Well, I’m in Gettysburg, PA getting ready to visit the Gettysburg Battlefield over the next few days. Been watching Gettysburg (1993) to get psyched up and in the proper mood.
While on the road here I got to thinking about images that I have seen on this trip that continue to haunt my soul. Things I just can’t seem to get out of my head. They seem to have a life of their own. I will be riding along and all of a sudden that image pops up out of nowhere and I ponder where that person is now and what perhaps brought them to be in that position I found them in.
The first one was a young man, native American or Spanish that was wearing rather dirty, tattered clothes walking off to the side of the 2 lane highway about 100 feet away all by himself. This was somewhere in Northern Texas. Way out in the boonies, not so far out that I was worried about him but far out enough I thought to myself how or why is this guy walking out here all by himself so far from civilization. I slowed down a bit to catch his eye but he kept looking ahead. The rest of the day I kept thinking about him and I still do. Wherever he is now.
The second one and the most haunting image is of an older woman I met in Tucumcari, New Mexico. She was staying at the motel I was at. I thought she was a guest at first then learned different later. She was somewhere between 75 and 80. She seemed very lively and sharp to me. We spoke of an old Cadillac of hers that she wanted to restore. She spoke also of growing up in Dallas and how she longed to go back home to Dallas. She said she did not care for Tucumcari that much. We spoke for about 20 minutes and she kept up her side of the conversation quite well.
Later that evening the motel owner mentioned to me she saw me speaking with her mother. It seems the older woman was brought there by her daughter to be able to look after her better. The daughter told me her mother suffered from Alzheimer’s. Now that sort of shocked me because I did not pick up on that when I was speaking to her. She seemed very lucid and clear. Then her daughter told me she was not from Dallas. She was from another city in Texas. And other bits and pieces started to fall into place. But the thing I could understand quite clear was that she longed to go home wherever her original home was actually. That impression struck me hard when I spoke to her. Her voice was different when she spoke of her old home. Her eyes were different. It reminded me of someone I knew a long time ago.
The next morning I left the motel and I waved goodbye to her as I pulled out of the parking lot. She waved back. I spent the entire day on the way to Roswell, NM thinking about her. And I still do today. I just can’t her out of my head.
One last thing that haunts me is how different this country has changed from when I grew up in the 60’s and 70’s and from when I last visited the US. I hardly recognize it. I must as well be visiting another planet. This clip below is from 1969. 6 years after my first ride on a motorcycle. My parents would not allow me to see this movie so I had to sneak in to see it with one of my friends that owned a Honda minitrail 70. I think this movie really got me going on motorcycles since shortly after seeing this I got my first minibike and a helmet just like the one Peter Fonda wore. Except mine had a yellow tinted visor.
Ready for a time machine trip back to the 60’s? Click the play button and enjoy!
