This is part of my ‘horry sheet” I got laid off series outlining my motorcycle travels after leaving the phone company back in 2016.
Tucson – what can I say.
While Vatnajökull Iceland is where I want my ashes spread someday, Tucson is where I would live given the choice (or possibly Raleigh NC, but this is about Tucson so stay on target)
Sure, Texas is great – no state income tax, I have a million friends, every day is a nice day for the motorcycle, the girls are unbelievably pretty, and the beer is cold. Living in Texas makes it great to be a man for many, many reasons, I won’t argue that.
Still, Tucson has a way about her … and I was heading to court my old girlfriend who lived there.
It was about ten days of battling snow, rain, dust storms, and yes, a disabled motorcycle pulling a camper with one gear in Roswell NM before I finally hit Tucson.
I was scorched and dehydrated after nearly 17 hours on the road when I spotted ‘Brooklyn Burger and Beer’ off of I-10. Hey, it says Brooklyn Burgers so the burgers must be great right?
And in walks my partner in crime, but neither of us knew it just yet. I had spent the past hour buying everyone drinks, and yakking with anyone willing to put up with the fact my accent makes me unintelligible at times, when this beautiful stranger comes bouncing into the bar.
Ponytail, smile, knows EVERYONE … you know the personality – everyone knows a girl like this.
The people I would meet, would quickly lead to me making a network of friends. I hadn’t forgotten that I crossed a continent on a motorcycle to court my ex, no ma’am, but that would come with time.
After using Tucson as a base for my trips in the months that followed, funny stories would come out.
Things like, no one believed I was living in a tent in the desert far south of the city, or that I really was unemployed and homeless, eating bacon at 3am with the coyotes and pooping in a trench. They only believed it when they saw the pictures on Facebook.
That I spent so much time at the JW Marriot, stealing their Wi-Fi and bathing in the Mens Room, that the staff at the lobby coffee shop, and Hotel Bar eventually believed that I LIVED at the Hotel.
I used to carry firewood on the bike with huge bungees, and damn, it gets cold in the desert when the sun goes down. My neighbors were a pair of mangey looking coyotes who would come into camp and sit by the fire at night. Nothing but the stars, the wind, my book, a good fire, and a couple of hungry carnivores warming up – perfect.
Adrianne (the young girl who worked at Brooklyn) became my best friend quite accidentally. Her first remembrance was that of a stranger, sitting at her bar, who knew all the regulars by name and laughing all afternoon.
We remain in touch now that we live 1000 miles apart – we still drive 8 hours each to simply meet for a steak, travel between cities, and at times, get intentionally lost in abandoned West Texas ghost towns. #Kent
She would lead me to the Territorial, and yet another cast of characters who became family.
And then there was beautiful Susan and that ponytail – and Ron, who drives a race car and wanted to kill me in a parking lot one night. I probably deserved it – sorry Guys! 😀
Tucson gets in your blood I guess – from Mt Lemmon (southernmost ski area in the US), to Davis-Monthan AFB, to being charged by a Javelina on the golf course at 2am, shitfaced, while looking for tarantulas with my ex.
Yes, my ex and I finally spent some good times together, if only for a short few months before deciding ‘meh, we have grown apart’ Que Sera Sera
So, following my spring motorcycle updates (legend suspension pieces, tires, wheel and neck bearings, and custom paint) I will be back for my yearly ‘monsoon run’ in early August.
I pick em well … the monsoon season is exactly what it sounds like … either its 115 degrees on the ground and your skin is being scorched off, or all hell breaks loose with torrential rain, 60mph winds, tornadoes and haboobs
Still, like every year, when I see Rita Rd, I will know I am almost home, and roll off onto Alvernon looking for my Margarita at Brooklyns, before heading to see Jeff and Scott.
It makes my face leak when I think about taking that off ramp (yes, my face leaks sometimes, especially when watching the Iron Giant when he blows up at the end of the movie – gets me every time)
Happy Birthday Jeff (60), and Happy Anniversary (34 years) to you and your beautiful wife – I can’t wait to share your moment in Tucson with Everyone.
See you all in a few months!