The travel adventure of 1996 was in January. I scammed a month off from work. That might not seem like a lot of time to people who have civilized jobs, but to us computer folk it's an eternity. My itinary took me to London for a few hours, then on to Bombay. India was a country I had wanted to see for a long time. A wise bulgarian physics professer I knew, and common traveller, told me, "Visit India while you are young, and will survive it." I had no friends there, and no axe to grind. I'm not religious enough to want to visit temples and shrines, I just wanted to get to know the people.
I stuck to the cities. This was somewhat of an error. Although it's hard to travel and avoid cities, I feel that I saw only the thinnest slice of Indian life. Resturants are few as a rule, and the prime mode of the country is the congested countryside. Faces looking at you from every direction. America is one of the least densly populated countries, and others are denser than India, but to me it was one of the strongest memories. I saw Bombay, Hydrabad, Bangalore, Mysore, and Madras. The trip opened my eyes as to what the third world is like. I spent days just browsing through the streets.
Thailand, on the other hand, was much more civilized. More open to the traveller, more happening on an exterior level. Friendly people, great food, warm beaches, but I didn't learn anything. I then stopped in at Tokyo for a few days of business, then finished with a week of Hawaii.
Not exactly in 1996, but I took a trip to Alaska in August, 1993. I flew up to Fairbanks, then took a bushplane up to a village called Anaktuvuk Pass. It's at about 70 degrees north, in the middle of the Barnes range. Other than the Oil Fields, it's the farthest north air strip I could find. From the airstrip, I just started walking east. The nearest road (haul road) was about 100 miles away, other than the village itself, and although there were roads and cars in the villiage, those roads weren't connected to any other roads. Odd thought, in our interconnected world, that a particular road wasn't connected to any other road. They flew cars in.
I spent the days walking. It rained about 2 hours a day, and there was no shelter other than the calf high grass. The mountains rose to 3,000 ft above the valley floors. The sun went down, but remained dusky. I didn't walk too far - one spot was nearly identical to any other spot - but luxuriated in the emptyness. The only moving animals were carabu, which stayed far away, unless they were dead. On the fourth day, there was a huge storm, and it snowed, which I wasn't quite prepared for. I walked back to the villiage, and took the next plane out. I'd love to get back there.
I like motorcycles. There's absolutly nothing like the feeling of speed. Motorcycles are similar to skateboard and surfboards and windsurfers in that the rider is alone. You are perched on this steed, in control of your own destiny. No one else knows what it's like to be on your ride, or in your mind. The cultures around each attract individualists, and promote self worth and self reliance. It's a good thing.
Here's the first motorcycle I owned, a 1962 BMW R60. I ran it for about 2,000 miles, as a fixup project. I tore the engine apart, rebuilt the electrics, updated the tires. Rusty, but rode well. I finally gave up. I'm not a great mechanis, it's too hard to get parts these days, and I wanted to ride, not wrench. The project infected me with that BMW mystique, so I got myself a new one, a 1991 K75s. That was my ride until that fateful day of 7/13/96, when I made a mistake on the freeway, slid, crashed, and burned. It tears your heart to send something you loved to the junkyard; knowing it was your fault.
Cars I've owned have been a 1981 Honda Accord CVCC, which I junked. The new commute ride is a '97 Saturn SW2, red.
Assateague Island is a great place. That's my idea of going to the beach. No houses, no carnival, no readnecks.
Some people I have loved: Ellen, Debbie, Lizard (snow camping in Yosemite), And one almost Amanda and her current husband James. A constant bed-friend was my bear IsaBear, who dumped me a few years ago.
