You Can Leave Your Hat On

First off a quick nonsecquitor; I just got back from Vegas ! I’m sticking with that enchanting Elvis energy. A holiday in Laughlin didn’t work out for me but I did get to laugh a lot when I saw Spamalot...I worked, walked and shoppedalot. Spamalot is a must-see. It’s a somewhat updated musical (even on Broadway) version of Monty Python’s Holy Grail (for more info http://www.montypythonsspamalot.com ....alright, back to our regularly scheduled program/blog:

Many wear hats to hide their helmet hair. Some sisters are just stylin as they sport scarves and or beenies...but on occasion you might see a cowboy atop someone's curly locks. It ain’t easy packing a hat that isn’t supposed to fold up. Packing heat might be simpler (Renee has bullets and a gun mounted on the side of her Harley but no hat could withstand that).

One day as the GtG ride was near, Renee (the Sol SIster web goddess) sent a notice out for the girlz to send in pictures of themselves in cowboy hats. She wanted us to adorn cowboys hats because she felt it would express our connection to Elvis. She told me the only hat she’d seen on Elvis was a cowboy hat and since the group was going to the South and through country music land it made sense to her.

Memphis is not so much country music but rather rock-a-billy yet I don’t think there is a hat for that. The girlz did ride through Texas and there you can find lots of country music and hats (my sympathies to anybody not into country music who passes through them parts).

I have a nice little hat collection myself. When I think of motorcycle ride trip the hat that come to mind is the Betty Boop police like cap. I did a search on the internet seeking images of Elvis in hats. Google showed me Elvis in a cowboy hat (must have been from one of hs movies) and a bunch of his Army pics, oh and one of him as a baby. Good thing this group isn’t taking a pilgrimage associated with someone who wore a turban as that would have been challenging to pull off.

To see a few of us in cowboy hats you can visit http://solsistersmc.com/events/graceland08/graceland08.html
My photo is from a road trip to Scottsdale, AZ when some of us dressed up in drag as characters from the Okay Corral (more on that flashback in the next blog).

Hats Off to my 3 Amigas

“Independence day” what does it really mean ? Most holidays are spent by most people in America celebrating a day off work and gathering with some friends/family. While I am bummed I am not riding a motorcycle to Laughlin to watch fireworks with my sisters in the wind, I am reflecting on the real inter-dependence that I can rejoice in knowing people can be angels. The real heroes are those who express universal peace and brother/sisterhood.
Trips (life) isn’t so much about getting to a certain destination as it is having the adventure and living a story to share. Motorcycles turn any traveling into an adventure. Having people support and understand your needs in a crisis brings grace and bonding to the circumstance banishing stress. My hat’s off to my three sisters who endured such an adventure at Four Corners.

They were in the true spirit of that freedom and adventure sought after in Easy Rider (classic movie). Jett, Carol, and Kaye found themselves far away from easy city life when Kaye broke her ankle at Four Corners. The logistics of: getting a call out, getting to the nearest hospital (then finding out the surgery needed on Kaye couldn’t be done there as that hospital only treats Native Americans), and going back and forth many miles to get the bikes and car, made for what will be a legend now in the motorcycle community. I think they all deserve a purple heart for what they’ve been through and how they stuck together and handled everything. You can read the details in Jett’s blog
( htt://wrongwayjett.blogspot.com ).

Bikers are a breed of people that traditionally behold freedom and are bound to be angels on the asphalt. Old School bikers may seem scary to the average folk but their loyalty to humanity is beyond any political party, religion, sexual orientation, ethnic heritage, etc. And on this Independence Day I wonder if the new riders, those ones that are now acquiring motorcycles in order to save money on gas will realize the nation of nomads and rebels yet heart centered adventurers they are joining on the interstate of interdependence.

PS-- an interesting and thought provoking yahoo group called Biker’s Independent Party has some ideas on freedom and “progressive politics” for our country. You can check it out at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Bikers_Independent_Party/

PPS- The next blog might be more about actual “hats” so stay tuned-- did Elvis really wear a hat and if so why would he wear a cowboy hat ?

Laughlin -- a Road Less Traveled

You know what they say how to make God laugh...tell him your plans...

I was thinking about going to Sedona to meet up with Sol Sisters (Girlz who had gone to Graceland) then riding to Laughlin with them. I was afraid that if I went to Sedona I might be frustrated when everyone went to eat at McDonald’s.

Red rocks, vortices's, hiking, yoga, swimming holes, good places to eat such as their Indian restaurant, or the Thai place, plus some cool cafes, art gallaries, etc.-- all stuff I usually partake in while in Sedona. I didn’t want to ride all the way there and not get to do some of the things I like to do there. I could ride there on my own lateron in the summer so I decided to conserve my energy and plan to meetup in Laughlin for a relaxing couple days and celebrate the fourth of July. My plan was to ride to Laughlin on the 3rd and meetup with Sol Sisters/GtG (catching up with their itinerary).

