Day 6: The Motorcycle Adventures of the Bearded Lady

BokBok

While doing our pre-ride once over, we found that my plugged tire had dropped nearly 10 pounds of pressure overnight. We gave the mushroom plug one last tug to try to pull the seal a little tighter and went about re-filling the tire.

Our morning began with a conversation with the hotel’s front desk  girl over the steady pumping whirrrrr of my Slime compressor.

She’d been standing next to the entrance taking long drags on her cigarette when we walked outside. She wore a disturbingly fake tan, baby-pink lipstick and too-blonde hair. Though my back was partially turned to her as I went about my business, I got that sensation that she was watching me.

“You ride that bike?” she asked.

Nails on a chalkboard. The intolerant part of me hoped that she was talking to Kenny as he packed up his bike. But, when I looked back to her, she was looking directly at me. Damn. This is the part where I have to remember that not everyone is on the same plane and to be gentle with them.

My first instinct was to say something like – “You mean this one here? The one I’m putting my stuff in to the luggage box of? The one you watched me put the key into? The one with NO ONE ELSE standing next to it? Yes, this one is mine.”

Cue smile and polite chit-chat.

The rest of the conversation was pretty inconsequential, you know – typical “I’ve always wanted to ride,” and “my boyfriend showed me how to ride a little bit in a parking lot on his R1,” type of stuff.

During these exchanges, I do try to be polite and drop my dress yourself properly and take an MSF class 2¢. But, to be honest the more time goes by the more difficult it has become to deal with people. Sometimes it really seems like no matter what you say to try to steer them in a cautious direction it falls on deaf ears. You just can’t save the world and on this particular morning I wasn’t in the mood for trying.

That was enough of that, it was time to hit the road. We actually had somewhere to be!

Off the Beaten Path

Since we had just a couple hundred miles to travel, the route I’d strung together took advantage of some smaller roads on the map. We were all set to zig-zag our way around a bit before we picked up WV 219 to make tracks north to Elkins.

Taking the path less traveled

Because the map showed no indication that the pavement ended, I was a little surprised when the first leg of our trip was on dirt roads. Pleasantly surprised as it turned out.

lovely old farm road

Though it isn’t the 1050 Tiger’s strong suit, it did just fine on the hard-packed dirt. Aside from some pockets of larger loose stones, it isn’t much different than riding tarmac. You just do it with a little caution. You could really ride pretty much anything on that type of surface. No “Adventure Bike” required. But, I will say that there were many moments I’d wished I had my Husky to go ripping around on instead.

The upside of leaving the pavement for these dirt roads was the views. There were rolling hills and beautiful old barns that you would never see unless you rolled the dice and followed a whim. I suppose that is the reward of a road less traveled. A seldom seen view except for those that live there.

Rolling green fields in Virginia

The little farm roads alternated between pavement and dirt between the valleys. Miles of green grass waved at us when we climbed down out of the mountains. Slithering S-turns beckoned us to come closer and go up, up, up.

There’s a Squatch in Them Woods

In the middle of nowhere in particular, we approached a traffic stop at an intersection. Two Virginia State Troopers were checking the licenses of everyone passing through.

The Trooper closest to us as we approached motioned for me to stop next to him and I did. He bruskly said, “license, please,” in that special tone and timber saved for law enforcement officials.

Because my wallet was not easily reachable while sitting there in the middle of the road, I politely asked if I could pull over to get at it. He agreed. It was in that moment that a cold sweat came over me.

Crap.

He kept working the lane and the lady trooper who’d finished with another driver walked towards me while I was still fishing my kitty wallet out. When I finally freed my license, I handed it to her with a sense of dread.

She looked at it and quickly dropped it on the ground. She bent down and picked it up and looked me in the eye, looked back at my license and looked at me again. It was in this moment that I wanted to die.

routine traffic stop
Image of Warthog from wikipedia

You see, I have this teeny-tiny problem with my license. My brand new license, which I will have for the next eight years has the most HIDEOUS photograph on it. Sometimes I look at it and I just cannot believe the magnitude of just how disturbing it is.

I almost, ALMOST want to post a picture of it for confirmation that I look like Bigfoot in the photo.

On the day that it came in the mail, I opened the envelope and immediately and uncontrollably blurted out a nervous cackle. Surely it had to be some kind of joke? I handed it to Kenny for confirmation that the depth of cruelty the DMV inflicts upon you has been taken to new levels. He quickly confirmed my suspicions.

When your husband looks at your new drivers license and bravely deadpans, “you look like you have a beard,” you know it’s bad. That kind of candor from a man to his wife is reserved for unparalleled disaster.

my hideous license causing retinal damage

It may not have been perceptible to the casual onlooker but I swear I saw the lady Trooper wince when she took one last look at my license before handing it back. This is someone who sees traffic accidents, so you get some idea of the level of grotesquery we’re talking about here.

She made a tiny amount of small talk and sent us on our way. No doubt she was in a hurry to get the photo of a bearded warthog out of her hands. I felt like tearing my helmet off and screaming, “LOOK AT ME! LOOOOK AT MEEEE! I DON’T REALLY LOOK LIKE THAT!” Frankly, I’m surprised I wasn’t arrested for assaulting an officer.

