The Devolution of a Ride

"Best laid schemes of mice and men/ Often go awry" - John Steinbeck

Eric and I decided to take Labor Day weekend away from our families and go for a ride of epic intent. Two goals were agreed upon: 1) attempt a SaddleSore and 2) ride through seven new states.

SaddleSore is an endurance test on your motorcycle. It is one of several activities that people can engage in to acquire the moniker of an Iron Butt. SaddleSore is achieved when you ride 1,000 miles in a 24 hour period. There are strict rules and regulations that are involved with acquiring a SaddleSore certificate. You can read all about it here. We felt that working towards this endeavor first and then spend the rest of the weekend traveling to new states on our motorcycles was the best plan.

The forces of nature had something to say about our so-called, "Plans". Rain does not necessary deter me from riding- that's why I bought all my gear with Gore-Tex (super-duper waterproof material that 'breathes'). However, hail does bring about a certain amount of trepidation. Riding at seventy miles per hour with golfball-sized chunks of ice flying at you gives the mind pause. Yet, bravado sometimes trumps sense, and I packed my bags with the intention of riding and headed to Eric's house.

Once there, after pouring over weather maps we decided that we would forgo riding through a total of eleven states and only ride on Sunday with the hopes of unlocking our SaddleSore achievement. The weather was too horrendous. Drinks and merriment were had to celebrate our mature decision of not being struck my chunks of ice.

All systems were a go on Sunday. We woke early, left at our decided time of 4:30 AM. We stopped at the gas station where I added air to my tires, fueled up, and had our SaddleSore documentation signed by a witness (Brandy) with a time stamped receipt to designate our starting time. The Iron Butt rules are rigorous, and they take up to three months to verify your claims.

Riding early in morning on US 190 was a very vitalizing experience. The outline of the trees (cypress, I believe) in the night sky is haunting and beautiful. There was an element of fear due to the darkness, but it heightens your awareness of your surroundings. For several hours the landscape changed from Atchafalaya Basin wildlife preserve to small towns. That juxtaposition is lost when traveling the straight and narrows of interstate paths. For me, it gives me a sense of the evolution of villages, towns, and cities. Back roads remind me of the greater world that exist outside of the city that I live in, and how we are interconnected. These are the thoughts that roll through my head as we travel.

We crossed into Texas with the dawn horizon to our backs. I was excited. We were going to start heading north up East Texas to Oklahoma before turning around and headed back to Baton Rouge. About  twenty miles into Texas, we stopped for some gas, a digital receipt, and a bathroom break.

All things seemed to be in order. Heading north, I noticed a disturbing sound and feel from my motorcycle. It was almost a pulling sensation. I flashed my lights to notify Eric, and immediately pulled over. My first thought was that something was dragging against my back wheel. We took turns riding and looking. I removed my rear guard, but that did not abate the problem. Eric suggested we get off the side of the road and headed back to a parking lot to safely work on the motorcycle.

We parked next to a non descriptor red, aluminum barn*. I was focused on trying to fix the problem- the SaddleSore was at stake. We had only traveled about 220 miles. Since the rear guard did not appear to be the problem, the next thought was that there was something wrong with the back brakes. I pulled out my half-charged phone (didn't think I would need a full charge), and started reading about how to remove your bake breaks. Eric was reviewing some technical information as well. These are good signs of mechanical prowess, right? I got the back brake off and we started the motorcycle, but the jerking was still occurring.

This is where the mechanical declined person makes a bad situation worse. My motorcycle has a computer on it that basically does a lot of really cool things. One of the things it does is not start if there is a problem with your brakes. In all my tinkering, I had, probably, most likely, broke my calipers. Now my motorcycle would not even start. So, we were stranded in the middle of Bruna, Texas, twenty minutes from Beaumont on a Sunday. We had luckily packed some sandwiches and snacks.