Ever since I got home Tuesday June 24th, I’ve been looking forward to getting back on the road again and rejoining the Girlz. A few days ago I sent an email out to the group asking if anybody was willing to let me crash in their room on the fourth. The only hotel with a room still available was $300. so I was hoping for a roommate to come forth. However, the email replies I got back changed everything.

It seems the group had split up and along with the disbanding of the GtG,
the plans for spending 4th of July in Laughlin was abandon as well !
Reading between the lines I can only imagine everyone was getting burnt out and less anxious to follow the designated route; more anxious to go straight home.

I’m always shocked when people decide things and fail to consult me ! The whole world is operating on this level-- hardly anybody consults me before they make plans, change plans, etc. What’s with that ? If only president Bush would have consulted me on certain events.

I’m bummed I am not going to get to celebrate the fourth by meeting up with GtG. This holiday weekend the road to and from Luaghlin shall be less traveled.

Supersize Me -- the Motorcycle Version ?

No, the title doesn’t mean we’re all getting bigger bikes (although that usually happens after awhile). The caption for this blog is a commentary on the fact that GtG seemed to be going to McDonald’s way more then I could have expected. At the McDonald’s in New Mexico I was really beginning to wonder if the documentary that was being done on us was really a sequel to Morgan Spurlock’s movie Super Size Me.

I know a lot of people make a habit of going to McDonald’s when on the road (or even when not) because it is always fast, easy to find and if you’ve been there before you know what you like there (or got used to something there). All these factors enable you to be more in a comfort zone about being in an unfamiliar territory as you try to stay on course on you trek. I get it...but for me, I’m on the road for adventure and experiencing new places that I cannot see at home.

I can always go to a McDonald’s . Actually I pretty much avoid them as there is nothing there for me except on rare occasion I am traveling with others and they wish to stop there-- then if I’m lucky I get the toy from a happy meal !

What I usually do when I ride alone is ask a local where the closest ethnic joint to eat is.
Nowadays just about every town has a mexican and or chinese restaurant. I really like “mom & pop” places as I like knowing where my money is going. Being self employed I have sympathy for small business owners and I appreciate their hard work and unique recipes, atmosphere, and or getting to meet them in person when I eat at their place.

In Dateline we got such royal treatment because the owner/wife of the place saw a bunch of motorcycle women stumbling in from the extreme heat. She offered to soak all our cooling vests (lightweight guilt vests designed to soak up and hold cold water) and bandanas in cold water for us while we ate lunch. She let us park our bikes on the sidewalk so they could be in the shade. The average corporate chain eatery wouldn’t do such things.

I’d rather give my liver a chance to smile at hospitality then be exposed to the smells and ideas of foods I don’t like. I was vegan for awhile and I really feel that it was ideal in many ways but since I had radiation I’ve been eating some cheese as my body is so depleted from the disease and more so the chemo. It is a tough balance; ideals, the planet, survival needs, comfort cravings, the company of others and all their needs.

Back to Morgan Spurlock, I met him a couple years ago. My yoga school and Complementary Medicine center/clinic ( YogaWell & Institute of Progressive Therapies ) had a booth at the Body-Mind-Spirit Expo ( www.bmse.net ) in San Diego. There were lectures and workshops going on and I was the opening act for Morgan. My colleagues and I gave a workshop on yoga therapy just before Morgan gave the keynote address.

I told Morgan he should do a documentary on motorcycling. I was half kidding. Turns out he and his girlfriend Alex (now wife) ride !

At the Roswell Museum

top left = simulation of hands in healing of an alien, top right = model of a spaceship as seen in 1947 in Roswell, bottom left =our wonderful tour guide, bottom right = Jett being kewl next to her bike.

While the Sol Sisters were incredibly silly in the museum, they heard, saw, and contemplated the very credible information that was presented there. The Science Chanel recently filmed a documentary on Roswell and documented some very interesting stuff. There was a professional and scholarly archaeological dig that was done and in that dig was found over 50 pieces of material that cannot be identified as any material possible from this planet.

I wonder if 45 years from now there will be a museum in New York about 911 that can enlighten us about what really happened ? Meanwhile you can visit the website to the Roswell museum and even listen to the 1947 radio broadcast reporting the UFO crash. http://www.roswellufomuseum.com/

Road to Roswell, Day 2 Part 2 (It's a Good day to Ride in the Rain)

At first the rain was light and as the sun was beginning to set a great huge rainbow appeared in the sky. It was a magnificent full arched bow from one end to another. We rode right underneath it and as we passed under it it disappeared. After that the road got a little windy and the deer were strolling across the street.

