Lebanon, OR -> Medford, OR
I enjoyed a slow morning in Lebanon. James, my friend in Medford, was not going to be off work at 6:30 and he was only 200 miles away. I took breakfast at a small counter in downtown Lebanon. Friendly cooks and friendly service. I took the bike to fill up, an experience I had been dreading. I puled up the the station and the attendant asked, "You got it?" I said yes and ran my card with a sigh of relief. Apparently it is common for attendants to allow motorcyclists to fuel their machines for themselves, in spite of the legislation. I wound down the old highways to today's first stop, Eugene. I found an Indian joint (mediocre) and a bakery (delicious) to kill some time at. After that stop I left for Medford. I quickly ran into a long stretch of traffic which was slow enough to force me between first and neutral. This is annoying enough on any bike but on a Guzzi, my dry clutch was very unhappy. I decided it was time to start splitting lanes. Illegal, yes, but just as illegal as all of the shoulder riding I've seen in this state. It was not long before a man in a pickup saw me, made eye contact, shook his head, and moved over to hug the lane line. To drivers: please do not do this. Yes, I was commiting a crime. Yes, I was aware. No, I am not endangering you. No, it is not your job to enforce traffic laws. If you are lucky, you won't accidentally kill anyone in the name of self-righteousness. This man also didn't realize that blocking a motorcycle with a car is about as effective as trapping a fly with a pasta strainer. I waved at him and moved on.
I arrived in Medford at 5:30, late enough to head straight to James' work and hang out while he closed. The gun shop he works at is unique. I have never been inside of one that didn't feel like a frat house basement from the 70s. This felt more like a craft brewery complete with quirky furniture and lighting. I was pursuing and one of the belts caught my eye, my daily belt has taken a beating over the last few years. Anyway, now I'm wearing a gun belt. Apparently these things don't ever wear out even with a firearm on them. It should last two lifetimes without having to hold a gun. We picked up his girlfriend and went to a brewery with his coworkers. After the stint there, it was off to the county fair. I had passed it on the way in but I did not imagine that I would find myself present. What a wild time. I think that this is the first fair that I have been to since turning 21. Alcohol does make a difference. Less rides and more passing judgment on strangers. I had a marvelous time. After, the requisite late night Taco Bell run, it was time for bed. I'm hoping the evening doesn't make me struggle too hard tomorrow.
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| Kid Rock Played Later |
Gun belts FTW
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