invasion of america - from the ashes

The fall has finally overcome the landscape and most of America is wearing their musty smelling coats and last seasons dingy old knit caps again. Most of the leaves have changed if they haven't already fallen, and the fields are almost completely harvested and turned for the coming winter.

Around me on all sides are the memories and visions of what has been this trip; the perfect landscapes, the endless history and landmarks; both personal and shared, the excitement, the chances, the decisions, the disasters, the weather and all of those odd and wonderful faces. Those faces of all the people that helped make this happen or by their very nature - were the trip. These are people that I haven't written about yet. People that have filled in the gaps between the nature sightings, historic landmarks and the mood swings. These people run the gas stations, play in bands, serve the coffee, offer direction or a kind word, lend a hand, tell the stories, express their concern, or they are just trying to get home to see their kids. These people are my friends and my family and everything else in between. It's these faces that have made the trip worthwhile and it's these faces that stick out as the best memory of the trip.

It's been expressed to me by more than one Danist that the tone of my writing has changed a bit from the beginning of the trip till now. It would seem that I am not expressing fully the range of emotion, experience and color that I have in past "Invasion" collections and that the posts are harder to read because it sounds like one disaster or heartache after another. I think you might be right. I won't apologize, I will agree with you, the writing has changed a bit. This trip hasn't been like the other Invasions. This trip has been so much more. As for the writing, well that had to change to accomodate the every present oscillation in emotions. I see more on this trip and I feel more on this trip. The other Invasions were complete tourism and first, and perhaps, once-in-a-lifetime experiences. This tour is more a lesson in memory, history, emotion, and balancing it all together. Yes, the writing has changed, here's why....

How do you tell the whole story? How can I give you the feeling of what I see everyday? It's impossible to give you the complete vision from my visor as much as I would like to. Even when I do think the landscape or the landmark are worthy of a photo, I know that even the little two inch camera screen isn't going to capture the panorama of the complete scene and I'm sure it won't capture the emtion of it. I'm not that great of a photographer and I doubt that I can stuff everything I want you to see on to that tiny little memory card inside the camera. I can't describe to you in enough detail that would satisfy even myself, all the visions, the smells, the textures, the sounds and how they all make me feel. If it were just one day, perhaps I could sit down for a month and give it a go. So how do you write about every single day that you experience, and then sit down and write about them, while you're still having them?! This isn't just one day, it's every day. Every hour. Mile after mile of greatness. There is just no way to write about it and do it at the same time. A film critic doesn't write the critique until the movie's over and they have had time to think about it.

I once wrote in a previous Invasion series, that if you wanted to see what I see or experience what I am experiencing, you have to come see it for yourself. That, even if I wrote a book about the view from just this one spot on the side of a mountain, you would still not get the entire impact of the moment I was in. So the same is true for this trip. I think part of the ache that I feel in my chest and a big part of the laughter that haunts my helmet all day long, is the experience of a stretch of road and knowing how much we would all enjoy it if we wereall here together. I love to show people particular places of interest. I love to visit the past and I like to take people along with me. It's my hope that they will feel the same thing I do when I stand there. The fact that you the reader are not here, tugs at me. A lot. It's hard for me to tell you about this world, I would rather show you. It's this tugging that tears at me all day. I laugh for the joy of it all. I laugh for the sorrow of it all. I laugh for fearing of having to cry over it all. It's more than just a sight to be seen.

I have survived a long and lengthy course. The details of the final two weeks of my journey I will finish when I get home on Monday. Sadly, the journey was interrupted by a major set back, but everything is moderately back on course now. Instead of riding across Nevada and then heading up highway 101 back to Tacoma, I will instead ride north out of Salt Lake and into Idaho. From there it's a straight shot to Tacoma. It's much shorter than the original route by 700 miles, but visually it will be 1,000,000 miles short. I shall be home in less than 12 riding hours. It's time.

The details of New Mexico, Utah, Nevada, California and the ride home will just have to wait until I am safely at home. Forgive me, I want to insure that the final words that I express about this trip are not rushed.