Tag: travel

Isolate before it’s too late

I was out Ubering today. I picked up a ride into Boston. Southern NH to Boston isn’t a bad ride without traffic. Still, I tend not to take those rides. Uber has a shitty policy on leaving the state. They have no problem sending you over the border. However, they won’t allow you to pick up a ride to get back. In my case, the NH border is 35 miles back before I can get another ride. As a result, I will take one if the money is good, and the traffic is moving. When I got a ride offer at 2 PM I gambled. I made a good call.

My passenger was a guy my age heading into a meeting with friends. He was friendly and talkative. That, combined with flowing traffic, made it a good ride. As I dropped him off, my phone rang. The timing was perfect, as I don’t answer my phone when I have a passenger. It was Wilky, a Masonic Brother, whom I ride with quite a bit. He’s a gentleman’s gentleman. The call caught me off guard because I had never gotten a call from him before. We’ve exchanged texts and FB messages. I was intrigued.

He was just checking in. He was concerned that he hadn’t seen me in a while and wanted to make sure that I was OK. That gave me a real warm and fuzzy feeling. I respect and like Wilky a great deal. But he’s not a part of my immediate circle, for lack of a better term. For him to notice my absence was surprising, but heartwarming nonetheless. I assured him that I was fine, just busy and, after a few minutes, we ended the conversation. As uplifted as I felt at that moment, I also felt bad. I lied to him.

I have been conspicuously absent lately. Sure, I have been busy. But only at fulfilling commitments, of which I have too many at the moment. The fun stuff, the invitation-only and impromptu gatherings, have not been on my calendar. I am not feeling social. I’m overwhelmed emotionally, mentally exhausted, and my anxiety is crippling me. My life has become a series of “Have to’s” instead of “Want to’s”. I have to be where I said I would be and do what I have to. But I want to be on my sofa.
Sadly, I tried to take some time off and stay home. Since I got my own place, I have cherished those days when I stay in and do nothing but relax. That is not the case lately. I have trouble relaxing now. I feel anxious about being lazy. I chastise myself for not leaving the house and go somewhere, anywhere. Even when I have no place to go. When I do go out, I struggle to come up with a plan of what I am going to do. Then I get mad at myself for not being productive. I don’t have a job, where do I have to be?

When I do go out, it’s far too “peopley” for me. I find my love for people isn’t what it usually is. I have been easily annoyed, even driven to anger in traffic and public places. I control it for the most part, but it eats at me. When I act on this anger, as in my regrettable verbal parking lot exchange earlier this week, I feel guilt-ridden. Which only makes me want to isolate more.

I’m the person that nobody worries about because I always show up when I’m needed. I’m the person who says, “I’ve got it,” when I really don’t. People know (think) I’ll always figure it out. I deal with things quietly because I don’t want to let people down. And despite being a person that many come to with problems, I rarely share mine. Sharing will elicit attention. People want to help, I dread the constant offering of support. I don’t want it. I just want a break.

If I am to keep my commitments, my schedule will be mostly full for the next 18 months. I honestly don’t know if I will make it. The urge to just get in my car or on my bike and just fucking GO is overwhelming.

As a person that loves people, I really want to be alone.

Mulligan

I love Golf. It’s a wonderful outdoor activity. It’s good exercise. It’s challenging both mentally and physically. It involves dexterity, precision, and muscle memory. It’s also maddening. Don’t let the Pros on TV fool you. There is nothing harder than to hit a little white ball straight and far. If that isn’t challenging enough, there are obstacles of sand, water and trees to make it more interesting. It’s an unforgiving game in many ways.
Just like life itself.

The key to Golf, unless you’re a professional or in training, is to not take it too seriously. Golf is like sex, you have to do it a lot to be good at it. But people who don’t have sex often still want to be good at it, and the same applies to Golf. There are those who are great at it but don’t take it too seriously. And then there are those who suck and get angry when they reveal said fact. And then there’s everyone in between. The happiest golfer plays to their strengths. They know their limitations. They break down their game into 3 categories. Good swings, bad swings, and Mulligans.

I don’t have to explain the good swing in detail. It’s the one that went where the player wanted it to. It’s the one that makes you come back. Even if the day was otherwise full of bad swings. Bad swings are the ones that don’t live up to our plan. It was either a miss, a slice, a shank, or a dribbler. They are maddening. Sometimes they require a “Mulligan.”

A “Mulligan” is a free swing. A do over. It’s named after a real person. He made a bad shot, and his peers deemed that he could hit it again. While it is not allowed in professional play, the regular “duffer”, or hack player, often utilizes one or more during a round. If the challenges and intricacies of Golf are a metaphor for life, that’s an interesting twist. Golf, unlike life, occasionally allows you a do-over.

