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OK, so I am the last person to get my story in. There are two reasons for my tardiness: 1) I was slowly being dismembered, tentacle by squid tentacle as the time continues to extend past my deadline. This makes it increasingly difficult to write my story. 2) If I waited long enough, everyone else would have there stories posted and I would be able to recall more of the trip. Now where is the Vicoden??? For me, this trip actually started last year. No sooner did Susan and I finish the 1999 Isle of Grits, did we start planning the 2000 Tour de Grits. I don't think we made it out of Georgia last year, before we were talking about coming back next year with reinforcements, to do it all again. There wasn't anything that would stop me from coming back. Well, ALMOST! It all came into question that fateful day in July when I was riding the main event in my head, planning the finish, calculating points and forgetting to focus on my current heat race. True to my anal retentive, over analytical, step by step systematic psychoanalysis of every situation and controlling personality, I forgot to stay focused in the now and was planning the rest of the day, not to mention the upcoming road trips, the rest of the season and even the rest of the year. (Yes, you will also find that, true to form, my thoughts are usually just one long run on sentence).  Barb Racing in Sacramento Needless to say, I grabbed too much front brake (trying to out brake my teammate) and went ass over tea -kettle. It wasn't until the bike landed on top of me that I heard the snap of my collarbone breaking. As a true racer, all I could think of was the points I was losing because I didn't finish the race. Then it dawned on me that I would miss Portland and Ohio. Then I thought, at least I will be good to go for Georgia. That is still 3 months away. (And no, not once did I think about the work I would miss). Well the joke was on me. It was one thing to miss Portland. I was desperately trying to plan a way to make the trip to Portland. I knew I couldn't race (I am not that blonde and stupid), but I didn't want to miss the fun. All the people we met over the years that keep coming back and the new ones that are just getting started. We have established and nurtured some great friendships over the years. Well, reality sank in and common sense prevailed. I thought if I stayed home and rested, at least I would be able to go with Susan to Ohio. Not to race, but at least get out of the house and not go stir crazy. Besides, some of the back East boys would be there. What can I say...racing is about the people and the fun...not the points and trophies. I still had my sights set on Georgia. Couldn't wait to get back to those Georgian mountain roads, and the beautiful fall colors. With Portland down, and Ohio to go, Georgia was getting closer. So off Susan and I went to Ohio. Something like 5000 miles round trip just for a weekend of racing. Well, it was a miracle we both survived the trip. I don't have enough paper/disk space to recount that trip. Suffice it to say...after two blown trailer tires (changed on I-70), an alternator, 2 weld jobs on a trailer hitch that almost completely broke off twice, problems with ethanol fuel, not to even mention no air conditioner in triple digit, humid weather. Despite all that, the trip was worth it. We had a great time and we met some super people in Ohio. The weekend was worth it. I remember the Ohio trip well (as I wasn't on Vicoden yet). Just taking Ibuprophen for my healing bones and the stubborn aching low back and hip pain that I associated with the crash. Nothing unusual about that, nor the fact that I did actually fall out of the motor home. No, we weren't driving and no, Susan didn't push me (although on several occasions, I am sure she wanted to). I am a natural klutz, and not ashamed to admit it. Besides, it keeps the material plentiful when it comes to picking on Bubba. Well, about a week after we got back from Ohio, the pain in my back/hip became a lot worse and I couldn't walk or even sit. So, I start taking my leftover Vicoden. When I couldn't get the pain under control, I started seeing my trip to Georgia jeopardized. After back X-rays, increasing consumption of Vicoden and finally and MRI to confirm two ruptured discs @ L4-5, L5-S1. I was near tears as I told Susan to stop preparing my bike for Georgia. This came just a week before the trip. I would not let myself even consider not riding...I kept telling Susan "Yes, I am going", "Yes, I am riding, just leave my bike for last in case the MRI shows something bad". As a nurse, we are generally very good at telling ourselves "oh, it's nothing", "you are just over reacting", "just wait and see, quit jumping to conclusions". Well, it was very difficult to ignore the blatant signs. I finally had my reality check. But still, as a racer, I'm thinking I can still ride. It is not a 'real' race. It is a leisurely ride through beautiful country. Finally, the Head Squid pulled rank. I admit it, Susan was right. There was no way I could ride. I was miserable. To miss Portland. To not ride in Ohio, I survived that too. But don't take away Georgia. It killed me to go to Georgia and not ride. For one millisecond, I considered not going at all. But who was I to miss out on a great time. I was committed to the trip for several reasons: 1) I still wouldn't miss the annual true grits run for anything 2) I couldn't pass up a road trip with my faithful buddy Susan, occasional companion Rose and newbie roadie Margaret 3) I wanted to see and bench race with the people we met last year at the Grits. You've read enough about our adventure getting too and from Suches. There isn't anything more I can say about the weather, the roads, and the third trailer incident in two months. The warm welcome we got from Britt, GT and the staff at the TWO made all the unpleasantness of the trip forgettable. We were happy to be here and not have to drive for a few days. We were anxious to set up camp at the airport annex of TWO, and just relax.  Bubba relaxing at campground, doing who knows what! Friday night we headed down to the TWO lodge. Everyone fired up the motorcycles for their night ride (all praying the headlights pointed down to the road, instead of up in the trees as ours did last year). I bummed a ride on a Goldwing from Dave, the Beef Jerky Guy. Even though it was a very cush ride (much better than even the thought of piggy backing a ride on Susan's NS), it confirmed the fact that I could barely make it ½ mile on a bike, let alone 75 miles. The food at the lodge was not to be believed.  