I made one last pit stop in Santa Maria to top off and throw my hoodie on for the long ride home. It was significantly cooler in Santa Maria than it had been anywhere else on the trip so I needed to break out an extra layer. Plus, I knew that the sun would set well before I made it through the last leg of the ride, and it would probably cool off.
$4.55 later, I was back on the 101 and then I hit 166. Highway 166 is relatively boring if you're on two wheels, unless you have a liter bike. The road itself is a two lane highway that cuts through the lower mountain areas in a series of broad sweepers and then straightens out into the Cuyama Valley. It's actually one of the more scenic "slab" rides but I couldn't help but think about what a tremendous waste of rubber it was given the lack of technical twisties. It was pretty barren so I settled into a modest pace and rode out the first stretch of sweepers until I caught up to a couple of vehicles. A big rig was up ahead and an older Mercedes was behind him. If not for the fact that we were all approaching a blind section of the pass, I probably would have gone by them but I eased off the pace and settled in behind them. The Mercedes was chomping at the bit to get around the truck. Just as both of us were going to sieze the opportunity, the big rig swerved over into the oncoming lane, and continued weaving back and forth. His long trailer swayed between to the two lanes that were protected by guard-rails on either side, and I held my breath as my immediate thought was that it was possible I might soon see a very serious accident if he overturned or hit an oncoming car. I eased off the throttle and put some space between us all. The Mercedes did the same, and just as the road curved into a blind corner, the big-rig settled back into his lane.
Once the road opened up again we made our way by. I was reluctant, feeling a little like I was in that scene from The Matrix where Trinity has to maneuver the bike around the diesel truck as it closes in to smash her, but the big rig stayed in his lane and didn't show any signs of repeating his bizarre, erratic behavior. The front of the R6 shimmied modestly as her front-end traction was broken by the centerline reflector plates, but it dissipated quickly and we continued on our way on a mostly open road. The Mercedes was holding a decent pace so I settled in behind him and we carved our way along until we slowed for another, slower motorist ahead. As we made our way through a blind sweeper he made his move to pass as the road opened up to another long straightaway and I gave it an extra second before I cracked the throttle and followed suit. I came up next to the slower car and prepared for the Mercedes to merge back into the lane with plenty of space for me, but I was unpleasantly surprised.
Out of the corner of my eye to the right, I could see the front end of a patrol car sticking out from the bushes. I rolled off the throttle gently but the guy in the Mercedes slammed on his brakes in an effort to downplay his maneuver. I was approaching quickly, applying the brakes now and a car was approaching in the oncoming lane. I looked at the car next to me, the Mercedes was in front of us, but not quite far enough to merge back into the lane. I debated falling back and getting in behind the car, or pulling the pass on both cars with whatever distance I had to spare.
Within another second the Mercedes had eased into the lane at a much slower pace. I accepted the fact that I would probably be getting a ticket as I downshifted and charged forward, settling in front of both of them. I chuckled a little in my helmet at the thought of the CHP witnessing the whole ordeal, and probably hearing me yell at the guy in the car ahead. Once the CHP had disappeared in my rear-view as I entered another sweeping curve, I picked up the pace and left all of them behind.
The skies were a brilliant purple and pink, which made a beautiful backdrop for the yellow dusted mountains and rolling hills. I contemplated stopping to take a picture while there was still daylight but I didn't want to put forth the effort. I was alone, but I was in good company. Even though I had music playing in my earbuds, I tuned it out and listened to the hum of the R6 as she carried us through this empty part of the world. It was as though this piece of the planet had been long forgotten to civilization and we were there to enjoy it as our own sacred place. My wrist was cramping, my back was sore, and I was pretty sure that I had pinched a nerve in my inner leg from having very little meat on my bones and a flat, hard seat to sit on all day. My thighs, butt, and hamstrings were sore and I was feeling fatigued, but it was here that I finally found some peace. It all finally came together as the sun was setting and the roads became dark. Lit only by my headlight I made my way through 40 miles of dark, desolate road.
In life we all make choices. We make choices that are fueled by our beliefs, our emotions, our desires, and our reasoning. What we believe of ourselves, and of our world has a huge impact on guiding our decisions and conributions in life and at some point we all find ourselves staring in a mirror, demanding accountability for why we have ended up where we have. For some, this reflection can be a positive reflection; relishing in one's luck, or prosperity, or happiness. For others... for too many... this reflection is in shame, sadness, or bitterness. Some people go their entire lives living unhappily, but never finding the courage or the willpower to look inward and ask of themselves what their true purpose is. When people have no purpose they have no direction. And when they have no direction, they become lost and angry. Angry people who are lost will grab onto whatever they can for some sense of power, to feel as though they are in control of the variables and when it doesn't work, they reach out for an excuse, for something or someone to blame. Seldom is there love there as often as there is fear; fear of being alone. I know this pattern all too well. I've lived with angry people for most of my life and at some point I've had to let them all go.
As much as I loved him, the truth was that I had felt for a while that pieces of myself were slowly being chipped away from the inside out; leaving a shell of the person I once was. This ride was necessary for me to accept what I truly was in his life and to let go of what I always hoped and believed could be - to let go of it all really. It was necessary for me to liberate myself from the hurt, the anger, and the hope that kept me holding on time and time again in great moments of emptiness, of deafening silence after the roar of uncontrollable emotion that had him storming out for days on end. It was necessary for me to remember that I've always had a sense of purpose beyond what I might be able to conform to as an accessory in one person's life; no matter how much I might want to. There is a world beyond it and that world can be anything that we choose to make it if we just think beyond our struggles and give from our hearts. It was necessary for me to be alone with myself, my motorcycle and an open road with infinite possibilities. I needed to let my soul wander and my heart breathe and as the R6 hummed along beneath me I made amends with this one small injustice in what I hope will be a long and meaningful life.
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