01-13-2019, 03:22 AM
I was a student in College - the state of Illinois, city of Naperville. It was a beautiful, warm spring day and, a Friday at that, no more classes. I wanted to head out on a ride and forget about study.
My brother was a student in college in central Illinois: Champagne-Urbana. Now, when I started out that afternoon, my trickster brain had me thinking to just catch some rural roads and country air. I was on my CB 350 in a T-shirt & jeans, running shoes and, this was a "no helmet law" state so . . .
I think, if you go back far enough in my genetic history, there's some residual dinosaur linage.
So, Trickster Brain says to me - he says, "Hey, it's so friggin' lovely out, let's extend the ride. Let's run down to see your brother". Which I do. I was so happy in that sweet air . . . intoxicated some might say. I had a couple of hours peace and happiness under those big, blue skies of the great plains farm land.
Brother is happy to see me. It's a Friday night and we go out and get burgers. We shuffel a while but brother is just like me: way behind in dating mental apparatus so, no parties to go to and no idea where to chase some down.
It's about dusk when I gives him a hug and hops on the bike to head home. It's just beautiful out.
Ya know those little black bowling balls one would turn upside down and a comment floats to the surface? . . . My brain was working like that (consistently, when outside a classroom). The message was, "It's getting really chilly!"
Not long afterward the surfacing message was, "Damn. It's cold!" I stop for coffee - multiple times. -Cue in The Commodors singing, "Once, Twice, Three Times a Dummy."
It was not working so good: hot liquid warming up the internals. The message floating up to the top of my little black ball now said, "Hey, let's get off the freeway and take side roads at lower speed to reduce the wind chill."
I got lost just somewhere outside of greater Chicago which, can be quite a ways out in rural settings. Thought I knew relatively where I was but I managed a disturbing consistency of hitting dead-end roads. During this tour, I crossed great canals, stockyards and dormant farmer's airstrips, disturbed nesting birds and flushed out more than my share of deer & elk. I was so screwed. I added an extra hour to hour and a half to my travel time. Mine was an inland college in a farm state with, generally, a grid-like road system so, no maritime star navigational elective courses in my repertoire to bail me out of this jam I was in.
I made it back to the college house where I was renting a room. I could barely lift a leg to get off the CB; I was so stiff and cold. I went up the steps to the outside porch and managed to manipulate the hands to extract a key and eventually turn the latch. My room was up a flight of stairs but, that looked like way too much effort and, there was this big sofa just a few steps away. I remembered to shut the front door.
I got on that sofa, curled up in a fetal position and passed out, shaking violently. Stronger men than me normally would have passed away in hypothermia during the remainder of that night's passing but, God wanted Mac Donald's to prosper in those early years and, there were so many needy motorcycle dealerships requiring customers . . . and finance companies just starting out in this harsh and sometimes forgiving world.
My brother was a student in college in central Illinois: Champagne-Urbana. Now, when I started out that afternoon, my trickster brain had me thinking to just catch some rural roads and country air. I was on my CB 350 in a T-shirt & jeans, running shoes and, this was a "no helmet law" state so . . .
I think, if you go back far enough in my genetic history, there's some residual dinosaur linage.
So, Trickster Brain says to me - he says, "Hey, it's so friggin' lovely out, let's extend the ride. Let's run down to see your brother". Which I do. I was so happy in that sweet air . . . intoxicated some might say. I had a couple of hours peace and happiness under those big, blue skies of the great plains farm land.
Brother is happy to see me. It's a Friday night and we go out and get burgers. We shuffel a while but brother is just like me: way behind in dating mental apparatus so, no parties to go to and no idea where to chase some down.
It's about dusk when I gives him a hug and hops on the bike to head home. It's just beautiful out.
Ya know those little black bowling balls one would turn upside down and a comment floats to the surface? . . . My brain was working like that (consistently, when outside a classroom). The message was, "It's getting really chilly!"
Not long afterward the surfacing message was, "Damn. It's cold!" I stop for coffee - multiple times. -Cue in The Commodors singing, "Once, Twice, Three Times a Dummy."
It was not working so good: hot liquid warming up the internals. The message floating up to the top of my little black ball now said, "Hey, let's get off the freeway and take side roads at lower speed to reduce the wind chill."
I got lost just somewhere outside of greater Chicago which, can be quite a ways out in rural settings. Thought I knew relatively where I was but I managed a disturbing consistency of hitting dead-end roads. During this tour, I crossed great canals, stockyards and dormant farmer's airstrips, disturbed nesting birds and flushed out more than my share of deer & elk. I was so screwed. I added an extra hour to hour and a half to my travel time. Mine was an inland college in a farm state with, generally, a grid-like road system so, no maritime star navigational elective courses in my repertoire to bail me out of this jam I was in.
I made it back to the college house where I was renting a room. I could barely lift a leg to get off the CB; I was so stiff and cold. I went up the steps to the outside porch and managed to manipulate the hands to extract a key and eventually turn the latch. My room was up a flight of stairs but, that looked like way too much effort and, there was this big sofa just a few steps away. I remembered to shut the front door.
I got on that sofa, curled up in a fetal position and passed out, shaking violently. Stronger men than me normally would have passed away in hypothermia during the remainder of that night's passing but, God wanted Mac Donald's to prosper in those early years and, there were so many needy motorcycle dealerships requiring customers . . . and finance companies just starting out in this harsh and sometimes forgiving world.
