Ride Across America: Day Twenty Three
It was hard to get moving today. Not because I wasn’t up early. I was. Not because I didn’t have my bike packed and ready to go. I did. I needed to run to a couple of stores before I left town, and that ended up taking most of the morning.
Actually, it wouldn’t have been so bad, except I went on an unexpected tour. You see, I punched in the address to a WalMart into my GPS, and began following the instructions. However, at one point, I needed to turn left, but couldn’t. You see, there was an eighteen wheeler flipped over on it’s side, blocking the entire road. This flatbed was carrying a load of cars, and it looked like he had taken the corner too quickly, and flipped on his side. Not a pretty site.
So, rather than turn left, as my GPS instructed me to do, I was forced to go right as the cop was instructing me to do. At that point, my GPS began to get mad at me, telling me to make a U-turn and go back the way it had instructed me. I tried explaining that the cop wouldn’t let me go that way, but it simply would not listen.
I followed the truck ahead of me, hoping that he knew a way around the mess and back to the road we were supposed to be on. A few minutes later, I was in the middle of a very rough looking neighbourhood. I don’t know if Fort Worth has an inner city, but if it does, I was in it. As I rode through the streets, people walking would stop and stare at me. I know what they were thinking, “Stupid white boy. Gonna get himself in trouble.”
I sat up straight on my Harley and tried to look as big and as tough as I could. I even scowled a little and did my best to make the bike growl at every corner. It might have worked, if I had remember to turn off my GPS. Suddenly, as I was being stared at by a couple of guys standing across the street, my wonderful navigation unit spoke up.
Now, you should know that I have programmed little Stewie from The Family Guy as my GPS’s navigation voice. That’s right, the baby Stewie. When you don’t follow his instructions, he yells, “What the hell are you doing? This is not the way I told you to go. Now, do as I say!”
And, that is precisely what my wonderful GPS yelled at me in that funny accent of Stewie’s just as I was trying to look the meanest that I could. I roared away from the corner, not bothering to look back at the guys who probably decided that this White Boy was simply crazy and not worth the hassle.
I finally got back on track and found the WalMart.
It was close to Noon when I finally pulled out of Fort Worth. I rode a few hundred miles before stopping again. This time, a man walked up to me at a gas station. He was an older gentleman, and wanted to know where I was coming from.
I told him Ottawa, Canada (you see, Canadians have learned not to bother giving the name of our province, since most Americans don’t have a clue what province is where. We simply give our city name, and our Country, knowing that you still wont have a clue where we’re from). As I began to tell him where Ottawa is located, he quickly said, “Oh, I know where Ottawa is. I’ve been there a few times. It’s the capital of the province it’s in.”
I corrected him, explaining that Ottawa is actually the capital of Canada, not the province. He told me that I was wrong, and that it was the province’s capital (he didn’t know the name of the province). I tried once more to tell him that it was actually the Nation’s capital, but realized he wasn’t going to be convinced, so I let it drop.
(Just a little fun push at you Americans. I realize that you’re not going to learn every province’s name, or even the capital city of each province. But, since we are your biggest trading partner, your closest ally, and provide more tourists dollars to you than any other country, would it be a big deal if you could at least learn what the Capital of Canada is? And where Ottawa is located? Just saying. 
)
Back to the older gentleman. He is quite friendly, like most of the people I’ve spoken with. He tells me the story of a lady he met last year. She was 69, and she was on a SilverWing. She told him that every year she would head out on some sort of road trip on her own. She had gone from Maine to Florida. She had gone from the East Coast to the Mid West. And most of the Eastern States. Every year, she would take a few weeks and ride. The man thought this was so cool for such an older woman. I agreed. Very cool.
I hope I have that much energy when I’m an old woman. Wait a minute. You know what I mean.
The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful. I ended up dong 475 miles (764 kms) today.
Tomorrow is my really long day. If I manage to get as far as I am planning, I will be in the saddle for nine hours
