Ya'll have most likely been inundated with MITM stories, but tough shit, we just got home a couple of days ago. After 16 days on the road and 5,500 miles later, I have a few thoughts to share. A full road trip report will most likely be posted sometime this winter, when the snow's flyin', and reminiscing warms the soul. 'Sides, DP is doin a bang up job of it so far.

After two years of saving and dreaming about seeing everyone at the MITM, it's over. The reality was incredibly better than my wettest dreams of this event. That's tough to beat, heh, heh. The most overwhelming aspect of the whole trip, was how much fuckin' fun we had. I mean to tell ya, that the worst thang that we experienced, others would kill for.

It felt kinda strange to wake up this morning and *not* have to pack up the pig fucker and head on to the next oasis. Surreal about sums it up. There's something about a nice long road trip that makes home feel so good, but I'm already lookin' forward to the next one. The experience of wakin' up in a different place every mornin' also makes it hard to find the bathroom in the middle of the night. Sorry about pissin in the sink last night hon.

Then there's the camaraderie that comes with spending numerous hours with yer ridin' partners. Ya learn a lot about a person when yer on the road with 'em. My brother slugs/slugettes are simply the best. Our motto for this run was "What's the fuckin' rush?". It proved to be a calming mantra that overcame any sense of urgency with a "let's try that road" kinda attitude.

The weather on this trip...baby shit. We felt like Moses, parting the red sea. Damn near everywhere we went, the clouds fled with their swollen udders intact. There was, of course, one exception to that rule, but we were severely hung over. If anyone doubts our juju, refer to the slug dance around the fire nazi's pit, that effectively kept a tornado at bay. I blame this good fortune on Big Red, for the ride home anyway, thanks Darlin'.

Accommodations ranged from a class 4 hurricane in tents bungied to the bikes, to 5 star no tell motels. Our worst night consisted of being a never ending hour from our destination. This through heavy deer country with carcasses gutted by coyotes ‘n buzzards all along the road. Dusk had long since went to sleep with only our headlights flickering through the night. Just about the time I was ready to pitch my tent in the middle of the fuckin' road, a *motel* sign complete with a flashing vacancy & open sign appeared. The owner even sold us some cold beer since the only store was long since closed. See what I mean?

Rollin' into Mick's Lake campground Thurs. night about dark thirty was like pullin' into the pearly gates. We *made* it without gettin' killed or caught. We made our way to the beer wagon like moths to a street light. I was semi surprised by the sheer number of ya'll already priming the pump. We pitched camp in record time (practice makes perfect ya know), and the fun began. Hugs and handshakes were goin' as fast as the grog. Laughter came from every corner of the camp, smiles were to be the order of the weekend. The fire nazi and I closed down the joint that night...in the traditional Asshole(tm) fashion.

Fri. & Sat. proved to bring more of the same...in spades. My only regret is that we only had four days to play with ya'll. Not enough time to meet everyone, or even spend enough time with those of yas who I was fortunate enough to swap lies with. About now, the name dropping should happen, but I’m not gonna go there. Sure as shit, I'd forget *someone*.

Sun. mornin' came all too soon, finding the slugs moving at an excruciatingly slower than normal speed. Needless to say, we were the last ones out the gate. It was weird leaving the campground with nobody left...was it real, or was I really at home just havin' a better than normal dream? The route home planning session tells me it was indeed real.

The seven days homeward bound were mostly spent on the slab, but we even enjoyed the hell out of that. Especially the day we went a total of 150 miles to get 60 miles up the road, oh well. It turned out for the best weather wise as well. We decided to let Ivan & Chuck be slug free as we passed by their respective abodes, don't wanna wear out the welcome mat ya know.

On our last night we split up with Randy & beemer Ron headin' off through some pretty shit through OR and DP, Big Red & I headin' North towards the Columbia River Gorge. Lookin' in the rear view mirrors and not seeing their headlights took some getting used to, I didn't care for it.

Our last day was spent blissfully blastin' at about 85 mph under sunny blue skies along the river. Actually, I decided to slab it the last 450 miles and DP took the scenic route up around Mt. Rainier. The final parting hugs damn near pulled a tear from my eyeballs (actually it did, but don't tell nobody).

Crossing over the bridge to the Island I call home, I stopped in the same place (different lane) that I stopped at, on the mornin' I headed East, 16 days prior. My reflection of all the miles and smiles was rudely interrupted by a fuckin' car horn behind me. Without hesitation I flipped the sumbitch off, turned on Mr. siren and goosed the Pig Fucker towards home. I think he shit hisself, heh, heh.

When I pulled in the driveway, Jeanne, Amber, Jessica, Teri Lynn, Angela, Cory and a few assorted friends were assembled for the long awaited, return home hugs. Hell, even the dogs had to get some lovin' from Dad. I was home. After a few cold beers and word from DP, Randy & Ron that all were home safe ‘n sound, I could relax and unwind. Fuck that, anyone wanna go for a leetle ride?

Snarl...the "look out Montana, here we come" Asshole(tm)

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Snarl AH#67, BS#37 1937 EL, 1995 FLHTP EKIII Rides with me ...Go Eddie!