I dropped from 80/85mph closer to 65/70. Then as we got on a bigger uphill road the wind really kicked up and the 650cc I was on was being pushed around. The fast group behind me passed me up as they were on heavier and more powerful bikes. The rain got more fierce and I was having trouble seeing anything. The chatter of my own teeth due to the cold and dampness kept me alert.

I was drenched. In a few miles I saw the group of riders that passed me and they had pulled over to the only rest stop that seemed to exist. They were putting on their helmets and getting a little shelter but I couldn’t stop to jpin them. My body wouldn’t allow me to stop. There was no reason. I was so wet and cold that stopping would only prolong the discomfort. I thought to myself if one of those ladies were in trouble I had nothing to offer that they weren’t already getting from the others that stopped with them. So, I pressed on.

I hate riding at night in a place I am not familiar with. I hate riding in the rain anytime. I can’t stand being cold and was really missing my heated grips that I have on my Indian. Then I remembered what Lance Armstrong wrote in his book about when he would be racing and encounter a tough hill while already exhausted, He would tell himself that nothing compared to fighting cancer and since he did that he could push through anything . I realized that my suffering the scary winds and heavy water relentlessly hitting me like bullets wasn’t so bad and would only be temporary. I realized that given the choice of having chemo or riding through tough conditions, I made my choice and was happy to be on that road under those circumstances.

I rolled into Roswell and looked for the Best Western. After a bunch of blocks I stopped at a convenience store and through chattering teeth asked the clerk if he knew where the hotel was, He said it was just a couple blocks more, turn left and just before the Denny's.

When I walked out of the store there was a car sitting in the parking lot waiting for me ! A man and his little girl. The father called out to me “excuse me, could you come over here, my daughter doesn’t believe you’re a girl” ! I approached the car and was tempted to say “are you kidding me, you don’t think I’m a girl with this ass?” Instead I was playing it G rated
(after all I was at that moment representing all women riders to some extent), I pulled down my mask and looked at the little darling in the car as I exclaimed “ I am a girl”. The dad said then “you see honey, she’s not only riding a motorcycle but she’s riding in the rain”. To which I further exclaimed “I rode from San Diego, CA...and you can you do anything you want to, being a girl shouldn’t stop you, in fact you might even do things better !”.

After my brief yet nonetheless spontaneous sisterhood civic duty, I hopped on my wet chariot and sailed to Best Western. I swaggered my soaked body into the lobby to check in but the front desk person was occupied. After 15 minutes of standing and shivering, I spotted the bar. I made a beeline for the bar and peeled off my helmet, bandanas, jacket, and gloves. I sat on a barstool and asked the bartender for some hot water ( I often carry a pocket knife and ginger root with me). I made friends with some guys who asked “did you ride a motorcycle in this rain” ? Geez, nothing gets past these folks. I reframed from being sarcastic and once again did my best to represent women bikers in a positive and politiically correct light.

Debbie came in after awhile and said that the front desk had no record of us staying there !
She came in and out and then informed me we were at the wrong hotel ! She discovered the right hotel was down the street, I bid her adieu and let he know that I wasn’t budging. I found a hotel with a bar, jacuzzi, washer & dryer. I was staying put. When I checked in they even let me park my bike by the front door, on the sidewalk where it could dry off under the overhang, It was a good day to ride.

The Road to Roswell-Day 2 part 1

It seemed every time I saw Lilia Saturday night the time for departure kept changing. The last I heard was 8am. In GTG time (the opposite of “dog years”; more akin to space travel where time and space are experienced in a very relative fashion and completely different then on Earth-- which is appropriate since our next destination was Roswell, NM). Not sure when we left but it was well after 8am. It was good riding out of Globe as we went through some rocky yet green mountain roads that wound up and down and around some great canyon views. I road this exact stretch with Sachi when she & I did the ironbutt ride in 2005.
All was well with me until I smelled rain in the air and got a little anxious.

It is monsoon season in NM. I know this because the last time I rode in NM was during my cross country trip of 05 when it rained and hailed on me often (you can read more about that lateron when I post photos and reports from that trip after this thread of GTG is past-- maybe in a couple weeks). I was nervous about getting caught in heavy rain or flash flood in the middle of nowhere and possibly having to ride in the dark and cold.

I think somewhere in Sholow we ended up stopping for lunch...guess where....Mc Donald’s. I really felt like complaining but Lilia pulled out a little toy doll that looked like Yoda and shuffled across the table after being wound up. This gizmo was so amusing to me that it had overridden my frustration about having MickyD’s as a ritual stop. The “happy meal” was actually happy in a token way for me (Lilia gave me the honor of being the toy’s custodian so I put it in my tank bag, in the clear window section so I could see it while riding and smile at how absurd it is for me to feel like a hostage in a place that has “happy meals”.