We tried calling motorcycle shops in Beaumont on Sunday, the day before Labor Day. Yes, nothing was open. We started calling friends and family to see if we could get someone with a truck and/or trailer to come and pick us up. However, an idea was born- rent a U-haul to strap both bikes in it and drive back home. U-haul was open, which was promising. Eric called the 1-800 number to rent a truck. They had a truck large enough to fit both our bikes. Things were looking up for us because we could get our bikes together and tow them back for relatively cheap without inconveniencing anybody.

Eric drove to the rental place. They did have a truck large enough, but it wasn't going to be available until 4:45 PM. The shop closed at 5:00 PM. The next day was Labor Day. Things were not looking promising. It was about 10:30 AM, and we had been at the same location for about two to three hours. Waiting there until nearly 5:00 PM for a 'maybe' truck did not sound like a good idea. Honestly, I thought we were up a creek without a paddle or piece of board or a boat.

Cue heavenly music.

The newly minted Mrs. Malatesta's mother and step-father had recently acquired a trailer. They lived about ninety minutes from our current location, and were generous enough to offer to come a pick us up form Nowhere, Texas. I am incredibly grateful for this generous act- seriously. The rest of trip went back without a any problems and we arrived safely back in Baton Rouge well ahead of schedule.

The trip was initially to be a nearly epic 2,000 mile trek through eleven states with a SaddleSore involved. Then it was reduced to getting only a SaddleSore in one day to riding. Finally, it devolved to 220 miles and spending six hours on the side of the road next to a drive-thru beer shop.



Until I ramble on again. . .  


*The aluminum barn was a drive-thru for beer. People would literally drive-thru the middle of the barn and someone would grab them the beer, ice, or snacks that they wanted pay and drive out without ever leaving the coziness of one's car.

The Story of Semkye

On May 24, 2014, Rebecca and I went to her parents house to borrow her dad's truck to haul something that is unimportant to this story. Once at her parents' house we noticed a small, emaciated dog hanging out. Rebecca's dad said, "Rob, take that dog, put her in the truck, take her ten blocks, and drop her off." I said, "Ok," with no intention of dumping her. I picked her up with some trepidation, not knowing how she would react to this human interaction, and brought her to Rebecca's house. Some part of me knew right away that I would be caring for this dog.

I have never owned a dog. Sure, we had two family dogs growing up, but those were more do to my brother's manipulation, than any desire I had for a dog. I'm not saying that he would stroke the air as though he was petting a dog, and say, "It would sure nice to have a dog to pet," to con my parents to his will, but he did. About 3 years ago, after almost attacked by two dogs on a run, I thought, "A dog would be fun to have for some protection." Yet, a fleeting thought is not enough or a good excuse for dog ownership. Over the past three years, the idea has passed through my mind at various instances, but not being in a living space suitable for an animal the idea was dropped. Sometimes everything happens in a way that circumstances allow for an idea to become a reality.

Day 1

For my first outing, I found a sick dog. Yet, she was laid back, sweet, and loved hunting for worms. Initially, I called her Priscilla, but I didn't feel like it fit. We decided to try and find her owners, but the way she looked it seemed unlikely that she had been "lost." I posted on Craigslist, and sent in a form for SPCA lost and found program. The only response from Craigslist was a sweet woman that gave me some tips of how to ensure she is not claimed by someone who would use her as a "bait dog," which, confirmed by my veterinarian is a real thing. She is part of a group that monitor Craigslist to help lost dogs find their homes or good homes and do not become bait dogs for dogfighters.

In the meantime, I needed to name her. I wanted to give her an auspicious name, a name that had meaning and weight. Of course, I couldn't give her a seemingly normal name, but had to go that extra mile into my weird mind. I settled on Semkye. Her name literally means "mind generation" in Tibetan, but more accurately it refers to bodhicitta- the Buddhist idea of developing compassion for the benefit of all living beings. I was extending my compassion to care for this obviously sick dog, and found it very fitting.


Rex is Rebecca's dog for almost 10 years. He is often referred to as, "You Little Shit," in both exasperation and endearment. When I first brought Semkye inside after spraying for fleas, he smelled her crotch to determine her sex- a few too many times if you ask me. He was initially put off by her and wouldn't go within 5 feet of her, but slowly he grew to tolerate her. I daresay in time he would have liked her.

