Back in the Saddle Again; Summer of my 64th year.


It’s been a while since I’ve written in this blog. After my college teaching finished this May, I spent a few weeks in London visiting with my boys, who are absolutely the most wonderful young men in the world (and it makes me cry to think of them so far away!).  I also made the obligatory stop at the London Harley Dealer, the oldest in Europe, to buy a few tee shirts.

Now, I’m researching my latest novel by spending two nights down in Savannah where the novel is set. Here’s a link to my novels: https://www.genepowers.org/

I’m staying at the 1790 Inn, which is an amazing place!  And more so because my great-grandfather built part of the building in the 1800’s and my relatives lived here into the 1950’s. I highly recommend the place. Also, the place is supposed to be haunted.

It was interesting digging out my old travel bag for this trip. I hadn’t used it since last summer. I rummaged through the pockets and found a few receipts: A night at the El Rancho Hotel in Gallup, New Mexico; an oil change at the Harley dealer in Elk, Nevada and a receipt for the Mountain Pine Motel in East Glacier Park, Montana. That was a wild trip to California and up to Montana. I turned the direction of my travels over to God and Fate. When you do that you’re always looking for signs and portents. And you never know where you’ll end up. But when you get there you don’t always get smacked in the face with a mackerel. Sometimes messages from Divine Providence are nonexistent or unclear. Regretfully, on last year’s trip there were no major epiphanies. Bummer.

I’m 64 and ½ years old now and feeling it. Sometimes I forget to put the kickstand up when I ride off. Sometimes I struggle with balancing this 800 pound (362kg; 57 stone.) behemoth and somehow during the year, when I wasn’t looking, someone raised my seat level (because I know I haven’t grown shorter! Grown shorter?). Anyway, it’s getting harder to swing my leg over the seat. But I managed today’s trip of over 300 miles safely.

So tomorrow I’ll be out taking photos and visiting potential sites for the novel. Tonight I was poignantly overwhelmed with the beauty of Savannah, and my memories of the years I spent here (23) with my family. I hope to also run into cousins I hadn’t seen in a while. One thing I have discovered though is that the perfect beer to pair with hot, humid southern  poignancy is a cold draft of Harp lager.

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