We get on our way but ended up stopping a few more times that all lasted awhile. We had managed to escape rain but Roswell was still a couple hours away and the day was no longer young. I was worried about nightfall hitting us in the mountain passes and finding ourselves dodging deer as well as wind and a sea of rain. I had a driving need to move on and when I thought I heard Carol say we were staying at the “Best Western” and Jett say that Roswell was straight ahead, I took off channeling my anxiety into being an arrowhead for the rest of the group...that is until rain, wind, darkness and deer did manifest.

Arizona Night 1

Harsh heat of over 110 degrees force a rather long stop at Mc Donald's. Soon after leaving Dateline we were wilting and swooning in the sweltering sun. Most of us were hot enough to want another break so quickly...yet night was not far off. There was debate about waiting out the high temps in favor of riding in the darkness rather then in the relentless rays of the dry heat of the desert. I was getting nervous about waiting so long as we still had far to go and my eyes don't work so well after dark, especially in the middle of nowhere with no street lights. My proposal (just shy of a demand) was to keep moving forward. I felt it better to not loose momentum but instead to press on even if we had to stop every 20 miles to hydrate and stretch. At least we'd be moving closer to our destination instead of camping in Mc Donald's for a few more hours then trying to navigate the night and end up arriving at our hotel in wee hours. We were already kind of burnt out; no need to burn the midnight motor oil.

We finally got back in the saddle and sailed to a meetup place where some Desert Diamonds (an Arizona branch of WITW) were anxiously awaiting our arrival. They escorted us all the way to out hotel in Globe, after another long break or two and a few u-turns to get back on course. We ride well into the evening. We were beat by the time we got to the hotel but we were supported and joined by our Arizona sisters so sleep was not invited for another few hours.

We discover there is a diner across the street that was willing to stay open for us. After checking in, unpacking the bikes, and changing clothes we slothfully assembled in the
lobby to lollygag and pretend to move towards to the diner. I asked who wanted to walk across the street with me; only had one taker. Anita likes to workout and wanted to find a weight room in order to get a little exercise. She was the only one wanting to walk across the street with me. Everyone else waited for a local sister to take them in her truck. I realized that to most bikers "walking distance" equates to only the distance equal to or less then the distance of where they are to their bike.

Anita & I compared talismen. She adorned a medallion of Saint Christopher on one side and a motorcycle on the other. On the same gold chain she also wore a little Buddha. All my jewelry
was symbolic (garnet ring and bracelet for my blood count and chi, moon stone earrings for travel, and most subtle yet notable -- a skull mala bracelet for protection).

At the diner I couldn't see anything vegetarian on the menu. I asked what I might be able to have that is vegetarian. The waitress suggested the Tuscan penne pasta. I looked it up in the menu and read the ingredients. Listed first was chicken. I consider chicken meat so I asked if I could have the pasta without chicken. They made it so. I think it was around midnight by the time we got to bed. Did a mini restorative yoga routine and then slept like a rock dreaming of riding to Roswell.

Itineraries

Above is my itinerary. In bold is the portion I completed. I would like to make Sedona (one of my favorite places of all times that I used to ride to on average once a month) but not sure yet about going there. I do plan on by all means riding to Laughlin, NV.

Above is the itinerary for the Girlz to Graceland. Typically riding 400 miles should take 8-9 hours depending on if there is a lunch break, etc...

I think the two days I rode with the girlz it took 13+ hours to get to our stop-over destination.

Despite over planning, the variables of not only weather (heat, rain, heavy winds, etc.) but the inevitable scattering and socializing of just over a dozen women takes it's toll. A few women line up for the bathroom while others check their blackberry, and some start buying cheeseburgers and or shop for souvenirs. Cycle chicks are powerful yet many still are bound by the seduction of multi-tasking to the point of spacing out on real time and the structure of road time management. I believe once when the videographer was aiming the camera at me when we were scrambling to leave a(nother) Mc Donald's I exclaimed "this group is fearless and fabulous, now if we could all just be on time !".

The Road to WellBeing

top left = hot corvette belonging to the nice couple we met, top right = sist’ahs hanging in the shade, middle left = Anita (my roommate in Globe) & me, middle right = lookout point in the mt.s of AZ., bottom left = Colleen and her biker, bottom right = ready to ride me the peaceful warrior road goddess

Glorious have been the days tagging along with my sister Girlz to Graceland. I left Saturday morning with the girlz and I arrived back home Tuesday evening without them by my side on the highway yet they were and forever will be totally in my heart. I think I will be able to meet up with them next week as they are on their way back but for now I am still on a high from tripping with them on a Le femme fun filled adventure.