Seriously?!?

I was not able to took her to the veterinary until Tuesday because of Memorial Day. First, they scanned for a microchip that people insert into their dogs to help locate if lost, and Semkye had a microchip. I was at once excited and disappointed. In the two days that we had her, I had become very attached. She would sit next to me so I can pet her, and was very easy going. She felt like "my dog."

The people at the veterinary tried the first company, 24 hours PetWatch and success! The mircrochip she had in her was one of their microchips. The company dialed the two numbers that were on file, and both numbers were disconnected. They had an address, but could not provide me with that information. The company used the address to find a third number to call the owner. An individual did pick up, but denied owning Semkye. At this point, what was clear was Semkye was mine because she had been abandoned.


Next, it was time for examination and to find out how her healthy she was, and what we could do to help her. Dr. Janet Tosh is wonderful and was very helpful, honest with Semkye's condition and the care that was necessary. Semkye had a tremendously bad case of heartworms. The blood test showed lots of larva in the blood stream. This would be an uphill battle. Due to Semkye's weight, or lack there of, she would not survive the rigorous treatment. I was sent home with steroids and antibotics and would return in two weeks.

In that time, I purchased a collar from Etsy, a new posh bed, researched different dog foods, and how to house train a dog. We developed a routine. In the mornings, I would take Semkye and Rex outside, sit down, and wait for them to their business. Since Semkye was not house trained, once she urinated, she would get a treat with her medication in it. Afterwards, we would go inside, and I would pour some canned dog food (she preferred this more to dry), while she was eating, I would make coffee and breakfast. After she was done, I would take my coffee and we would sit outside for a few minutes. Rex walked around urinating on anything that was upright. She would wonder around the yard for a few minutes, than come sit next to me so I could pet her. The medication, Prednisone, would make her urinate often, so outside bathroom time was frequent.

Evenings were similar. I would sit in the backyard with a drink, play on my computer, and she would hunt for worms. We played a little at times as well. As much as she could handle. She was smiling and genuinely looked happy. Maybe that is a projection on my part, but she was moving around more and wagging her tail often.

Two weeks had pass and the she had lost a pound. The veterinarian was worried. She took a couple of X-Rays, and saw that her heart was enlarged most likely due to the heartworms. She referred me to LSU veterinary clinic for possible special procedure that would surgically remove the heartworms, which she would have a better chance than the more traditional procedure. However, she was not a candidate.

Two days later we had some blood work done, and things started to look promising. She had gained almost 2 pounds, was eating often, and had even jumped on the car seat. She was mobile. Dr. Tosh, decided to do a slow kill of the heartworms over the next couple of months. This would give her an opportunity to put some weight on, while ridding her of this awful disease.

Everything seemed encouraging. I ordered her some new treats, special food, and a new toy to teach her how to fetch as she became more healthy. I knew that her life expectancy would be reduced, but believed we had time. She was even barking a few times. These positive signs are the reason why when things started changing it was difficult. Saturday evening she only ate about half her dinner, which was unexpected. I chalked it up to me over feeding her. Sunday morning I knew something was wrong when she would not eat her treat after urinating. She did not eat her food. It was all very disconcerting.

Friends came over for a big season finale party for Game of Thrones. Some wonderful friends bought her some special treats and helped to take her medication. For this I am grateful. Something told me that things were taking a turn for the worse when she was vomiting in the morning. I called Dr. Tosh, and brought her into the clinic first thing in the morning. About an hour later, Dr. Tosh called me an told me her kidneys were failing, her liver was enlarged, and there were toxins filling her body. We did all that we could do for her.

As I am typing this, tears are flowing freely. I walked over to the clinic as it next to my office knowing what was to come next. They brought me in the exam room, and brought her to me. I sat with her on my lap for a few minutes, not allowing myself to cry. She seemed to be in pain. Her breathing was very labored. Anger was piercing through my emotions.

