At the time I pondered getting out of the sport knowing the answer before posing the question, I think it’s a part of my genetic makeup.

Six months into my recovery my wife comes home from work to find me watching one of my home made bike videos wearing a helmet sitting in front of a box fan on high, it was time.

A few weeks later I started walking with 2 canes and figured out how to get on the bike.

One Sunday morning I decided to ride up to visit the local crew. Shifting was a problem since the feet don’t work at all so I would hook the fold of my boot to pull up on the shifter. A couple of times I had to ride along in a lower gear because the leg got tired and unable to shift until I rested it some, but I managed.

On the way out to the meeting point running smoothly along a deserted country road I see a cow running in the ditch on my side of the road with a deputy following in his cruiser.

Future hamburger runs up on the road and is now running right at me, by this time I’m at a complete stop. At about 30 feet the cow finally noticed me and tries to veer off but her hooves slip and she lands heavily on her side sliding toward me. I’m thinking “GREAT, my first day out and I’m going to get taken out by a renegade bovine”.

At a distance too close for comfort she regains her footing and scampers off, whew.

At the meeting place the usual crew is there and happy to see me back in the saddle.

I can’t get off the bike because my canes are still at the house so I say my goodbyes and motor off for the 28 miles to home.

I fabricate a heel/toe shifter and a quiver for my canes, I’m ready for a road trip.

Staying off the interstate I take back roads and it feels good to be back as I motor out of Florida. Central Georgia was hot, I passed a bank showing 105*f and believed every degree of it.

The heat is taking its toll on me and I stop at a local McDonalds to take in some liquids and cool off. The floor had been mopped and one of my canes slipped, down I go like a ton of bricks. Some of the patrons rushed to my aid and I’m back in business.

The heat was unreal and I would have to stop again and drink a couple of quarts of Gatorade.

I carry all my gear up to the second floor on shaky legs and I’m spent.

Cleaning my helmet I notice the padding is going away and needs to be replaced, it survived the crash so it’s probably a good idea any way.

Pulling off my boots I find that I must have had my right foot resting against the exhaust because I have a quarter size hole burnt into the side of it and I remember thinking,

“Damn! I bet that hurts”

Tired of sucking fumes I pull over by a creek to take a break and eat an apple I’d picked up at the last gas stop.

While enjoying the serenity of my surroundings I notice a tour bus on the road.

Something is off here, commercial vehicles are not allowed on the Parkway.

A few miles farther on I find a maintenance depot and pull in to find answers.

I pull up to a table where some workers are having lunch,

“Excuse me, what state am I in?”

“Tennessee” one of them answered.

It seems when I got back on the Parkway after playing musical overlooks I ended up going back south, DOH!

Checking the map I find an alternate route to get around the traffic and back on track. 

Day 3 and I plan an easy day of mountain riding and sight seeing along the BRP.

A couple of hours down the road and what’s that they say about the best laid plans of mice and men?

Rain was on the order of the day. I made my way to Annandale, VA just outside of DC expecting to drop in on a friend for a place to stay that night. He was out of town so off I go in search of a motel. I would travel another 80 miles into Maryland before finding one and renting their last room.

Day 4 and the front has passed leaving behind some nice cool weather for June.

Crossing a pass around Mt Pisgah in Pennsylvania the temperature drops to the lower 50’s, a far cry from my first day. Into New York I make my last gas stop before my destination. I would find out my legs all but shut down when they get cold as the attendant helps me off the ground.

Back on the bike I arrive at the mother-in-law’s house and she gives me a look to let me know she thinks I’m not wrapped too tight.

Time for the return trip.

I get an early start after a hearty breakfast and that same look from the mother-in-law. My new helmet feels a little snug but it should break-in in short order.

Reversing my course and by-passing DC I get a motel in southern Maryland for an uneventful first day.

Skyline Drive is nice but too slow going to make any headway so I get off  in favor of some country 2-lane.

Day 3 I have my saddlebags over the shoulder to load up the bike but stepping down with a load proved to be too much and down I go. By now I have falling, down to a science but I happen to fall on one of my canes and broke it. I can barely walk with two canes so trying it with one is out of the question.

I crawl over to the bike to procure the tool kit. With the tool kit in hand or in teeth I should say, I start the crawl back to the cabin. About this time a woman walks by me shaking her head and uttering something about drug abuse.

Using my pliers I squeeze one half of the cane and shove it into the other. It’s not pretty but it should get me home.

I make it to central Georgia and hold up in a little town called Gray, fitting I thought since I have a friend by the same name.

Southern Georgia I would find rain, then heavy rain, then it got bad.

I got into a rain squall with a strong steady side wind that slowly had me loosing ground pushing me ever closer to the shoulder. The shoulder in this case would consist of 2 feet of slanted dirt before a water filled ditch so I had good incentive to stay away from it.

Leaning against the wind Tweety was holding her own for the most part and after about 5 miles with less than 10 inches of road left before the dirt, the storm abated and all was well again.