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Sounds like it is going to be a long trip, then!

The plan, when it comes off is to visit some friends and family in Pennsylvania (Exton and Mechanicsburg). Move up to N.Y. state to see a bunch more relatives, then on up to Halifax (cousins - Di's and mine). Then it's westwards to Toronto (friends), Calgary (how could I not stop at Calgary, having posted on TMW for several years), then on to BC (Hi Doc, Hi Blues) where I shall no doubt find it looks nothing like the black and white photos I remember from the picture book I had as a kid. After that I turn south to visit more friends and family in Seattle, San Francisco and possibly San Diego (the San Diego lot may be moving). I've always wanted to see Washington and Oregon. They sound like my kind of place.

My friend, Doug, a New Yorker by birth, hates the West Coast with a passion and warns me not to visit. He tells me that West Coast wierdos will warp my mind. I find his comments all very interesting because they add up to probably the best recommendation the West Coast is ever going to get.

Doug and I have been friends since schooldays (his family were Anglophiles and sent him to school over here) but we are utterly different in every conceivable way. Name any subject: music, politics, sport, dogs, food, religion, ethics and we are already in violent disagreement with each other. When I first reconnected with him about five years ago after a long gap he had just won a 'Republican Businessman of the Year' award. So, that sums up the difference between us in a nutshell (or a bombshell!). Fortunately, each of us thinks the other is nuts, so we get along fine.

I'm not sure I particularly want to see Washington DC, blues. Buildings that are designed to make people feel small have always seemed ugly to me. Anything that is bigger than the kind of building a man or woman needs to live in is more than a building. It is an idea. And when an idea is made bigger than a human life - nomatter what idea it is - it shouts power and dominion. It seems to me that that's what places like Washington DC are all about. They are grand shows of state power and control - very oppressive.

And the style of the federal buildings and monuments does nothing for me either. I've always disliked that kind of 'classical' look. Ambitious states in the Western world have always modelled themselves on ancient Rome and aped its architecture. Washington is rigid with that kind of architectural language. Rome was the great expansionist power centre of the ancient world. Washington is a political treatise written out over the landscape.

I have the same problem with some of the pompous buildings in London, even though there is nothing in the British capital on quite the grandiose scale of Washington. Oooops! Getting myself into political hot water here again.

The funny thing is, I am not really a political animal. It took me years to grow my political views and I resisted all the way. I hold on to those views now because they seem to me to come closer to the truth than anything else I have read. And I trust them because I think human life and fulfillment are more important than systems which encourage and magnify violence and exploitation. I have my private doubts and fears, of course, but taking the broader view I've never heard an argument or seen any evidence to make me change my mind.

You pushed a button, though blues, in a casual remark you made in your last post. In many ways the perspective I have on the world is a burden and I sometimes I wish I didn't have it. I start with a different set of assumptions to most people I meet, which means that having a casual conversation with them about any social or political or moral or economic issue becomes virtually impossible. When I feel less than completely secure in the world it makes me feel like an outsider. But mostly, I just accept that it is a price that has to be paid.

Well, that's a long way from planning a bike ride round the U.S. and Canada. It's a long way from bikes.

So I guess I will just briefly update you with some bike news before I sign off.

Monday:
Booked my ferry over to France.

Arranged to get two new tyres put on the Daytona after pulling the broken end of a Stanley blade out of the back one.

I also arranged to take the SV into SDC in Stevenage and get their mechanic to look at it again. The banging came back and got very loud on Saturday.

Today, Tuesday
Wheeled out the Daytona first thing in the morning ready to take it to Bob's tyres. I'd tested the wheel over the weekend. It stayed up for about fifteen minutes at a time. But what it does at the weekend it doesn't necessarily do the following Tuesday. As soon as I pumped it up this morning, it started to hiss loudly and then collapsed. I reckoned I would have about three minutes worth of riding time after pumping it up. It normally takes fifteen minutes to get into Stevenage. Oh well, that means a lot of pumping. Bugger!

But of course, when one thing goes wrong it all does. I went up to the shop for some groceries before riding off and left the engine and lights on. When I got back the battery was flat. Bugger! Bugger! Bugger!.

But I had one last hope. The DB is back sleeping on my futon again. (He's homeless, beaten, vengeful and loveless at the moment - so not much new there then). I turfed him out of bed and got him to help try and bump start the bike. To give him his due, he was very willing to help. But it didn't work.

After that, I wheeled the Daytona back round the house and into the kitchen where I put it on the smart charger. I rang Bob's Tyres and said I wouldn't be able to get it to them till lunch time. I then got out the SV and went to work, but only after discovering that the gloves I had left on the wall out front had been nicked.

After all that running around in my leathers I was sweating like the Victoria Falls.

When I got into work I found I had a lunchtime meeting booked that I couldn't get out of. I throught about not turning up anyway, but decided I was in enough hot water already. I was disgustingly sweaty under the leathers, so I took the morning off and went back home. At half-eleven I fired up the Daytona and rode her into Stevenage at 20 mph on a flat tyre. That was interesting. I got through my meeting quite well, and survived the rest of the day, then picked the Daytona up at five o'clock. Job done.

Tasks for tomorrow (Wednesday): 1. to take the SV into Letchworth to get the clip fitted on the exhaust joint. 2. to organise some European home recovery insurance and some travel insurance.

Task for Thursday: to take the SV into SDC and let them look at it again for me. (The banging is back big-time - but it comes and goes. I'll leave it with them while I'm in France. It will be safer there than sitting round the back of my empty house. (Well, the DB will be staying there, but he is usually so p1ssed at night that he wouldn't notice if someone stole the bed from under him. But I'm only slightly concerned. He's a good lad - he's just not quite sure which way is north.)

Friday: France.

