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50 States, Day 227

50 States West Memphis, AR to Nashville, TN  237 miles
"The miracle is this -- the more we share, the more we have."
~Leonard Nimoy
We rode to Nashville. It was cold and clear. So...
I decided to change it up a bit and do an interview with the bike-get another perspective of the trip. Here it is, uncensored:

Kevin P.:     ​ Thanks for agreeing to the interview. First, tell us about ​​yourself.
Gold Wing: ​ I'm a 2010 Honda Gold Wing. I was built in America, the last year we were. Now we're built in Japan. So I             am pretty special.
KP:             How many miles? What color are you?
GW:            ​ Oh, 34,000 miles. And I used to be a gorgeous charcoal grey metallic, but now...
KP:             Go on.
GW:            ​ Well... Now I look like a cheap French prostitute.
KP.            ​ I wouldn't say that. Particularly since you're painted red, white and blue. Very patriotic.
GW:            ​ Okay, a cheap American prosti-
KP:           Now come on! People like your vinyl wrap. They take pictures.
GW:            ​ Oh, sure, they take pictures of hookers too.
KP:            ​ Okay, let's-let's move on here. So you're on an Adventure.
GW:          ​ Yes fifty states in fifty weeks. Kevin and Sherri seem to be enjoying themselves, but I have to pull that beastly trailer.
KP:            ​ You don't like the trailer?
GW:           ​ Oh, please! At the bike shops the other bikes call me 'pickup truck' and ‘Motobago.' And when I'm parked next to a Ford F250, snickers at me and says I'm pulling a mosquito. It's the worst of both worlds, I tell you.
KP:            ​ Seems honorable to take all that gear and haul it around the ​​country.
GW:           ​ Oh really? Have you read the Owner’s Manual? It states, 'weight limit, 350 pounds.' And between you and Sherri-
KP:            ​ Easy there-
GW:           ​ and all that junk you're hauling, I'm about ready to cook my ​​clutch, I tell you.
KP:            ​ Still, it's an enviable life.
GW:           ​ Gold Wings are supposed to be refined, with understated elegance. Look​ at my lines, my fairing; sweeping, subtle beauty. We look like the Beverly Hillbillies. Campgrounds, ​​I tell you. I used to have a great life. Back with Steve, my original owner- 
KP:            ​ Don't go there-
GW:          ​ who rode me only on nice days and waxed me and stored me inside.
KP:            ​ We've stored you inside. At the Rowe's house in Minnesota.
GW:           Oh wow, two days? Three? Look at my plastics, they're fading. You could have at least brought a cover.
KP:            ​ There's no room!
GW:          ​ Oh no? Well you've got room for a steel sewing machine.
KP:            ​ Don't drag Ethel into this.
GW:           ​ I miss Steve.
KP:            ​ Steve Steve Steve. It wasn't so great you know. Face the facts.
GW:           ​What facts?
KP:            ​ Steve left you for a Harley.
GW:           ​ You! He did not.
KP:     ​         He traded you at the dealer in Ames, Iowa. That's where we got you.
GW:      ​         You! You... You keep this up and I'm going to blow a head gasket. It was better with Steve. He bought a full service contract. When was the last time you washed my wheels?
KP:      ​        What?
GW:     ​        They are covered in brake dust. It's shameful. I want Steve back. I want my wheels washed. I want my charcoal grey paint back. I want-
KP:      ​        You want you want you want. What about my needs?
GW:      ​         You need to break out the Mother's.
KP:       ​        Don't bring my mother into this.
GW:       ​        Mother's Aluminum Polish. You are pathetic.
KP:        ​​We don't have time for polish.
GW:       ​​        Oh, no we don't. You're right because we're busy riding in every horrible weather condition, terrible roads, day and night.
KP:​​        Now you're exaggerating. We don't ride nights.
GW:​​        I'll give you that. But we've ridden some. And I tell you, it scares the footpegs off of me, wondering if we'll hit a deer.
KP:​​        Come on, I think you're looking at this trip wrong.
GW:​​        Oh, sure. I'm just supposed to rack up the miles, wear out my bearings, and what? End up in a recycling yard?
KP:​​        You're still young.
GW:​​​        What? These are hard miles. Have you seen my rear fender? Cracked! From the trailer hitch breaking off, for crying out loud! Gouges on the saddlebags...
KP:​​        Oh, here we go. The crash in Colorado.
GW:        ​​It was horrible. Why would you ride me in snow? And then the pickup hit us-
KP:​​        Bumped into us, come on-
GW:​​​        And wouldn't you know it? A Ford F250. I see a Ford pickup now and my tires wobble. I have 3/4 ton Ford nightmares.
KP:​​        Settle down now. Surely you enjoy some aspects of the trip. ​​When we drop the trailer and ride through winding roads, woods on either side.
GW:​​        I'll give you that. But I miss Steve.
KP:​​        Get over the Steve thing.
GW:​​        Maybe... if you'll clean and polish my wheels.
KP:​​        Okay. I didn't know it was so important to you.
GW:​​        You're insensitive.
KP:​​        Okay, this interview is over.
GW:​​       Get some polish. Hurry. And for heaven's sake, get a hair dryer and take off this hideous wrap.



Mel said...

Your relationship with GW (your only source of transportation, by the way) sounds somewhat strained. If the two of you don't talk it out and get on the same page, uh... road soon, you may may want to seek carriage counseling. Good luck with that!

................................ Kevin Parsons said...

Think I better break out the polish, if you know what I mean.