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.

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.

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.

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.