🇺🇸 The Cult of the Motorcycle - SF to Denver - 09.02.2026
On this week’s episode of General Hospital… wait… remember when Denver Health was Denver General? OG at DG! I don’t even know what that means but it sounds cool.
Anyways… my baby food in a bag nutrition treatments are working well. I am supposed to be gaining 1-2 lbs a week… but I’m gaining 1-2 lbs a day. In another two months I’ll be 300 lbs… can you say “irony?” There is something called “refeeding syndrome” and my med team doesn’t want me gaining too much, too soon… but I had a visit yesterday and all is good. I’m certainly happy with it… and looking in the mirror, I no longer look like a sickly Oliver Twist that’s about to blow away in the wind with his empty soup bowl in hand… and nutrients in the system means energy, better cognition, and healing. I still have a long road ahead… but enough of that… time for adventure.
Since I will be in the Denver Metro for 2-6 months… I will need my car… I want my adventure pod near me. Having it sit for months is not good for the vehicle itself. And… I pay for a great gated secure parking space in Ingleside/San Francisco, next to a MUNI stop, and it hurts, it hurts something awful to give it up… but it’s wasted money… wasted snack money. Also… the public transportation in Denver gets a, this sucks—must try harder, grade.
I have two windows of time to get to SF to get my car… or I wait until November. I booked a flight for the first window… United, with miles and card benefits… $5 and 60¢ U.S. one-way… so… if I didn’t feel well… I could live with burning that ticket… but! I woke up the morning of my flight feeling good… not just better… but feeling good. And cool.
My nutrition bags are perishable so I have to pack them with ice in a cooler pack… and bring all of my equipment—lines, syringes, vitamins, meds, alcohol pads, and plastic thingy things… with me… and make it through TSA. In my mind, it would all be a hassle… but it went smooth.
I had paperwork and a formulated verbal excuse… and when I arrived at airport security… I alerted them to having “medical necessary liquids and gear.” And the guy didn’t give one frog and says, “put it on the belt.” The cooler backpack makes it to the end for inspection and dude asks me, “is this game meat?”
I replied, “can you bring game meat on a plane?” The answer is “yes” folks, go crazy if you want.
Dude opens the top of the bag, “oh, these are ice packs.”
I begin to belt out my entire life story, and before I can say three words, he closes up everything and says, “have a nice flight.”
Easy and peasy.
All of this time… and I could have been traveling with game meat. Who knew?
Once I make to San Francisco… it’s routine… take the BART to Balboa Park, Muni M to my car… start driving… 1,253 miles to go. I have a few stops to make… and since it will be awhile before I get to return… I took the extra 40 minutes to visit the Pacific Ocean. Kiss the sea with my feet… heart feels… and then on to pick up my mail in the Mission. Lots of people smiling at me… like a curious amount of smiles. I checked my face in the mirror for boogs in my nose… nothing. Just a smiley day I guess. On to the next.
My storage is in Richmond… which means a trip over the Bay Bridge. There’s always traffic on that thing… I’m relaxed about it… and soon get to the storage yard. I grab some clothes, my camp gear, juicer, hiking boots… but mostly… mostly I am there to bro-hug my motorcycle. 🥰
•
I had been contemplating (heavily) about getting a new moto while I was in Mexico City… for Mexico City. And that lead to an internal debate if I wanted that added responsibility, maintenance, financial burden of having another vehicle in my life. But there’s this thing… I have a “thing,” an obsessive thing, about motorcycles. The Japanese word for this is, “Baiku Otaku.” It’s not just riding… it’s the aesthetic, and mechanics, the sounds, the smells, the symbiotic relationship with… paraphrasing a WWII fighter pilot on the Spitfire… you strap yourself to it… and become a unit. The 1998 show at the Guggenheim, “Art of the Motorcycle” sums up a definitive descriptor for me… it is art.
On and on… and forever he talks about the motorcycles… my thoughts and stories will fill the pages of a short novel. And I have time on my hands to finish that said short novel… so look for it soon at your local library… titled, “Motorcycle Soup” or “The Cult of the Motorcycle.”
As I was contemplating life, and the future, in my Roma Sur apartment in Mexico City… I concluded that, yes… I will have another moto in my life and soon found what I wanted in El Paso, TX. And if it was still there when I passed through El Paso… I would take a look. Just a lil’ look.
I recently sold my two Colorado motorbikes, by proxy… which gave me enough money to cover the El Paso moto… plus extra for accessories. Mmmm… accessories. And now… I own a handsome 2022 BMW GS310 lighweight ADVenture bike, used, like new, with 1,453 miles on it. Oh man, more adventure!
And this is the part of the movie that the people begin to walk out and demand their money back.
•
And I still have 1,230 miles to go… say good bye to my Moto friend. Close the storage door… and go. One drive-by wave to Eme in Sacramento. Stop in Sparks, NV for the night. It’s Reno for all practicality… and a strange place it is, lost in time.
Across the wastelands of Nevada… which wasn’t that bad because it was cloudy and cool with light rains through the entire State.
Next stop was West Wendover… which is on the NV/Utah border… I stayed in a cheap-ass motel on the UT side that has no casinos… uneventful. But… the Bonneville Salt Flats are near… and cool place to visit if you’re “Baiku Otaku.”
One lunch stop in Salt Lake City… I’ve been through a few times. I spent a week in Ogden once, hanging out with OgdenMichelle… there’s much in the way of spectacular landscapes in the area, cool foto ops, hot springs… lower price points in the cost-of-living category… it is a little cult-ish in the name of the supreme being for my tastes… but I like.
I pulled over to a gas station on the outskirts of SLC to fill up my tires that had gone soft in CA (everyone and everything goes soft in California). I walked inside and asked the gal if they had an air pump. “Whaa??”
“Do you have an air pump? You know… chiiiist chiiiist???” I made the universal sound effect for air. You know it… right?
“Tree.” She held up three fingers.
I said, “Where?”
“Tree dollars!” She held up three fingers again.
“No… where is it?!?” Don’t make me say the chiiiist chiiiist sound again.
She replied nervously, “I no speek ingles…”
Awwww… cool… then… “¿donde está?”
I must say… it pleases me… to the highest degree… to be able to communicate with another human being in their language… a language that is different than my own. And the gal looked elated… that some gringo guy… is speaking to her (although poorly) in her language… in a land of native English speakers. And the entire exchange made my day.
I made some small talk and asked a bunch of questions in Spanish… and she seemed pleased as punch to answer all… I had finished up with my tires and returned the air pump thingy (that has no name in English or Spanish) and I thanked her for all… and she replied “gracias a ti… con gusto”
And nope… the pleasure was mine lady.
I’ve driven from SLC to Denver in a straight shot before… but it’s an 8 hour haul… and I don’t like to drive more than 5… and mostly because my ass hurts. I used to have hamburger buns and lots of padding from my hockey days… but now I’m sitting on my tailbone… and at hour number 4 behind the wheel… Yahtzee!
Also… I need to hook up to my baby food bag equipment before dark… so… one last stop in Rock Springs, WY. It’s the gateway to some spectacular nature. The locals are a bit hickish… and that’s my stereotype… but Wyoming folks, like Idaho folks… kinda mind their own business. I stopped in a local joint for dinner snacks, listened to some “drawl” backwoods accents… cool Gen X music on the jukebox… and ate pizza rolls. They were delish.
Conclusion… picking up your car from a faraway parking place… still counts as adventure.
Here’s my photo journal… mostly pics of my suitcase in various stages of my journey.
#chócalas
#themotorcycleboyreigns