Wednesday:

Well, I managed to get the clamp fitted on the SV's pipe and I got myself some travel insurance. I also remembered to get some Euros at the last minute. I'll need those as soon as I get to France to pay for the toll roads. But I can't find my E111 card (or whatever it is called nowadays). The E111 gives me the right to free medical care throughout the European Union should I need it. So it is worth having. Must hunt tonight!

What I didn't get was some home recovery insurance. Oh well, tomorrow! Can't do everything at once.

The big decision is whether to take the SV or the Daytona (I'm still dithering about taking the SV. The knocking has been coming and going for ages, but she still seems to run OK.) The SV is the better touring bike and organising the luggage on her is now second nature, but the Daytona is more fun, and is in better shape. Decisions! Decisions!

On a more personal note, I'm pissed off with the DB. I caught him making a long telephone call on my phone last night when he thought I wasn't around. (It's just like having teenage kids in the house.) It wasn't the cost of the call that annoyed me so much as the deception. He promised he would ask if he wanted to use the phone (he ran up a big bill last time he was here.) He is usually very reliable once he has promised not to do something, so this has changed my view about giving him free run of the house when he is homeless. I'm getting ready for some straight talking tonight.

The problem is, he doesn't fully understand the concept of personal responsibility. And that is hardly surprising given his family history. He's never had a place that he could call 'home' in his entire life. His whole background has hardwired him up to think only of his immediate need and to rely on others to pick him up when things go wrong. He doesn't see himself in those terms, of course. And that's the problem. It is always someone else's fault that he's in a jam. It's very hard to change that kind of mindset.

He's also painfully insecure. His endless, tedious boasting is a mind-numbing ritual we have to go through every night. It's painful to watch as he tries to convince himself that he is worth something more than the pile of dodo he thinks he is. I've rarely met anyone with less real self-esteem. The boasting doesn't work. And, of course, it never will. He's just a bottomless pit. I never know whether I want to yell at him in frustration, or try to find ways to make him feel better, even if only for a few minutes. But whatever I do, unless he finds some way of taking control of his life he will go on repeating this stuff forever.

I persist with him because he knows (vaguely) that he is not doing himself any favours. He keeps trying to get himself sorted out and then keeps slipping back. You can see the conflict in him. Kids like this will go on making mistakes until they have worn themselves out. Then they hit a crisis and they either make it or they don't. I think he's near that crisis point, now. It takes a lot of patience and mine is at a low ebb. I've done the paternalistic bit and given him 'the talk' several times, but I doubt if it has done much good. Hopefully his new GF will do better. She's the first he's had who seems to be stable enough to do the job. I hope she likes a challenge. If not - poor girl!

Are you letting him stay in your house while you are gone?

That's the general idea. I am a bit nervous about it, but he really is a good kid (kid! he's in his mid-20s) and generally he is trustworthy. He does have a very strong sense of loyalty, despite everything else. We've known him a long time and have built up a strong relationship with him. I can understand your reaction, blues, but it's not like he's someone we have just met. He's become almost like family.

I tackled him about the phone call. He said that his niece called him. He doesn't lie very well, and though I'm a little surprised I didn't hear the phone ring from upstairs, I do believe him. He knows there is no point in lying because I get itemised phone bills. His niece is in a state of crisis herself at the moment. I won't go into details except to say that if it had happened to me I would have regarded it as some kind of major catastrophe of the Sunday newspaper variety. Major catastrophes seem to be fairly frequent in his world.

I had another long think about Kevin overnight and talked to a friend about him this morning. I feel a lot more confident about my decision to let him stay here now. There is a risk involved, but I think the odds are in my favour. And it could do him a lot of good. People never learn responsibility unless they have experienced trust. If you don't experience trust, life is just a battleground. Everyday reality becomes a matter of getting as much as you can out of other people.

The way I see it, society's way of organising its economic affairs forces us into economic isolation at all kinds of levels, and creates that situation all the time. It runs totally counter to our inherent need for co-operation. We're social animals, after all. People like the DB hardly stand a chance with all that pressure on them.

I'll let you know how things turn out when I get back.

Have a fabulous trip. Did you pack your camera?

blues2cruise wrote:Have a fabulous trip. Did you pack your camera?

Oh yes!

Hi everyone

Just got back this evening. Had a great biking holiday in France. Saw some truly breathtaking scenery. What a great country. Met some good people, too. Will post about it soon.

The Daytona was a dream. Not at all as uncomfortable as I thought she was going to be and there was no real luggage problem. She has 7000 miles on her clock now and the engine is beginning to purr.

The house is still in one piece.

I was right.

'I trust the DB.'

'He's a good and, in some ways, quite a sensible lad.'

At least, that's what I kept telling myself in France. But I still couldn't help occasionally fantasising that I would return to a burnt out shell of a house or one gutted by tweeny party.

In fact, it's slightly mankier than the house I left, but only slightly. We'll see. The next thing to do is to discuss his long-term plans.

Got to get up and go to work tomorrow. Not so hot a prospect!!!!

Gd nite to one and all.

Congrats on a good trip SV. And glad you came back to a whole house.

mankier..how exactly do you pronounce that one?

roscowgo wrote:Congrats on a good trip SV. And glad you came back to a whole house.

mankier..how exactly do you pronounce that one?

Thanks, Roscow.

Whoops, sorry about 'manky' It just slipped out. 'Manky' means dirty or sticky or just mucky. You can also describe yourself as feeling manky, meaning rough or unwell. If you have a night on the booze you may well wake up the following morning feeling manky. It's northern English slang (I used to live up there).

'Manky' rhymes with 'Yankee'. Mankier is just the state of being more manky. That raises the question of whether you can you be Yankier than your neighbours if you have a New York accent and fly the flag? )