Misadventure – The Other Side of Freedom
Posted on 15. Sep, 2011 by admin in Guest Articles, Gypsy Bikers
By Michelle Hope
A good tarp is a vital necessity for the gypsy traveler. It can be what determines a warm comfortable night, or a nightmare. What most of us don’t know when we first start out camping, is that only a GOOD tent will stave off the rain and then only when it is new. With a good tarp, it can be raining like Niagara Falls and you still crawl into a dry bed and sleep securely.
My own tarp was well worn from last year, not to mention it was always too small and stretching it over bike and tent took a new strategy for each camping situation. Times of sudden rain were a hectic race that I usually lost. Well, since I hadn’t had to use my own tarp the past few months I thought I could still get away with this old one. Replacing it was inevitable, but that wasn’t going to happen today.
The Asheville chapter of ABATE had thrown a magnificent party in Hot
Springs, NC. It rained pretty hard the night before and the sky was still a bit threatening. The campground was near empty as most revelers had already left, and at 20 bucks a night to sleep on free earth, it was time for me to go too. I lingered a bit longer to let my stuff dry as much as possible before packing it all on my bike.
Where to go was easy, my bike registration was about to expire and Kansas
required my presence to renew it. So off I went with insurance proof in hand.
With skies still threatening and a tarp-deficiency that had already contributed to a dampened sleeping arrangement, I rambled on. Last year, on my way to Sturgis I rode breathlessly through beautiful Tennessee sojourning only as far as Hickman across 
the Kentucky state line, where I ecstatically ferried my Honda Shadow across the Mississippi River into Missouri. This year I wanted to see a bit more of Kentucky. So that was my Kansas route. I’d take my
time, ride the hills; experience the people, places and roads of Kentucky. I was looking forward to the wind, freedom and adventure, like so many other wonderful rides. Awesome, I was on my way.
In Tennessee, I found an old abandoned drive-in theater to camp next to. By the looks of the place it had been left for dead a 
long time ago, it was nature’s show place now. Cool, this was home for the night. Not ready to settle in just yet I road around a bit. After all, part of the beauty of this life is the people I encounter along the way. I made some quick friends, instant quick cause their hotel was just telling them they had 2.5 hours to get there or loose their reservation and get charged a no-show fee, the cost of luxury. Too bad for them cause they wanted to talk to me, a real-life gypsy chick. I was grateful that my own simple lifestyle granted me flexibility to maximize opportunities and that my activities weren’t dictated by some hotel rules.
I decided to turn in early, so I returned to my drive-in home for the night. Speaking of rules, nature has her own… I had enough time to put my tent up, when here came the rain hard and heavy. It is hard to convey the catastrophic event that unfolded but I’ll try. The place I chose was nestled between two buildings, no problem. This strategy was easy, I would pitch my tent and if it looked like rain I would string my fucked-up tarp between the two buildings, covering both my tent and my bike, although it leaked it was better than nothing, and my tent cover was still new enough that it would do the rest. Well this was certainly not how it turned out. Not in this barrage of water.
I was in the midst of an ominous cloudburst that could surely make me sick, and it did. Add to that the fact that mosquitoes don’t give a shit how hard it is raining. If they are hungry enough, they fuckin’ bite. Actually I think they bite harder, faster and more frequently in a heavy downpour. So there I was, slashing around trying to get a tarp over us (my bike, my tent, and me) tangled in some thorny ass vines, swatting mosquitoes, and soaking wet. Tears were inevitable. Sleep came slowly, and I spent a lot of the night itching and scratching my many new bumps.
Yes, another new day, bringing the possibility of better things.
Sick of being wet, when it began to rain again on this day I kept on riding. Fuck this I was getting outta here. Soaked to the core and cold as hell I finally found my way back into the sunshine and right through the tunnel to Kentucky. Cold and tired from the previous night’s events, I settled in near a truck stop where a highly coveted hot shower awaited.
Gypsy life requires that I find a place to sleep along the road every night. The next night, I found a wonderful old abandoned house, with amenities such as total seclusion for my naked pleasure, and a covered patio in case of rain, perfect! Little did I know that this was the Hong Kong of the tick kingdom. I could swear they were dropping off the ceiling of my beloved patio. In my mind it was raining ticks! So I was swatting ticks, and 
setting up my tent and picking ticks off and setting up my tent and freakin out about ticks and setting up my tent. It was too late in the day to leave now and inside my tent promised a sanctuary from this unbelievable horde of creepy, hungry ticks. The pitter-pattering of what sounded like raining ticks contributed to yet another restless night of sleep.
