The Grind

It’s been a while now since I’ve been on the road, and today I got started around 7am in order to get some miles under my belt in order to have more days to explore the southwest. I had a few thoughts running through my mind as I rode through Tennessee, but now, they’re all gone. I had high hopes for Memphis. Even with Covid, I was hoping for a good outdoor place to hang my hat for a while, have a coffee, and look around, but… nothing. Dead. I had a weird muffin and a cup of coffee and got back on the road. So long.

Indeed.

Here’s the thing: I had a good feeling in Tennessee. I liked the state for no particular reason, but as I passed through some rural towns, I felt like it’s maybe not doing so good. I completely bypassed Nashville, and that may have changed my impression. I hope to visit Nashville after Covid. Regardless, on my way to Memphis, I passed many vacant storefronts, steakhouses, and pubs, and they’re all empty now. Like I could see back in time, when this place was alive, but it felt like towns were scattered across the state like carcasses, left to just return to dust. I saw a man on his riding mower, dealing with at least an acre of land next to his small house, next to a small town. The grind.

The landscape shimmers across time like the flesh of an octopus, changing color as society evolves, dying and being reborn, but still, the man on his mower rides on, week after week. The grind.

When you reduce life to the monotony of things, it can feel like there’s no point. And there isn’t, unless you make one. I’m learning how important it is to create your own meaning, and really prioritize it; if not this, then why live at all?

After Memphis, I rode west through Arkansas, trying to get at least 500 miles done today. I hate Arkansas. It smells funny. Tennessee smells wonderful, like sorghum, motor oil, and fabric, and wet dog, but the pleasant kind. I love it. There are rivers and waterfalls. Then there’s Arkansas. I don’t know why, but it just turned sour. How can it be that states are so different? The lines are drawn relatively arbitrarily, but there’s a difference. I’m here in Mountain Home, AR, and honestly, I’m glad to be off the road. I hear from here west, through the Ozarks, things get better, so I’m going to rest up and start off with higher hopes.

A few other updates: I saw another motorcyclist from California loaded up with camping gear leaving Memphis! Nonplussed, I waved at him, but he seemed like he couldn’t care less about me. What are the odds? I wonder where he went. Also, while I did take the month off work, a couple things are nagging me while I’m out here: first, it’s performance review time, so I’ve got to spend more time in hotels making sure I make progress on that so it doesn’t swamp me when I get back, and second, I agreed to stay connected to a project that only requires an hour or so of my time per week. I’m grateful that I can be involved still from the road, it’s kind of a miracle, but at the same time, I’m ever so grumpy that I need to think about work at all. It’s an extremely gentle reminder that I’m so, so privileged. Gratitude is everything.

So today was a grind for me. I’m somewhere, hoping to be elsewhere, but I’m glad that I have the opportunity to be anywhere at all.