regular stop. Got up the second day, made 500 miles, the next regular stop. Went by some guys house I sort of knew and was going to stay with,...lights on, but nobody home. Hmm,... decided id get a little farther before stopping, little farther, still feeling good, ended up doing 1000 miles that day, on the hardtail. Made it in to Flagstaff in the wee hours, slept a few hours, and got up and went for a ride to Sedona for fun. Its in the hardtail frame in the deer picture.

Oh, and all that riding on washboard dirt roads with the hardtail frame ended up cracking it in 3 places. I never knew it until I took it down to out back in the swingarm frame. I guess its safe to say the old H-D frames are somewhat overbuilt.

 

[wb8vyn]

If you got some stories to how you got to where you did, or just old stories from riding back then and now, I'd like to hear them, I could use some wisdom in my life.

Oh heck bud, I started out with a whizzer, then a cushman then a vespa, I can't remember them all. Was a west coast kid, went everywhere from British Columbia down into Mexico, mostly along the west coast, either 101 or 99 when they were two lane roads (paved). Big deal back then. Many detours this way and that. Gas was leaded and the motor cycles had carburetors. Kick starters that would launch you or break a leg when they back fired. One time I went up on Mulholland Drive with old Harley that I had at the time, probably 1951, there was a bar/dance hall up there at the top, where you could always find some one that had ID to buy you a quart of Olympia beer, and just hang out. One such night I was up there with some others about my age, Had just shut my bike down, found some one to get me a quart, when the float in the carb sank, drizzled gas on the hot exhaust, caught the thing on fire, tires and all. Back then, the lead in the gas would soak up the cork floats over time, they'd sink, instant bon fire. Long walk home to Reseda or was it Canoga Park. I think I called my dad. He picked me up in the Hudson and chewed me out good but did go get the pieces of my bike with a trailer the next day. He told me "only hoodlums' road motor cycles. I didn't feel like a hoodlum. All I wanted was the girls.
I got a Norton after that, was riding along Sepulveda Past a school one day, scoping out the girls, a guy in a 50 ford was scoping them too but he stopped to look and I didn't, Broke my leg on his bumper. Was in a cast for three months. End of Norton. Both Mom and dad were mad, they lived, so did I.
Time for coffee

 

[Sofisintown]

...He told me "only hoodlums' road motor cycles....

I resemble this statement! I rode motorcycles for 40 something years and I wasn't hoodlumy at all!

 

[Seajatt]

I dont feel all that wise at this point, but I guess things could have turned out worse.

I was always fascinated with western history, spent much time and energy reading and learning all sorts of mostly arcane stuff about history, Indians, mountain men, living outdoors, and pursued adventure as much as I could. Part of how that manifested itself was the old bike, I built it from parts from a basket case chopper into a road bike. A 47 is way more interesting and fun than late model stuff.

So, moved to Az from the midwest, spent lots of time camping, roaming, hunting small game and stuff like that. Nomaded a lot for a few years. Ended up moving farther north 8 years later, built log cabins and other more normal houses for a while, and all sorts of other work. If I had it to do over again, id probably get a job with the Forest Service, and get to work outside a lot, have regular pay, and retirement. Thats all the wisdom Ive got for the moment besides follow your dream as much as is reasonably practicable. Having a solid retirement plan is also a good idea.

Had a handful of riding buddies that either also didnt drink (I started and quit drinking a bit early, I had quit when 19, most of the time I was riding i didnt drink), or at least didnt drink like most people riding motorcycles seem to. We rode all over Az, camped a lot, saw the sights, panned gold a time or two for fun, got caught in rain and snowstorms, mud roads, saw lots of sunrises and sunsets, and sat around many campfires. We discussed making a camp seasoning to sell, it would have to have black pepper, a touch of salt, a little garlic, and some sand and ash to complete the camp cooking feel.

Dumb bike story: When I built my 47 Knuckle, I built it in a 1958-64 Panhead swingarm frame, much nicer than the old hardtail frames for lots of long riding. I was wearing out swingarm bearings every year riding on washboard dirt roads all the time, they usually last a long time. Brainstorm! Ill put it in the hardtail frame and wont have to worry about it any more. Went back to the midwest, swapped the frames out while visiting family, and took off for Az. Made 400 miles the first day, my regular stop. Got up the second day, made 500 miles, the next regular stop. Went by some guys house I sort of knew and was going to stay with,...lights on, but nobody home. Hmm,... decided id get a little farther before stopping, little farther, still feeling good, ended up doing 1000 miles that day, on the hardtail. Made it in to Flagstaff in the wee hours, slept a few hours, and got up and went for a ride to Sedona for fun. Its in the hardtail frame in the deer picture.

