“The East is the hearthside of America. Like any home, therefore, it has the defects of its virtues."
Phyllis McGinley
Chapter 10 - Heading East
I tied my pack to the back of the seat. It was bigger than I had realized,
and it looked out of place tied on the Honda. In the pack I carried another
pair of Army boots, a pair of jeans, socks and underwear, T-shirts,
long-john bottoms, sweater, cheap rain gear, wool hat, Army gloves, and two
canteens. I also had a bag with toiletries and such. I wore jeans, Army
boots, a T-shirt and long-john top, and an Army field jacket with liner. I
pulled out the Army gloves; they consisted of wool inserts and leather outer
layer that had a drawstring at the wrist. If it wasn’t too cold I tried to
go with the outer layer only, as wearing both was a little too bulky for me
to use the motorcycle clutch and brake with any dexterity.
I slid my foot over the front of the seat and got ready to go. I fired it up
and made my way out from 3rd and Alvarado and down to the highway where I
finally made my way onto the I-10 east. About five miles from downtown the
highway dips under an overpass and makes a sweeping turn to the left. I
fought the bike as the tires crept off the pavement on the turn; I knew I
would have to be careful and watch how the handling characteristics of the
bike were altered by the large pack tied onto the seat.
It was cool outside, but not unbearable. There was plenty of traffic, and I
kept up a steady pace to put LA and these highways behind me. In about an
hour I was crossing the I-15, left for Vegas and right for San Diego, and
soon started to rise up into San Gorgonio Pass. I stopped for a break and
had coffee and a pastry, and followed that by filling the gas tank and
quickly rolling back out onto I-10. It was windy and cool crossing over the
height of land and I was looking forward to the rest of the day. The sun was
high and I knew it would warm up as I headed east into Arizona, the
traffic-laden mass of LA Basin highways was behind me, and the scenery was
striking. Some people see nothing to appreciate, and they consider the desert
landscapes boring; I, on the other hand, find the deserts enthralling, and
love the space and diversity they present.
I pressed on making good time, and had a hamburger at the Arizona border.
After a short break, I was back on the motor and pressing on for Phoenix. I
thought about Dave, and about staying at his house in Phoenix. That would be
bittersweet I knew, because at the end of that stay, there would follow
another goodbye to someone who had been one of my closest friends.
I realized that I had not really considered any of the deep questions that
needed to be addressed after getting out of the Army. This adventure of
going to school in California was just what we thought it would be, a time
to decompress together. Now, Gerry was gone, and I would soon be saying
goodbye to Dave. I was comforted by the fact that Danny’s house in North
Carolina was attainable and available, but I realized that that was but a
temporary stopover on the way to somewhere as yet unknown. I knew that I
would go up to Connecticut and see the family and friends, and spend some
time there. In some ways I was excited by that prospect, in other ways I
felt as if it would unleash a hornet’s nest of emotions that I did not
necessarily want, or know how, to deal with. A lot had changed since the
young boy had gone off to the Army, and the thought of seeing relations and
friends was both warming and frightening, as if it meant meeting strangers
who had some secret knowledge or hold on me that I was unable to fathom. I
knew then, that going back home would be the nexus of my journey out of the
Army, that what I would do with my life, what it was that I would go on to
become, would be linked to that trip, and that dealing with everything that
would arise out of it was unavoidable, and necessary. That realization was
in itself calming. It made my immediate challenges seem less formidable,
such as getting across the country in winter on my motorcycle. I looked
around at the landscape that surrounded me; I knew intimately that this
motorcycle trip was truly the adventure of a lifetime. Come what may, this
trip would be one of the great undertakings of my life.
As I neared Phoenix the traffic began to increase, and the sun was getting
low behind me. The days were still short. I slowed down because I was tired
and the wind was picking up. Phoenix was not a totally strange place to me;
we had spent a long week here a few months ago. I found the exit without
stopping to look at a map and, after a few more minutes, I was soon pulling
into the driveway of Dave’s home. Dave came out with a smile and a beer, and
I undid my pack from the bike. It was a simple ranch house, but seeing Dave
and the warm glow of the lights within touched my heart. Is there anything
finer than a warm welcome when you are alone and adrift? I locked the bike
in the back and went inside.
For tonight, at least, I was home.