I found myself thinking of chemo a lot because my last round sucked and because this week I was on the road versus in the hospital bed. Three weeks ago my last round of chemo was the worst ever. I had a week of vomiting, followed by a week of some diarrhea, then a few days of terrible tiredness and weakness in general. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to make the trip but I was determined to go even if only for a few miles. By the time Saturday came I was feeling good enough to go. So, I showed up at Mc Donald's at 6am to gather with the gilrz and get on with it.

I woke Sunday in Globe, AZ and it felt like a dream to be on the road instead of getting my regularly scheduled chemo dose. I was beginning a break from allopathic treatment just in the nick of time as I barely transitioned from a semi garaged spirit to a biker surfing the interstate.

When I’m riding I do not feel sick. I actually forget for many miles that I have cancer and all the effects fade away. I notice no pain of tumors pressing on nerves and organs in my belly and pelvis. My thoughts and feelings are that of a biker (and yogini) versus a person with a seemingly chronic life threatening condition. Absent on the asphalt is my awareness of being anything less then a vibrant and healthy rider full of well being.

I rode 1800 miles in four days. I might have started out a bit weary however I returned more strong and full of energy then I have had since the end of my last chemo break.

Saturday June 21st. Day 1:
We got a little late out the gate and so the ride began a series of late starts and frequent Mc Donald’s stops ! The heat was intense and fuel stops were almost fainting stops. We took lunch in Dateline and there was our first encounter of strangers treating us like celebrities.

A woman came up to us and said “I just wanted to say I really admire you all...”
Then her husband came over and asked us about our t-shirts “Girlz to Graceland”.
The serendipitous connection sprouted from there.

We learned that the man’s father worked for Elvis, and the man and his wife were great Harley Davidson enthusiasts (their wedding rings were gold motorcycle wheels). The wife had a Dynaglide (one of my favorite models of Harley) that she suffered an accident with that left her in a coma for months. She is miraculously functioning on just one the third of her brain...

The couple was generous as they offered a donation of $100. And this was before they even knew we were on a mission in part to serve the Presely Place charity. When Lilia expressed concern that perhaps the sweet couple was caught up in the moment and that they didn’t have to give so much the man said “Did you see what we’re driving ?”.

They had a snazzy new corvette. Since the wife’s accident they couldn’t ride together anymore so they got a cool car to do road trips in.

I wonder if that would work for me. I often jones for a ride and have had to graciously settle for being a passenger when I cannot muster the strength to ride myself. I miss riding my Indian. Would I be able to substitute a motorcycle with a sports car ? I had a 280Z once and while it was super sleek and sporty it was not a motorcycle. The pirelli tires were precious and gave me plenty of peak experiences on the pavement yet I don’t think four wheels could replace two.

I’d be willing to experiment and see how close it could come. If a rich man or woman would like to donate a corvette to me I would be willing to try it on for size. In reality, I need new boots more these days.

Wake up and Smell the OCD

Woke up this morning in Roswell, NM and had 108 epiphanies. First I worried how could I get the only jeans I have with me (the only jeans that I can actually pour myself into still) dry (rode in steady rain last night and while wet jeans was almost appealing as it might help me stay cool on my ride today-- there is no way to stuff myself in soaked denim), then I thought I better call my Sol Sister Anita back and confirm that I'm in town but at the wrong hotel, next I tried to decide if I could get away with going to the UFO museum and still have time to ride to Tuscon before sunset. My thoughts run about a million miles a second. Finally after deciding to only do a little yoga this morning I realized how foolish it would be to not do what I could to go to the museum and hang with my biker sisters. Even if I only stay for 15 minutes it would be worth it to have to rush on the road. I chose to be a goddess of time management and mantra invocation as I got my jeans dried in the hotel dryer, touched base with Sol Sister hotel, and made it to the museum with little mayhem.

I relished the UFO museum. So much information and documentation it was fascinating. I am glad I went. One less thing to regret. I rode off into what eventually was the sunset and arrived in the Tuscon area (over 400 miles) swiftly. I found a hotel with a jacuzzi and while soaking away tiredness and soreness I noticed something in the sky...is it a bird, a plane. a UFO ? They were bats !

I'm on my way home to San Diego tomorrow and shall post pics and road stories (look for descriptions of riding under huge rainbow, meeting a lovable older couple that we could have chatted for hours about motorcycles and Elvis with, and adventures in heat exhaustion ...maybe I'll even make the multiple McDonalds stops seem to you envious if I can express it all right). My greatest epiphany was I'm alive and feeling well.

Leaving Dodge...not being here now !

It's almost 5:30am and I just got done packing the bike (spent the last 18 minutes on it) ! Supposed ot be meeting the gang at McD's by 6am to bless bikes...

