Day 28
Start – 8197.1 km
Finish – 8331.4 km
—————-
134.3 km or 80.6 mi

I’ve fallen somewhat behind on my updates. However, I’m mostly caught up on photos. So let’s go back to Day 28.

Safford to Globe. Waking up in Safford, I took a look at the public shower (not plural) at Roper Lake State Park and decided against it. The park? Beautiful. The shower? Not so much.

An incredibly short and uneventful day. Somewhere along the drive, I became tired of the desert scenery. I became tired of being alone. The people I meet… they are nice interludes in a symphony that is long and tiring in places. But they are there for a minute, and then the lull of their voices is gone. The image of them is gone from my mind. Was it Dave or was it Steve? Did he have a sister or a brother in an institution? Does it matter?

I thought about this trip. I let go of concerning myself with what others thought of my reasons. I’ve let go of their interpretations. And then I pictured Kevin Spacey in American Beauty.

I thought about the fact that I’m driving across this country on a scooter – a 50cc scooter – and the absurdity of it. I wondered about how it was all going to end. This trip. This life. Where would I go? I know that I’ll be in LA for a while, but for how long, I can’t say. Two weeks. Two months. Two days beyond the reunion?

I’ve tossed around in my mind for a while the notion of setting up shop in Costa Rica and flying models in for shoots. It could work. Currently, this notion is the front runner.

I’ve debated following the path of Tommy and heading north to the Redwoods and into Washington State. Maybe go across the northern part of the country. But why?

I love South Beach. It feels like home to me. I frequently question whether I didn’t make a mistake in leaving when I did, though. I’d like to go back. But…

I don’t intend to find (nor am I searching out) some deep inner meaning on this trip. I know myself. I’m comfortable with who I am. There are things which I’d like to change and mentally, I’ve made the hurdles on some of those things on this trip. Trivial things. And while I’m not searching for some magical zen place, I would like to find a place in this world where I fit. A place that fits me. Not necessarily some physical place. Just some place. Some place where external meaning exists.

I would like to find Love.

Words, they climb all over you,
Til they uncover you,
From where you hide.

And in this moment,
I need to be needed,
With this darkness all around me,
I like to be liked,
In this emptiness and fear,
I want to be wanted,

‘Cause I love to be loved,
I love to be loved.

I didn’t set out to find Love on this trip, either. I DID set out to rid myself of the circles in my mind which have kept me from allowing it. It would be nice to experience Love in this life. It would be nice to experience that.

Hm.
That was a little deeper than I intended to dive. And depressing on top. (Sorry about that.)

The question I’ve been asked a lot on this trip, though, and one I don’t have any reason to ask myself (as I know the reasons): Why? And why on a scooter?

On the way to Globe, I stopped in Bylas, an Indian reservation (I believe). On the outskirts of town was a convenience store; this is where I stopped. As I sat outside, an old Indian man appeared. He said he had walked there, but I never saw him coming. We talked for a while. I wanted to ask questions but I didn’t. After a while, he asked me, “Why on a scooter?” I said because it was tortuous. He laughed. Then he looked directly at me and said… well, he said some things. I finished my drink, got up, said goodbye and thanks, and left.

I would tell you what he said, but it’s secret vision quest stuff. (Secret except for those of you in the Secret Vision Quest Club!!! If you have your decoder rings handy, enter X – 2 – F – i -4. Therein lies what the old Indian said.) I can disclose, however, that he did tell me the secret to trans fats and how to manage them.

Honestly, I don’t remember much else of the trip that day. With the exception of the Indian, it was relatively uneventful. I had intended to go all the way to Phoenix, but when I stopped to grab a bit in Globe, I was so exhausted from not getting a good night’s sleep the night before, that when I saw the budget motel across the street, I was done for.

I watched a lot of TV. I watched Cast Away that night, I believe. I realized that Scooter is my Wilson on this journey.

Day 29
Start – 8331.4 km
Finish – 8475.5 km
—————
144.1 km or 86.5 mi

Two things: I was actually in Miami on Friday. Only, it was Miami, Arizona. I didn’t feel at home. I had a burrito for lunch, a decision I would later regret. I took some photos. They didn’t quite have the same feel as the last set of photos I took in Miami. I was glad I saw this desert town. Then I quickly left.