We put her on the table, I stood in front of her, petting her as Dr. Tosh injected her with medication. She breathed slower and slower until her breathing was faint and then it stopped. After checking Semkye's pulse, Dr. Tosh stepped out of the room and I took a few minutes.

As soon as Dr. Tosh stepped out of the room, my heart broke. Semkye was dead. Three days ago, I had hope. I imagined her healthy playing in the backyard, going on walks, and being a little pain in my ass. Now she was lifeless. Part of me wants to find her previous owner and punch him or her in the face. Give them a nice bloody nose.

This is what we have put together: Semkye was about two years old, and around the time when she was born she had a microchip put in her body. Due to the company that was used, the veterinary clinic believes that she was chipped at the SPCA. She had been living on the streets for a long time. Her stage of heartworm advancement was very high and very emaciated.

If the speculation is right, than Semkye was picked up from the SPCA, than later dumped by her owners. If anyone is unable to care for their animal there is an organization to drop them off- the SPCA. Yet, we may never know Semkye's past and what a actually transpired before she found us.

I do take some solace in the fact that Semkye lived a wonderful last three weeks of her life. She was cared for, but above all loved.

How Gaming Helped Me Understand Women

Ok, so this is really a misleading title. I don't understand women, but I learned something through video games that has given me insight into a particular area (not sure if I could be more vague).

To the uninitiated, the title seems like a contradiction. It is not the actually gameplay that has taught me; rather, the purchasing of games that inadvertently provided the lesson. Bare with me as I map this out.

Through various relationships with women, I have often been in the situation where a female feels compelled to show me her newly purchased clothing items. Some situations have been more enticing than others when I've experienced the fashion show (wink, wink nudge, nudge). Through all of these experiences, I have never understood why buying a plethora of clothing on sale that you may or may not use was a good idea. You are still spending as much money as though you bought a few items that you actually really want or need. I have over the years been better in not providing my opinion on this topic, which I erroneously thought was the superior perspective.  

I am a t-shirts, jeans, and sandals guy. I don't understand buying more than is needed. If I need a pair of jeans, I go straight to the section, if there is a sale, good, but otherwise I find my size, take them to the counter, purchase, and go home. None of this buying seeming superfluous items because they are hanging precariously on the sales rack. Just because you bought a clothing item at a drastically reduced price does not mean it has any more significance/potential because you know Goodwill or Salvation Army are going to get it near enough to brand-new because of your sale-purchase.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

I will concede that I have spent a lot of time show shopping before for a new pair of motorcycle boots. Yet, it is playing video games on my PC that the interesting parallel can be drawn. There is a platform called Steam that is a digital distributor of video games. You sign up for free, and can purchase games that are strictly digital downloads- no hard copies to loose or damage. You download the application on any computer, sign in, and your library is at your disposal to download. Steam has sales regularly. On top of this revolving sales, there are the seasonal sale. Hundreds of games are up to ninety percent off regular price. . We are not talking about the boring or bad games that no one really wants; rather, many titles that I did not want to pay the $60 when it was first released. During the seasonal sales, I have to stay away because I will scroll through and fill up my virtual cart. 

As of this writing I have 87 games via digital download. I have approximately six games downloaded to my PC and one game downloaded to my Mac. I generally play one to two games a week, usually the same games for an extended period of time. I now know how women feel when they see a clothing sale. There is something compelling about spending less and getting more items. The problem is it pulls you in and next thing you know you are blowing loads of cash for a bunch of stuff you don't necessary need.

One evening after a particular over indulgent purchase, I realized the connection. Instead of a significant other, I have to communicate with Madlaugher of my most recent purchases. After listing my most recent 'gets,' I realized that this is no different than the various women that have had to tell me about their clothing purchases. I started laughing- a lot. So thank you video games, Steam, Humble Bundle, GoG, you have enlightened me on an area of female activity that I was previously ignorant.

Until I ramble on again. . . 

An Adventure in Two Parts: Part 2 Shoe Shopping

For Part 1 of this adventure, go here. 