Yes, another new day, bringing the possibility of better things.
How wonderful Arkansas is. The people are friendly, the mountains beautiful, the rain… wet.
I saw it coming this time; I set up my tarp on time, before the sky broke loose with an awesome torrential storm, a magnificent light show and crashing thunder. My tarp didn’t keep all the water out but the tent, being relatively new, held its ground pretty good. Still I was now sick, itchy, and questioning my sanity. The next day when the rain took a break, I went on a reconnaissance mission for a better alternative to life under an overstretched, leaking and too-small tarp.
My search revealed an old barn on the property, it was dry and offered a good shelter. As the rain let up a bit I began to move my things to my new dwelling. I set up my tent inside and went back for other things as the rain allowed. The only thing left now was my Shadow.
Dirt, rain, grass and an out of sync clutch to throttle ratio was all it took. She was on her side. Laying there in need of my sick ass to pick her up. So I tried. And that’s when I felt a stabbing pain in my back. I became keenly aware of how NOT to try and pick her up. I tried a few more ways to get her up with no avail. But I couldn’t just leave it there for the next downpour. After a brief indulgence of frantic and defeated tears, I stopped to look over the situation more carefully. I noticed that the crash bars were sinking into the mud, thus not performing their intended function. I’d get the wood I saw in the barn. With the wood in place, giving the crash bar a solid surface, I heaved and hoed and up she went.
Go figure, by now the rain was letting up and I could pack up and go, but there was no way in hell I was going to. Itchy, cold, sick and now injured, I was staying the night right there in that barn.
I spent the day reading a book by Tom Brown (a world renowned wilderness survivalist) this was hard for me ‘cause he is all in love with mother nature and I wasn’t getting along well with her, in fact we were in a downright argument at the moment. Ticks continued to appear on the outside of my tent and I derived great pleasure in decapitating their little heads with my instruments of death, tweezers and nail clippers (sorry Tom). Now, somewhere, unbeknownst to me I had tangled with some poison ivy. Which, by the way, was letting me know it now. In my gypsy world this old barn became my healing sanctuary. Especially after being raped by mosquitoes, assaulted by ticks, soaked by rain, stabbed by thorns, poison Ivy occupied, back injured… did I miss anything? It provided the shelter I needed to dry out.
I needed a tarp that is all there is to it, the barn wasn’t goin with me. I wasn’t getting away with using that old tarp. I would go ahead and get a Mother Fuckin’ (sorry mom) 26-dollar industrial strength large tarp.
Still… A new day, bringing the possibility of better things.
Except for the occasional odd quirks of the driving sect and the purchase of a new tarp, the morning was uneventful. The landscape was beautiful and I wanted to experience the ride, I wanted to encounter the presence of the road god. “That’s it, I am going to enjoy my ride, forget the past few days. I am determining to experience the beauty and the Zen and the moment, dammit, like that Virginia highway!” Of course that didn’t happen, it isn’t possible to re-experience such things or change the present experience to fit one’s own desires. The moment happens in whatever you are experiencing right now. Back to the road I realized I was following a little to close behind the car in front of me. I fell back farther and relaxed into this moment, the moment behind the quirky driver that brakes for road kill.
Later in the day I had no idea why I pulled into a gas station that was selling gas at $4.35 a gallon. Maybe it was the Ducati that was getting its tank filled. The guy filling it noticed my packed-up bike “Damn,” I thought I had some gear” he said as I passed by to pay-first-before-I-pumped. I answered with my best California attempt at a southern accent “That’s all my worldly possessions raight thair”. With that and for no good reason, he paid for my tank of gas.
… the possibility of better things, the generosity of another human being; the perfect end to a misadventure.
The rest of the day was heavenly. My mismanaged navigation of the day produced for me a fine time, more generosity of the human spirit (in the form of a cup of Starbucks coffee on the house), and a wonderful encounter with the presence of the road god.
Adversity is inescapable; it challenges us to be more than we may know ourselves to be. The other side of freedom could possibly be what provides the heightened sensitivity and appreciation for those magical moments when I become conscious that there is some significant presence looking out for the simple needs of this insignificant gypsy.
Thank you for sharing this adventure with us. stay in the wind!!
Michelle Hope can be reached at facebook/freedomslowlyslave