The second leg... and a memory.

Facebook reminds us of our past in ways that are charming, poignant, even annoying sometimes. But there is no denying that we can, if we wish, get insight into our past selves. I have been waiting for this day, to talk about the second leg of the Ride Across America, because the idea was sparked one year ago today:

I was on the way to the 50th Anniversary reunion of the Univeristy of Notre Dame's Independent Student newspaper, The Observer. I was only a month and a half post-surgery from TKA, and was still using a cane. I was planning, by this time, on driving a little farther to see Chris Murphy and Elspeth Payne to congratulate them on their engagement, which they had just announced from Ireland. Trump was already in the White House, but it was, from my perspective, still a much simpler time than today. Many things were about to change.

But the reason I remember Maumee (besides an exceptional breakfast at the Bob Evans family restaurant near my hotel: I called Bonnie at a ridiculous hour, because I was torn between Waffle House and Bob Evans', and I needed wisdom. If I didn't already know she is always right, I did that morning.) was a conversation with the young desk clerk at the Maumee Motel 6. I'm afraid I do not remember his name; I think it was Tariq. He was a young, very personable, relatively recent immigrant, whose brother was actually in DC being vetted for a job in telecommunications, if I remember correctly.

What struck me (besides the fact that I was tired, and I needed to take pain meds for my knee) was his overwhelming optimism - in the face of a new president who had been saying all manner of disparaging things about, well, him - he was open-minded: he admitted that he thought the president's stance on Islam and immigration was wrong-headed, but he could understand, he said, where it came from, and he thought that some of Mr. Trump's policies might be good for the economy.

I didn't have a chance to really engage, but I want to, now - now that we are really into this presidency, this new direction, I want to hear what this young man, a legal immigrant, has to say about our direction. I want to find out how living in a small town in Ohio has or hasn't changed from the perspective of a Muslim immigrant. I want to share that with my readers.

So the first stop in the Westward journey will be a return to Maumee, and, I hope, to the Bob Evans restaurant to which my beloved Bonnie steered me that first morning on the road:

The rest of the itinerary follows in the next post. I will be addressing my hopes and plans for the road through the rest of May, and then starting a read-along of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance through June up until I leave.

Remember to share these posts, as I need to try and get as many folk on board before my departure, so that a) I can afford this :-) and b) we can contribute as much to The Tricia Fund as possible.