I'm gonna tag a long for 1-2 days at best and come home next week. Instead of getting chemo Monday I'll be on the road somewhere in the southwest on a scooter (borrowing a friends Yamaha since I don't ytrust myself on my Indian until I get mor ein shape and my strength back).

I keep starring at the map and wonder how I'm gonna pull this off...I do feel better (finally) but I'm out of shape and haven't ridden more then a few miles since 2006...the heat and rain might be hard on me...I'll try not to push myself yet that is one of the glories of long distance ride.

never thought I'd be riding a Yamaha...or meet anybody at McD's.....

Ghost Riders

The last ironbutt I did was in 2006 with some of my Sol Sisters.  Somewhere in the desert, around 900 miles of continuous riding, some of us started to have a kind of group hallucination (for lack of a better word) of other riders on the road with us.  The vision of other riders seemed to be part of overtime on the road with no sleep but it also seemed to be something super real versus surreal.  It was a vision quest of sorts.  The riders we saw were not of this dimension but perhaps one of the other 10 dimensions that science claims must exist.  It was reassuring rather then scary.

The spirits of a universal realm of riders we carry with us on the road.  In our hearts and on the highway.  We ride the edge of life and expand our connections to a consciousness that is anything but complacent.  We pave a place of compassion over fear.  

Even when we ride solo we are never really alone.  We can tap into the energy of trailblazers before us and our sisters and brothers in the wind where ever they be.  For these reasons I actually feel safer on a motorcycle then in a cage/car ( and wearing a skull mask doesn't hurt as it might scare off malevolent forces mapped out in our minds or the outward mingling of big vehicles and less aware drivers, not to mention the possible bad weather and forces of nature.      

"Is this the real life or is it just fantasy ?  Call it a landslide, escape from reality.  Open your eyes and look up to the skies and see: I'm just a poor girl.  I need no sympathy...any way the wind blows, it doesn't really matter to me...."

The above is to some extent part of the lyrics from Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody.  I like a good rap just like the next girl but sometimes my waking dreams are not as great as my unconscious ones...and yet sometimes they are better.  I like what the late great psychologist Carl Jung said about Paramahansa Yogananda's book, the classic Autobiography of a Yogi.  Jung said it offered "undreamed of possibilities".

The wonderful thing about a road trip is that it is a grand adventure and often the most precious parts we are most proud of are those ones that were totally unpredictable.  May the Graceland trip be full of divine interventions for the band of road divas.  

VraVaVroom Viva Las Vegas

"What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas". So, according to this proverbial policy I cannot say much of anything about what happened while there.  It is no secret that I & my sisters love Elvis and most of us dressed up like him.  Hopefully none of my sisters care that I posted the pics.  The fun is always so infectious when we get together.

Deb & I dressed up as Priscilla ( I was masquerading as the virgin bride).  We sang Elvis tunes...a lot.  I remember Kathy & I ordering Chinese take out while others had pizza....and I've a vague recollection of walking miles for Indian food.  Then, my mind's a fog about going in a gay bar and trying to pole dance (in moto boots no less ! ).

I so wish I was getting to go all the way to Graceland with the GTG (Girlz to Graceland).  I can be a brat but I am grateful I did go when I had the chance a couple of years ago as it affirms you gotta go after what you want given the chance. You never know if it cold be your last.  I am so happy my sisters are going finally and I shall be with them in spirit (just like Elvis is always with us).

My Last Trip to Graceland...

Behind the Gates of Graceland

It was a detour, a spontaneous little cycle side trek, really. I was staying with photographer
Hank Somma (more coming later on him and how I was one of his models for a Harley project he did) who lives in Georgia, near Marietta where he had a spectacular exhibit of his work in summer of 2006. I had been attending the American Motorcycle Association convention geared towards women and held in Athens, Georgia about 90 miles away. On a motorcycle, a 400 and something mile ride is just considered the scenic route. Maybe it was riding in Hank’s convertible, or the retro music playing on the stereo, or just the sirens of the streets calling to me -- I’ve always had an affinity for Elvis, ever since I was drawn like a magnet to buy a record of his at a garage sale when I was 6 years old, so it didn’t take much to make me get up at 4am and head out to Memphis one morning.

I was thinking a lot of Sol Sisters because earlier in the year we took a trip to Vegas. We rode to what we call Winter Nationals which is a convention for WITW held twice a year (winter and summer) each time hosted by a different chapter. The theme was Rock N Roll so almost all of us dressed up as Elvis (each a representing Elvis in a different phase of his reign). Deb and myself dressed up like Priscilla. I was wishing my sisters/Elvises were with me on the way to Graceland.

