"Is 7:30 too early?"
"To be where?"
"70 and 32."
Hmmm, dinner at a decent hour with Lefty and an early bedtime...
"Nope, that works."
Of course the evening didn't go the way I'd anticipated, but that's par for the course. I foolishly cling to the idea that plans actually map out future blocks of time allowing one to plan finite, serial units of time in order that one can have order in one's life. Which is not to say that I didn't have a great evening, just that my delusion of control continues.
Well, I was up on time, showered and starting to pack up when I realized that nothing was where it should be. I'd cleaned up a bit before I left for Scotland and had just gotten back 4 days ago and hadn't really settled in again since my return.
I couldn't find *anything*. I was losing time and getting frazzled. I finally found the Passport book for the National Parks, grabbed both pairs of gloves, rain gear, tracker, phone, camera, and a handful of other stuff and it only took 4 trips back into the house from the garage. I put 2 different gloves on, cuz now I couldn't find the mates, texted Charles to let him know I might be 10 minutes late, and jumped on the bike.
On 83, wasting no time in getting to my meeting place, I catch movement in the side view mirror. It took not a second to realize that it was my headset that just took a leap. As I pull over I'm thinking about all of the things that were in that pocket on top of the headset that should have been holding it down.
Nyooooooohhhh! Top compartment is wide open and there's seven cents in the bottom. What did I shove in there before leaving? My phone. Crap! Were any of my chargers in there? Sunglasses. ugh. Oh, hell, was my camera case in there? DAMMIT. My camera, SD cards, and several rechargeable batteries. Was my gps in there? Sigh. Well, gee. I can't go looking for all of it. I have to meet someone...and no phone to let him know I'm definitely gonna be 10 mins late now. I'd felt something brush my right leg twice since the garage and the first one was close to home. Was that my stuff falling out of the pocket? Nope, gotta go. I get on the bike and run off to the park and ride where Charles was waiting.
So, quietly bemoaning the loss of my electronics, I follow Charles on a fantastic ride into Harper's Ferry and we stop for a lovely breakfast. We backtrack 2 miles to get another Park Stamp for the Master Tourer Challenge at Harper's Ferry. I resist the chorus of voices reminding me how very close we are to Charlestown Races and Slots and am rewarded with a run thru part of Skyline Drive. Beautiful! Plus...another park for the Passport book. All I had to do was ride. Charles had a plan and the address for Dr. Dave's and he done good. Passing postcard worthy scenery I only thought about how many pieces my phone might be in when I got stuck behind the Blue Hairs. If I'd had my camera...
About 5 hours and half a mile of gravel after we left, we get to Dr. Dave's. Dr. Dave and Lisa are gracious hosts and took great care of us. Hoagy and some of the guys had arrived the day before and others showed throughout the afternoon. I wish I could post pix of the bikes and riders, but, well...ya know.
There were lots of stories and much eyeing of hardware. (I got good advice on modifying the Valkyrie I'll be getting.) Good food, laughter and SUNSHINE! I think I have finally gotten rid of the chill from Scotland.
Around 5, those of us not staying for the night said goodbye and headed out. I followed Charles to familiar territory and, just after going our separate ways, I got stuck in hideous DC beltway traffic. HIDEOUS! I might as well have been coming home from a job during Tuesday rush hour. I never saw a reason for the miles and miles of 0-15 mph. It took FOREVER to get to 29, where I could escape 495 and know my way home. I had no where to be, but it'd been a long day and I was hoping to get back home with enough light to scan the road for plastic shards.
With the sky a pale blue and a bright waxing moon, I turned around at my street and headed out again in the footsteps of the morning ride. Nothing between home and 83. Nothing on 83 as I rode up to the spot where I'd seen the headset jump to it's death, but as I slowed, holy crap sandwich there was my shredded camera pouch.
I pulled over and walked back on the shoulder looking at the camera case on the pavement and the trail of modern art that used to capture memories. No phone. No gps. No glasses or headset, but I collected the case and the pieces hoping that in the still zippered outer pouch the SD cards might have survived.
I haven't put the sd cards in the computer yet, it's way past my bedtime and I'd like to entertain my optimism for the evening. So, tomorrow. Tomorrow, I try the SD cards. Tomorrow, I'll call Sprint and see if they treat me any better this time than last time I needed customer service. I'll start looking at new phones, and try to remember what else was in that pocket. Tomorrow, the girls and I are going out for a ride and I'll be sure to use a different pocket.