Oh, and all that riding on washboard dirt roads with the hardtail frame ended up cracking it in 3 places. I never knew it until I took it down to out back in the swingarm frame. I guess its safe to say the old H-D frames are somewhat overbuilt.

Thanks for the post. I did a little work with the forest service back around 2015, I really enjoyed the work. It might be something I look into because I can do it seasonally, and I didn't know it when I first got on with them, but there is a surprising amount of nomads that work seasonally within the forest service. Some are bush firefighters, but quite a few work the front desks, or do fisheries, etc.

I was working with the archaelogists way up on mount hood doing transects, its a way to grid off an area and walk through it, searching for anything culturally and historically significant. I believe that's how they also search for missing people. Anyways, we were way out there, gloomy day, little bit of drizzle and we come across this 55 galloon steel drum, and its full of blood and viscera. That had my hair standing up on end and the other two people I was working with looked spooked as well. We thought it was some kind of cultist thing, because they were out there, so we high-tailed it out of there lol. We get back to Hood River Ranger Station and tell the lead archaeologist what had happened. He was an old guy and had been all over the place. He looked at us and started laughing, almost fell out of his chair. Well it turns out it was some kind of bear draw that the wildlife people use to help track the movement of bears in the area.

I guess I'm at a point now, turning 36 years old, been working since I was 16 and I'm just wondering why I'm doing this, and no longer wanting to do it. The costs of everything keep rising and its like working to exist. It's not a life I want anymore and it feels more like I'm marking time until I die. And I know it can some sooner than we think, I have friends that never made it out of their twenties. I sometimes think about that. Like what would happen if next year I contracted cancer. "Here lies Tango. He served was in the Army. He paid his debts. RIP." That's the road I've been on and will continue to be on if I don't change. Its just a little scary because it means letting go of everything normal and comfortable. But normal and comfortable I feel are stealing my life away.

I think if/when the van I just bought finally gives out, I may just get a bike. I wanted to ride across the US on a Harley when I got out of the Army and somewhere along the way, that goal/dream got lost in the shuffle.

I've done a lot of social work and I've worked with a lot of old people who slaved away their entire lives and had nothing to show for it, not even good experiences really. But they were comfortable. But that was about all they were. Just comfortable.

Guys like you and the people on this forum are not the lost ones I feel. The lost ones are going through the daily motions and just existing.

 

[Seajatt]

Oh heck bud, I started out with a whizzer, then a cushman then a vespa, I can't remember them all. Was a west coast kid, went everywhere from British Columbia down into Mexico, mostly along the west coast, either 101 or 99 when they were two lane roads (paved). Big deal back then. Many detours this way and that. Gas was leaded and the motor cycles had carburetors. Kick starters that would launch you or break a leg when they back fired. One time I went up on Mulholland Drive with old Harley that I had at the time, probably 1951, there was a bar/dance hall up there at the top, where you could always find some one that had ID to buy you a quart of Olympia beer, and just hang out. One such night I was up there with some others about my age, Had just shut my bike down, found some one to get me a quart, when the float in the carb sank, drizzled gas on the hot exhaust, caught the thing on fire, tires and all. Back then, the lead in the gas would soak up the cork floats over time, they'd sink, instant bon fire. Long walk home to Reseda or was it Canoga Park. I think I called my dad. He picked me up in the Hudson and chewed me out good but did go get the pieces of my bike with a trailer the next day. He told me "only hoodlums' road motor cycles. I didn't feel like a hoodlum. All I wanted was the girls.
I got a Norton after that, was riding along Sepulveda Past a school one day, scoping out the girls, a guy in a 50 ford was scoping them too but he stopped to look and I didn't, Broke my leg on his bumper. Was in a cast for three months. End of Norton. Both Mom and dad were mad, they lived, so did I.
Time for coffee

It seems like you went from vagabonding on a bike, to travelling in a truck. You got bit early if I'm understanding right, but I also wonder what kept you doing it and why do it at all in the first place? What was your thinking back then and now as you've progressed through the years. What are your regrets, and what are your victories?