After 615 miles (this is only an approximation as I did not have any of my mileage counters on), late starts, and Atlanta traffic, we arrived to a luxurious setting in the foothills of the Appalachian. Mr. Fred and Ms. Pat, Eric's father and step-mother respectively, provided us with a delightful home cooked meal, beer, and beds to sleep (fluffy, cloudesque beds).

When I awoke in the morning, I was initially confused. I slept so soundly and was basking in the lap of luxury that I did not where I was or if I was still dreaming. A part of me was half expecting/hoping a beautiful women to murmur next to me to ensure that I was sleeping/dreaming. With a slight sense of disappointment, I hopped out of bed and bounded upstairs hoping to witness the grandeur of the rolling hills outside of Mr. Fred and Ms. Pat's home.

The rain that we had hoped to avoid on Saturday was rolling in and across the hills. Overcast, a mist of rain, and fog seemed to be the forecast for the entire day. The 30% precipitation predicted was 100% in effect. My childlike optimism was not abated by what some would consider "bad" or "dire" conditions. I rode along Blue Ridge Parkway in slightly worse conditions this summer (see post here). I have been feeling more confident in my riding abilities and believed with care the day would provide safe, clean, wet fun.

The plan was to go through North and South Carolina by way of various winding roads. This was actually a last minute change as we were planning of heading to the famed Dragon's Tail, which was the impetus to this adventure. However, with the conditions as they were we thought it best not to attempt such a challenging road.

Eric loaded up his GPS with a different route and we were off.

The roads were fun, but at some point Eric should have turned left and turned right, or vice versa. Nevertheless, we ended up doing a large three hour circle that brought us to Dahlonega, GA, about 15 minutes from our start point in Big Canoe. Unsure of exactly where we need to go, we ventured to find appropriate directions.

Through a series of probing inquiries, we ascertained the geographic coordinates of an establishment that could provide pertinent information. In other words, we walked into a boutique and they told us to go to the local motorcycle shop.

What started as a 10 minute information gathering session turned into two hours of "should I buy the Sidi Charger, which they have in my size, or wait and order the Sidi Adventure Rain. Decisions, decisions. . . I mean on the one hand the Adventure Rain. . . " Side information: Sidi is a brand of Italian motorcycle shoes. They are high quality shoes. I'm sure I mentioned they are Italian shoes. At some point, I pulled Eric aside and made him listen to my pro-con list. I have never cared about clothing in my entire life. I spent most of my life in jeans, various t-shirts, and sandals. Yet, I become an indecisive prima donna when shopping for motorcycle shoes.

Once I got the shoe shopping out of my system (I ended up not buying the shoes that day), and realized that I had wasted hours, we made a plan. Essentially, Eric's wrong turn prevented us from entering North Carolina, and my shoe shopping prevented us from entering South Carolina. With our limited time, we decided to find some lively roads in and around the area.

I took the lead when we left Riders Hill. Coming up on a section of road that we knew would be difficult, traffic came to a standstill. There was an accident ahead of us. It was bad, but did not appear to be fatal. Eric pulled up next to me and I could see fear and anxiety mingling in his eyes, which would be apt in this situation. He stated that he was nervous, but would follow me if I wanted to continue. There was a moment that I thought it might be wise to turn around and head safely back to the storage unit to the cozy confines of our accommodations.

Yet, I had no real intentions of turning back and wanted to conquer the fear that was brewing in my chest. I wanted to dig down, find that nagging fear, kick it in its proverbial testicles, and later drink a scotch in celebration of vanquishing my foe. Lads and Lasses, I enjoyed the hell out of some scotch later that night.

Epilogue Bullet Points

- I slept so well that night. Shoe shopping and motorcycle riding wears a person out.
- I headed back Monday, solo.
- I completely circumvented Atlanta, GA
- I traveled approximately 1,600 miles in total

Until I ramble on again. . .

P.S. Eric has been recording our trips on his GoPro. He posted a video that is a collection of photos taken every 10 seconds or so from the side of his motorcycle. You can watch the video here, and see our riding conditions.