For about 50 miles following that traffic stop, I was left to wonder:

  1. Will that poor Virginia Trooper lady go back home and tell her family about the yeti she saw?
  2. What if I really do look like my license photo?
Mail Pouch Tobacco Barn Route 219

When we made our way into West Virginia we pulled off at a gas station to fill up and grab a drink. As I stood on the curb outside I watched the big puffy, white clouds that seemed to just sit stalled in the sky; never moving forward or backward. They just seemed content with their place in the world. I wondered if I would ever feel like that for long periods of time?

rolling along on the back roads

The whole day’s ride felt romantic in a way that I know other motorcyclists must understand. It was a long string of vignettes featuring gorgeous corners and beautiful scenery, punctuated by moments when your heart and your mind are wide open and anything seemed possible.

When we arrived at Elkins, our friend Robert from New York had already arrived and was unpacking his motorcycle. That excited feeling like something fun was about to happen overcame me. Of course Kenny and I had had the most amazing time riding for 6 days with just the two of us, but when you get together and ride with good friends – the days take on a whole other level of excitement.

Tiger Only Parking

After we said our initial our hellos and talked briefly about our respective travels so far, I ran inside to check-in while the guys hung outside. The grandmotherly lady working the front desk quickly went about checking me in. Everything was going fine until she fumbled my license on the desk after asking for my ID.

Sonofa! 😕

More Posts from the Trip:

Fuzzygalore

Rachael is the whimsical writer behind the 20+ year old Girlie Motorcycle Blog. As a freelance blogger, she is on a mission to inspire laughter, self-examination, curiosity, and human connection. Girlie Motorcycle Blog can be found on several Best Motorcycle Blog lists.

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15 Responses

  1. novos says:

    This is where we all have to post our licenses to compare the “not that bads”

  2. OG says:

    Hey-suess Christo, you have to wait for your license to come in the mail and it’s an eight year thing?? Wow, I thought I lived in a low tech state. In other news, my new license is pretty awful .

  3. Brenda says:

    I have one of those licences at the moment. I shaved my head for charity just before I went for my riders licence course, so I have a nearly bald photo licence! The good thing is I have to get an upgrade after 12 months .. yay only 10 more months to hide my licence.

    Your post was a joy to read as usual Fuzzy, thankyou for taking me along 🙂

  4. Andrew says:

    Gravel, delicious gravel!

    Love the pics, that blue sky really looks great – especially seeing that our sky here is pretty grey at the moment (should start to get a bit nicer in a few months).

  5. Kathy says:

    Wow, I love the gravel road pics. Old barns and sky, oh my! But where were all the cows? I’m glad you were gentle with the hotel chick. People in that part of the world often live much different lives. And you do NOT look like a warthog or a yeti. Not even remotely. Actually, I think you look much nicer in photos than you give yourself credit for. License photos don’t count (says the woman who also has a horrible license photo).

  6. Joe Popp says:

    Bearded lady – too funny! Another great post. Love the pics!

  7. Trobairitz says:

    Great post and pics as always.

    Aren’t really bad license pictures a pre-requisite for having a license? Mine always looks like i have too many chins and my Oakleys are always on the top of my head.

    I think you may have just found your next challenge.

  8. wendyvee says:

    Will the Giant Chicken Tyranny never end!!

    Someone walked across the hall and shut my door because I was laughing at your license description.

    If you think you have it bad; my license picture looks like a giant mis-shapen bust of Sally Struthers’ head (circa the Save the Children era)with murder in its eyes.

  9. You need to move to Minnesota because I’ve had a few DMV ladies let me preview my photo AND retake a photo!

    Love reading about your trip!

  10. Shybiker says:

    You crack me up. I love your posts and your humor.

    My dad was a cop so I spent a lot of time growing up in a police station. I can (sadly) assure you that the lady trooper went back to headquarters and regaled her colleagues for an hour about the bearded woman she saw that day.

    And the hotel girl? I’ve given up on trying to educate people. It’s not our responsibility to enlighten the ignorant. That’s their job.

  11. bobskoot says:

    Fuzzy:

    the last time I was at the Motor Vehicle office, they snapped my photo and asked if it looked ok, otherwise they would have taken another one. Up here they don’t want you to smile, just give them that serious look

    bob
    Riding the Wet Coast
    My Flickr // My YouTube

  12. Connie says:

    Well I don’t know how much a license costs in your state, but I would be tempted to “accidently lose” the bearded lady one. LOL. Once again I travel with you on your journey’s, so much like mine :). I to can handle the packed dirt roads, but try to stay away from really gravelly ones, SV just doesn’t like them. And #1 – Stay off the Front brake 🙂

  13. Ed says:

    I was a little unsure I wanted to click the google result for your site when i was browsing for motorcycle blogs, because it looked targeted at ladies.

    Glad I clicked the link. Funny story. Adding to Google Reader and look forward to reading back through your adventures.

  14. CThailand says:

    Giant Chicken love ly.

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