Many people I chatted with along the way warned me that I’d be disappointed but nothing could be further from the truth. For me the town of Memphis and Graceland itself were larger then life and I was anything but disappointed. I’ve seen pics from Graceland on TV yet still to stand on patch of Earth (and funky dated carpet) that the King lived on was miraculous. I've been to some of the wonders of the world (Taj Mahal, Machu Pichu, Grand Canyon to name a few) and while they were are all magnificent Graceland had a “whole lotta hunk of love” and human quality to it whereas the rest of the wonders I’ve been to were a different kind of humanity experienced, a different timelessness altogether. I think Graceland actually preserves part of a culture more and on a personal level. Peru and India are quite amazing but I have no face or outstanding psyche to put with the wonderful landscape from ancient times. Elvis is a legend and Graceland connects you to a time when he was alive and how music influences us forever.

what's on your plate ?

Two things that might define you: 1) what you have on your dinner plate on a regular basis, 2) what you say if you have personalized a license plate. You are what you eat and drive to a certain extent ! As you can see in the above photo my plate say "GODDUSS". There are a few different ways to look at it; A) God/us, B) GODDESS, C) GOD DOES...when my smart but somewhat clueless father first saw my plates he said "what the hell does "Go Duss"mean !

So far everyone else gets it.

As for your dinner plate, that is an even more personal thing but I can tell you that I've found while on the road I tend to grab a pack of peanuts (because they are a complete protein and having some fat last awhile) and lots of water (Fiji and SmartWater are my preferences). A lot of bicyclists like bananas. Peanut butter & banana-- sounds like an Elvis snack to me; just fry it up on the engine and we're good to go.

note: the photo is part of the Hank Somma collection (I'll write more about that later).

In Case of my Coma (and or Death); an Advanced Directive for an Asphalt Angel

When I finally had enough courage (and no shame) I started telling some people I know that I had cancer. I'd usually blurt something out like "I was recently diagnosed with cancer...it's stage IV...but I don't plan on dying, yet I think I'm going to be busy getting burned and poisoned for awhile". I was flooded with questions that were often too overwhelming to handle as I was still in shock myself and sorting through the confusing maze of mixed messages from the allopathic medical system. When I had surgery to implant a port-a-cath (a device in my chest that serves as a port for my chemo infusions) I was asked by a nurse if I had an Advanced Directive. I realized I really needed one. The thought of being hooked up to machines in a hospital bed the rest of my life because nobody had a record of what my wishes were horrified me (ever see the movie Million Dollar Baby ? I understand how Hilary Swank felt when she pleaded with Clint Eastwood to to put her out of her misery). So I immediately took inventory of myself and my closest friends who might be willing to be responsible (and tenacious enough) to be my agent.

I had a conversation with my dear friend Rhonda about being my spiritual and worldly assistant in the event I can no longer speak for myself due to medical complications. I was clear about not wanting to be dependent on machines, or be a vegetable...then Rhonda wanted more specific clarity as she asked "exactly how many days/weeks/months shall I wait to pull the plug ?". She was pinning me down for details I hadn't thought about nor wanted to think about but she deserved to have an answer.

So, here's the deal (Directive):

1) If I am in a coma or otherwise incapacitated and cannot speak for myself then I demand the following protocol. In less then 54 hours carry out these instructions:

A) Contact as many bikers as you can (start with Sol Sisters and then let the word out via the biker goddess grapevine).

B) Invite all these motorcycle enthusiasts to ride their bikes past my hospital/hospice/home bed as close as possible so that the thunder of their engines roar near me as they roll by.

C) If I don't snap out of it by the 54th hour...then pull the plug ! I figure if my spirit doesn't get called back here from hearing those pipe then I'm gone. If cannot kick a tire then I'm kicking the bucket.

2) If I die:

A) Cremate me after saving any physical body parts possible to donate (skin ? wonder who will get my dragon tattoo..and my affinity for Indian food, dark chocolate, and addiction to blueberry smoothies).

B) Scatter my ashes on a motobike run along several points of the same route taken when some of my Sol Sisters kidnapped me one day and we all played hookie. It was a perfect sojourn from my home in east county to Idyllwild for lunch...tea stop & a break from the heat at Starbucks...sunset at the beach.

On the Road in Memphis @ a fuel stop Yoga Photo

Photo of K.Lee & her Indian from her 2006 cross country trip. At a fuel stop in Memphis doing King Dancer on the way to see the King's crib...it takes grace to make it to Graceland ! For more info and photos featuring this pose see posts below....

Queen Bee Dancer for the King

"Queen Bee" is slang that can mean many things usually indicating a female leader type with magnetic confidence and alluring charisma. She is often attractive and intelligent with a good social life. Although it can be applied as a derogative term, it can be used to emphasize the powerful yet positive qualities of some alpha females.

