01-30-04
I had to go through a few hoops to get the bike, but I got it with my name
on the title... And I was ready to go. Edu's mom helped me so much. She was
the one that gave me the power of residency. She allowed me to use her name,
address, and document number as the power giver (or something like that).
I bought it new (0 Kilometers) for a cool
$1690. I wanted a green one, but they only had red left. But red has grown
on me. I have now nicknamed her "la bicha" (the beastess), and she
is a beautiful Honda CG 125cc. Yeah that's right I mean we are talking power
here, 125 cubic centimeters of pure, unbridled gumption. I got a great deal
on it because it is the 2001 model. They still had some left over. But not
very many when I bought mine. There is virtually no difference with the 2004
model except they raised the handle bar a little higher. Bending over builds
character however I am told.
I departed Buenos Aires yesterday evening,
although it seems like much longer ago than that. When you are actually watching
the landscape go by it feels as though you have traveled a great distance.
This phenomenon is much more pronounced when driving the bike, as one has
the sensation of literally being on the road and the lack of a car door or
bus window between the land and you is much like the difference between watching
it on TV and actually doing it. I had really only driven motorcycles during
the weekend class I took to get my license, so this is new to me. I like it.
Also, getting 88 miles per gallon isn't too bad either.
Last
night I stopped at a little pit stop off the road to get some fuel for my stove.
A smiling guy came running up to me and asked if I was heading to Buenos Aires.
I said no, I just came from there. He related to me that he was going to ask
for a lift if I was. I asked him if he had seen my bike. It's the one with all
the shit, I pointed out with a smile to rival his. "I could wear your backpack,"
he offered. As our pointless conversation continued, I thought if I had a more
powerful bike, more space, and was actually heading to Buenos Aires, I would
surely carry this bloke along. But I simply ended that line of thought with
"but I'm not going to Buenos Aires." He quickly asked where I was
from. I told him about my trip. He too had been traveling and was an activist.
His recent travels, and the manner in which they had been realized, was evident
on his weather worn face and extremely skinny body. After a while of chatting
I asked him if he had eaten. He said no. Guessing my intention he told me I
didn't need to buy him food. I flatly stated that he was a comrade and obviously
could use some food. He assured me he was fine. But I insisted and we spent
the night discussing world politics and what needs to change over a hot meal
at the local restaurant. Isierto is a sharp cat and had some good insights,
I would have liked to travel with him. We then pitched our tents and I slept
wonderfully. I awoke to the restaurant's pet parrots shouting "I'm coming"
and doing cat whistles. When I emerged Isierto handed me maté and I took
my drag. We breakfasted with maté, crackers, and good conversation. I
packed the bike, went to buy a couple more bungees, and as I was walking back,
I saw Isierto hopping in the back of a pickup. He saluted me, I in turn gave
him the Argentina sideways thumbs up and wished him luck. I have his email,
so I will write him when I get to a cyber café. That was this morning.
I then took off shortly thereafter. I stopped about an hour later fed up with
the sun. I forgot to bring my sun shade covers for my glasses. I had a remedy.
I had bought contact lenses in Buesnos Aires to play soccer in. I decided to
put those bad boys in and buy some sun glasses. I found some nice shades at
a service station and then headed to the bathroom to put my contacts in for
only the second time in my life. An hour later I emerged from the bathroom with
red eyes, and probably running low on salt. But those irritated eyes contained
contact lenses. The gas station/restaurant attendants gave me a funny looks
as I cried my way over to my helmet. "Contacts," I explained, pointing
to my eyes. "Only the second time" I smirked. Then a gentlemen that
had seen me in the restroom attempting to insert small foreign objects into
my eyes--and had tried to reassure me I could do it again played the encouraging
father, "there you go son, not that bad is it." I agreed out loud,
but privately had not actually made up my mind on that issue. I grabbed my sunglasses,
helmet and split. My plan worked! I could see, and had protection from the sun.
Who could ask for more?