Bubba in the Chow Line! After we all gorged ourselves, the cook came out and proceeded to run down the menu for Saturday night. Some how, we were all hungry again, mouths watering and anxiously awaiting our next meal. Sheriff Mac's wife, Jean, was gracious enough to give me a ride back to the motor home when it was time to call it a night. As Saturday dawned, more people have arrived. The annex is filling up. After a leisurely start to the day, we spent the morning meeting new people, talking shop, and helping with some minor repairs on peooples bikes. Marcus arrived shortly before noon, and I promptly confiscated the keys to the rental car. Then it came time...a time I was dreading...it was time for a midday ride. It was very hard to see everyone gearing up and ride off without me. Now I know how Phoebe feels when we leave her in the motor home to go play. Thankfully, Rose, Susan, Marcus, and Margaret all came back soon enough. Margaret recounted her first 'street' ride. Like myself, Margaret had never ridden on the street until Suches. Time flew by, and it was time to go down to the TWO lodge for dinner and evening entertainment. The meals again, were awesome. Last years Bluegrass band "Public Domain" came back to play again.  Some fine pickin' Saturday night They sounded even better than last year. We spent time chatting with Jean and Mac, Britt and GT, Connie, Seldon and Pam, Tracy and Frank, Alan, Carol aka 'Skert', Susan Galpin, Don, Jack and a ton of other people. Ben arrived and registration for Sunday began. Somehow, I still manage to register and get my ride sheet, hat and T-shirt. As the night winds down, the crowd dwindling, we head back to the motor home, set the clocks back and fall into bed. Sunday morning is here. Susan is the first one ready and down at the lodge for breakfast. Rose and Marcus follow suit. Then there's Margaret. I guess we forgot to tell the newbie that the trip maps and check point lists needed to be taped to the bike somewhere. Margaret must have all the trust in the world that Rose and Marcus would not lead her astray. Finally, everything was found, secured appropriately and Margaret was on her way to breakfast. I was not far behind in the rental car with cameras in hand. Speedvision look out! I've got a job to do! Breakfast was served. Of course, the traditional grits were on the menu. I, like Susan, have no problem scarffing down breakfast. All I have to do today is take pictures. My stomach is not in knots of excitement like some I know (Margaret, Rose and Marcus). Though it was last year. I was soooooo excited last year. Time for the initiation meeting for the virgins of the grits and then everyone lines up along the side of the road. The fire marshal directs traffic around the buzz of all the YSR's, MB-5's and NSR-50's. Soon everyone is on their way, time cards marked, maps highlighted, grins on faces. After getting shots of almost everyone on the starting line, I decide to head back to the motor home and get the dog. Phoebe deserves a little excitement this year, as she missed out last year. I know she was wishing she had a helmet, a seat belt and some Dramamine as I negotiate the twisty turney roads trying to find the prime location for my picture taking. After about 20 miles into the course from the opposite direction, I am seeing a Cagiva pass. Then an MB-5, and whoops, there goes Susan (head down in a full tuck, with only one thing on her mind...pass everyone before pulling into the TWO lodge). It is a beautiful day to take pictures. Everyone waves and poses for the camera. Rose stops by and tells me what a great time she is having. Marcus and Margaret are not far behind and they wave. I swear I can see Margaret smiling from ear to ear inside her helmet. After a couple rolls of film and several disks, I decide to head back to the lodge. I met up with everyone back at TWO. There were several stragglers yet to come. As we waited for everyone to filter in, we bench raced, laughed, and scratched with our fellow "racers". Soon the time was here; Ben started handing out the awards. I even got one since part of me was with Susan in spirit as she road hard enough for the both of us. After all the awards were handed out, it was time to sadly pack up and head home. With all said and done, we were yet again, already planning next year's trip, "2001 A Grits Odyssey". We still don't know if the boys will be allowed next year, or if it will be another girls only trip. All I know is that come hell or high water, I WILL be riding next year. The trip home has been detailed by the others. There is not much more that I can add. Yes, we all learned how to play the harmonica.  Bubba with her prized Harmonica Sheet Music We even bought a music book when we were stalled outside of Memphis because I realized I was running out of Vicoden and needed a refill before things got desperate and ugly. That was when we all decided to make the most of our delay and stay in Memphis and play down on Beale Street. Good food, good music, and our good buddy Paul.....  Bubba getting a tatto, guess where! .... who ended up doing our tattoos. It was the first tatto for Margaret and I. The rest of the trip was without incident. (Except for a place called the Shack in Amarillo, TX that served our food uncooked...yuck!) Finally, we arrive back at Squid headquarters, safe and sound, early Sunday afternoon. I would like to express my utmost praise and thanks to Rose...Our outstanding, amazing cook. She kept us fed everyday with actually healthy food. It was her commitment to keep us satiated that earned her the "Silver Spoon Award". I thank, Susan, from the bottom of my heart, to have given me the opportunity yet again to travel across the country. And for being our chauffeur 75 % of the time. She kept us safe and sound, and only on occasion, was known to travel outside the white lines and hit the rumble strips or bots dots (Margaret was supposed to keep count and lost track after about a 100 or so). I would like to thank Margaret as well. For being a great travel buddy, canasta partner, and overall someone else that Susan and Rose could pick on and give me a break every now and than. I also appreciate the fact that Margaret took the upper bunk, and left me with the pull out couch. She made my bed every night, and put away my bed every morning. I want to thank everyone for putting up with my fluctuating pain and mood levels. I don't know about everyone else, but I have already have the 2001 Grits Odyssey penned in on my calendar. I suggest that if given the chance, you should go. It is more fun than words can express. Sincerely, Bubba |
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