So, Where Are You Headed?
This has to be one of the most common opening questions that people ask motorcycle riders. If the asker isn’t much of a rambling-type, the answer “nowhere in particular,” seems to baffle them at times. I suppose only the wanderers find that much of the pleasure is in the doing not in the arriving.
On Sunday while I was having lunch on the patio of the very tiny Winsted Diner, a woman at a neighboring table called over to me and said, “your bike looks pretty muddy. Where’ve you been?” And aside from being mid-chew, my answer was delayed because the truth was – I had no idea.
Well, I knew what state I was in. And if given a map I could’ve backtracked my way to the spot that I foolishly dipped in to a couple deep, nasty, puddles on a lonely road. Puddles that could’ve suctioned me in to the point that I would’ve had to walk somewhere for help. But, offhand? I had no idea what town it was in. I had been just wandering. My reply to her, “somewhere I probably shouldn’t have been,” was the truest answer I could come up with. And maybe the truest of all.
Don’t know where I’ve been or where I’m going. And somehow, that’s alright.