Practicality and Stuff

Waning Gibbous Moon

Tule elk statue, San Luis National Wildlife Refuge, Los Banos, CA.

Prepare to be astounded. Especially if you have known me a long time. Maybe you should take a seat.

I, James Raymond Micheal Ostdick, made a practical decision today based primarily on fact and logic. I drove all the way to Madera (82 miles) in Spugly the Spectacularly Ugly Dream Machine Transporter before I turned around, cancelled my bike trip entirely, and came home.

I had already changed my plans three times because of snow and ice and sub-freezing nighttime temperatures. In the last two weeks, I cancelled my train ticket to Oregon, re-designed the ride as a Bishop, CA to Mojave, CA version, then re-re-designed it to a Lone Pine, CA-Route 66-Death Valley-Lone Pine loop. Finally, as I approached the greater Fresno area, I realized that my cranky, noisy, right knee was not up to a 525 mile ride.

Reasoning:

• All I would be able to do is to drive the route and ride a little bit each day out and back to the truck just for fun. 
• My humble tax return would all but disappear on the gasoline bill alone. 
• I have seen all these places a dozen times and as cool as they truly are, I don't want to rumble past them in my truck. 
• I should probably see an orthopedist and find out what kind of awful thing I did to my arthritic joint on my walk across the country two years ago. 
• I should get it fixed if possible. 
• I should not punish it any further.

Okay, sports fans, actually, as  you have probably surmised, especially if you are among those sitting down, all the above bullet points are B.S. They are all true, don't get me wrong, but none of that stuff or anything like that has ever stopped me before, right? What made me turn around was something else entirely. What made me turn around was a king-size portion of holy-guacamole, non-practical, illogical, factless, scary-ass, voodoo-chile, gut-wrenching, head-shrinking DREAD of going one more mile forward. Seriously, I got fricken SPOOKED. A little voice inside the inside of my brain told me in no uncertain terms to turn my ass around. And I did. Yessir. Yas'm.

Was it my ancestors? Some would say yes. Will I ever find out for sure why? Who knows.

Peace, Love, and Home for Now,
Jim