It used to be the label "biker" conjured up mostly images of what is now known as the "1%ers" (outlaw gang members). Today bikers, like many powerful women, are more mainstream and diverse. The Queen Bee can be a gusty gal yet not a bully, just as a biker can be an adventurous rider without picking fights when in a bar. The Sol Sisters epitomize all the positive qualities of bikers and queen bees (I wouldn't be surprised if one day "sol sister" becomes a definitive phrase referring to a woman who is super creative and capable, especially in a cooperative group).

Elvis is the eternal King of R & B. In yoga asana (physical postures) practice there is a pose called "King Dancer" ("Natarajasana" in Sanskrit). This posture is a most excellent pose for motorcycle riders to practice consistently because it is a quick way to open up and relieve the hip flexors and chest & shoulders. King Dancer pose is an ideal exercise for extremely busy, hyper-responsible, and accomplished women in the wind or anyone who sits or rides a lot. Enclosed in this blog are posts of examples of this pose including various people and their bikes in Natarajasana. You can see how a motorcycle can be incorporated as a yoga prop while on the road to Graceland....and or within the grace of anywhere you make a stress busting stretch break as part of your daily life journey.

King Dancer Pose for All- 4 pics

top left = Kelly; aerobics instructor & motor racer, top right = Nancy; yoga teacher/construction worker & Ninja rider, bottom left = Gary; chiropractor/bartender/spin instructor, kayak and overall sports maniac with a Yamaha Warrior, bottom right = CHP officer with his BMW  (these photos demonstrate the BikerYoga pose featured in above post/blog entry.

Queen Bee Dancer for the King

"Queen Bee" is slang that can mean many things usually indicating a female leader type with magnetic confidence and alluring charisma. She is often attractive and intelligent with a good social life. Although it can be applied as a derogative term, it can be used to emphasize the powerful yet positive qualities of some alpha females.

It used to be the label "biker" conjured up mostly images of what is now known as "the 1%er's" (outlaw gang members). Today bikers, like many powerful women, are more mainstream and diverse. The Queen Bee can be a gusty gal yet not a bully, just as a biker can be an adventurous rider without picking fights when in a bar. The Sol Sisters epitomize all the positive qualities of bikers and queen bees (I wouldn't be surprised if one day "sol sister" becomes a definitive phrase referring to a woman who is super creative and capable, especially in a cooperative group).

Elvis is the eternal King of R & B. In yoga asana (physical postures) practice there is a pose called "King Dancer" ("Natarajasana" in sanskrit). This posture is an excellent pose for motorcycle riders to practice consistently because it is a quick way to open up the hip flexors and chest & shoulders.King Dancer pose is an ideal exercise for extremely busy, hyper-responsible, and accomplished women in the wind or anyone who sits or rides a lot.Enclosed in this post are some misc. photos of people practicing Natarajasana with their bikes showing various ways to incorporate into the road to Graceland and or within the grace of anywhere you make a stress busting stretch part of your daily life journey.

Native Alien the POEM

Under the moon I do lie
Naked as a star in the midnight sky
Covered by no one's hands
Washed Away like the morning sands

Dreams I've had I cannot tell
while wandering through a spell
Into the wind I must fly
ask for not the reasons why

Poisonous touch my soul aflame
never so much my heart untame
High above a mountain ridge
the gaps of my spirit I cannot bridge

I feel a future might be mine--
but not until the end of time
Racing into the rays of the Sun
within the sanctuary of Shadows I do run.

Preface; what this blog will be about

I'm the queen bee of potential & procrastination ! I meant to start this blog 1-2 years ago after being diagnosed with cancer but it never quite got off the ground. I have a ton of files and notes but couldn't decide how up close and personal I was willing to share or exactly what direction(s) to take. Now, that my clan (Sol Sisters, the San Diego chapter of Women in the Wind- motorcycle club) is making a trek to Graceland I've decided to finally throw something out there.

I'm going to try to tie in my love and therapy of yoga & motorcycles with tagging along for part of the Girlz of Graceland trip and how it is all part of my journey of battling cancer. My quest is to not just survive but to really be able to thrive. I will strive to create a sense of intimacy from the interstate and the internet and any place in between. I enjoy heartfelt connections with people in many ways so please don't hesitate to contact me and or make a comment. I cannot promise how much or how fast I'll get back to you but in the meantime I do hope to at least entertain you a little with tales of hardtails, softtails, critters with tails, and occasional pics and poems.

My identity seems to reinvent itself daily. In fact during the last couple of years I've shapeshifted; I've gone from a fit athletic figure with luscious long hair tickling my hips...to a chubby chick with hair that is shorter but perhaps softer than that of a kitten. Some days I appear super healthy while other days I can't even muster the energy to get out of bed or get dressed. At this moment I'm off to my office (a Complementary/Holistic Health center) to give an acupuncturist a yoga therapy session to help her heal her broken leg. I'm a queen bee dedicated to Elvis and everything good.