Dia Diez

I am reminded this morning of the first group trip Suzanne and I ever took, to Arkansas, with six or seven other motorcyclists.  The putative leader of the group seemed intent on riding as hard as possible on those great twisty mountain roads, never bothering to hammer home to the others the concept of "ride your own ride," i.e. don't try to keep up with faster riders.  As a result, one fellow went off the road into a country cemetery, but was uninjured, although his brand new motorcycle was broken very badly.  After some milling around the rest of the group headed towards cell service to call the leader's wife, who would bring the truck and trailer.  The leader seemed to have an increased sense of urgency, as well as an excuse to go even faster, and sure enough, a young woman trying to keep up [I should interject here that Suzanne and I were on our ex-Goldwing, a motorcycle of prodigious proportions, which we christened the Queen of the Ozarks, and were proceeding at our usual stately pace] went off a very steep embankment, tumbling down out of sight, again unhurt, but very shaken, and her bike, too, was no longer serviceable. Leader decided all should stay put with the crying, shaking girl, while he rushed off to get cell service to call the wife.  Here I get to my point:  we have two riders down, the leader is an idiot, the whole debacle is his fault, yet still he's issuing directives, whereupon one of the remaining riders turns to me sotto voce, and says, "I don't see why her wreck should ruin the whole day for the rest of us, we ought to be able to ride."  At the time, and still, I thought his attitude selfish, as the girl was sobbing an shaking, clearly in need of solace.

I am reminded of this story because this morning our man Joe awakened with Loose Stool Syndrome, and at best our departure for the border is delayed, at worst, we are stranded in the faded empire of the Imperial Hotel.  I, however, am sympathetic and solicitous of his reduced physical circumstances.   And am happy that I at least have what our English friends call a well formed, firm motion.  Joe is overdosing on Lomotil (Immodium), so perhaps we shall proceed, perhaps not. Either way, one will not hear me mutter sotto voce, "I ain't sick, we got riding to do, leave him for dead."  The Dear Leader is compassionate with his subjects.