Secondly, somewhere west of Miami and east of Superior, Arizona, the road was entirely desert mountain roads. Steep grades up, steep grades down. And on the climb up, the road was seriously under construction. They let traffic from wherever they started pass on this two-lane road, while our band of merry travelers waited for the Stop sign to turn to a Slow sign. The traffic passed and we sat. And sat.

And sat.

I smoked three cigarettes under the desert sun. I calculated the square root of two. I developed an algorithm for ending world hunger. Then some guy three cars up in an air-conditioned SUV got out to stretch. Asshole. Everything was lost; my mind turned to air conditioning. And cold water, not the hot water in the bottle wedged between the backpack and the seat behind me.

Eventually, they let us go. And here, I would like to apologize to the 268 cars behind me on that long climb. Yes, the speed limit was 25mph in that zone and I was trying my hardest to go that fast, but I couldn’t. I had to get over those mountains just like you, though, and that was the only road.

I was elated when I reached the top. And then the most frightening part of this trip commenced. A 50mph descent on steep grades with a long line of large vehicles behind me, their passengers insulated by doors and windows and airbags and cushions and tons of metal that would barely be scratched by my tiny scooter. As the first steep grade neared it’s end, there was an emergency truck pull off. I took it to rest, collect my wits, and to let the rest of the cars behind me go. The end of that line of vehicles never came.

At some point, a break came and Scooter and I got back on the road, still descending. The next vehicle to appear from behind the curve… to appear behind us… was an 18-wheeler. A killer, not a coma-maker. Certainly on this road. Patches of sand. Loose gravel. I’m fearful of every little thing on this road as another steep grade lies ahead. Thankfully, the trucker stayed back a good distance.

I was flying. When I reached the bottom, I was so glad to have not wiped out or been run over. I realized that I don’t really fear death. I fear lots and lots of pain before death.

I rested in Superior, Arizona. I continued on Highway 60 to Phoenix. I continued on Highway 60 well into where it turned into a 10-lane freeway. After one too many “exit only lanes” foiling my driving into Phoenix, I pulled off and ended up in Gilbert. Or Chandler. Or possibly Mesa. I don’t know. I found a coffee shop and grabbed a coffee.

Went to go find a hotel for the night and Scooter wouldn’t start. OK. It’s hot. Understandable. But he’s been resting a while now? Hm. I wait for a while. An hour later, he won’t start. I push Scooter about a mile to a hotel I had seen as I got off the freeway. I’m thrilled to learn that Lord of War will be on tv later that evening. I work on photos and fall asleep late into the night.

Day 30
No travel.

I find an authorized Kymco dealership in Mesa (where I have spent the night). I check out and hope that Scooter will magically start. He does. Only with lots and lots of smoke. Crap. I begin to think about California and it’s clean air regulations.

I head over to Logan’s Valley Motorcycles. Tell Jeff about the crap oil that I put in the last time I filled. It was all I could find.

“It smells funny, doesn’t it,” I ask.
“Smells like weedeater crap.”

The oil was messing up Scooter. They cleaned him out, gave him good oil, changed the spark plug, and I was ready to go. Great, great guys working there… I was surprised by how inexpensive it was… friendly people. If I lived in the Phoenix area, they would be the place I rely on, no doubt.

Finally get on the road and I haven’t seen Phoenix yet. I haven’t even been in to Phoenix, actually. I’ve been over in Mesa. I begin to head west. I cross a bridge. Scooter cuts out. Damn it.

I call the shop, they send someone out to do a pickup. I know they’re going to be closed Sunday and I hope that it’s something minor that can be easily fixed. After a while, one of the mechanics is out there. He tries some stuff with the scooter. Nothing is working. He stands up, looks….

“You know you’re out of gas?”

Doh! I blame the heat. It’s frickin’ hot here. It’s 4pm by the time I’m riding again. I realize that I’m going to spend another night in Mesa. I go find a cheap hotel and call it a day. So ends 30 days and nights.

Photos here.

Scott’s roadtrip across America is proudly sponsored by Miami Tour Company. For info on the best tours in Miami, visit MiamiTourCompany.com.