I have embraced the Mulligan in life. I have been mercilessly unforgiving of myself for most of my life. I hold myself to a standard that nobody can achieve and the beatings I give myself are also on a next level. But occasionally I think about playing a round with my Son on a beautiful summer day. We’re out playing for the camaraderie. We’re playing to escape the daily grind. We’re only being slightly competitive; mostly, we’re trying to just enjoy the moment that will become a memory. I just hit a bad shot off the tee. It’s the first bad shot of the day, and we’ve been enjoying the close play. My boy tosses me a ball and says, “Do it again”. It’s an allowable do-over. No questions asked. I set up the ball, take a deep breath, and swing. The shot is long and straight, landing and bouncing past my boy’s ball on the fairway. I feel good again, I made good on a mistake.

Life doesn’t allow Mulligans. Every tee shot you take in life needs to be played from wherever it lands. No exceptions. I’ve been hitting out of the woods, behind trees, and out of sand my entire life. Some shots sailed onto the fairway, others fell short or got lost altogether. I can’t erase them. But if I can’t forget about them, at the very least, I can forgive myself for them.

Some days I hit some good shots. Most days I hit a few bad ones. The bad ones have been keeping my mind racing at a frenetic pace. They keep me up at night and ruin otherwise peaceful moments. But each day I get up and swing again. The new day is the Mulligan. It is not a continuation of the last round. If I can remember to look at each day in this vein, my life is sure to get better.

Connection

When I first decided to take advantage of alternate ways to earn extra income I asked around. Ride Share and Food delivery were the unanimous answers. The prospect of either of them sent my anxiety through the roof. But I knew I had to get past that. My benefits allow me to earn up to 12k/yr without penalty. I liken not earning that money to leaving it on the table. It also keeps Social Security Disability (SSDI) off of my back. When you try to earn, SSDI often overlooks your case. They do not find it necessary to do a Medical review and closely examine your ability to work full-time. Not that a medical review would result in an issue for me, my condition is certainly confirmed. But it is a hassle, one that I would rather avoid. And I like to work.

I enrolled in Lyft, Uber, and DoorDash. Uber wouldn’t accept me because my car was ineligible due to age. I decided against Door Dash because I really don’t like handling people’s food. Lyft terrified me because, while I’m a good driver I am bad at directions. I procrastinated for a month (I put the PRO in procrastinate) but finally took the leap. It wasn’t bad once I was used to the Application. It is notorious for being wrong and I dreaded getting grief from riders. As it turns, they are very forgiving and understanding, most of them are aware of the erratic directions and mistakes. I forget sometimes, people are almost never as bad as you expect them to be.

I immediately took to Lyft. I got the hang of the App. I was beginning to earn a respectable part-time income. And I discovered the source of the appeal of giving strangers rides over delivering their food.
Connection.
I crave connection. To those who know me, you are aware that I am not at a loss for friends. My support network is vast. Through Masonry and other activities, I have something that many men my age do not. Did you know that most men over 50, regardless of marital status, have almost no close friends?
Despite my obvious wealth in this department, I can’t meet enough new people. I love it.

Riders are a mixed bag of personalities. In training for Ride Share, we learn to be mindful of topics of conversation while on a fare. We must also be mindful that some people do not talk. This is not ideal for me and my big mouth, but I get it. Many of my passengers get rides every day. They either enjoy the alone time. Alternatively, they don’t want to engage in conversation with an old bald guy with a goatee.
Then there are the ones that talk a little. They are easy to recognize, they choose who they want to engage with. Then there are the ones that talk with you the whole ride. They want to know about you, they want to talk about their day, or simply want to make a connection. I have come to appreciate them all.

Most days that I drive I end the shift tired but energized. The knowledge that some money was made doing something that I enjoy comforts me. It is good for my soul. There are days that I have a memorable passenger with whom I shared a connection. It can go both ways; maybe they helped me, maybe I helped them. Maybe…we helped each other. It makes me feel valued. The kids are grown now. I am out of the workforce. I long for the days when I was needed. I truly believe that sometimes we were meant to meet certain people. Now, I am not suggesting that it’s a privilege to meet me. I am suggesting that sometimes one person is exactly what someone needs at that particular moment in time.

I suspect that you can not get that from dropping off a bag of Taco Bell on someone’s doorstep.

Do it now…Day 2

On day 2, as the farters and snorers began to stir at about 7 AM, I found myself with a decision to make. Do I haul my sleepless ass out of bed and risk major personal injury or illness and go on the ride and get out of the trip what I had hoped or puss out and stay at the motel?

You can catch up here and here.

I chose to go with the guys and make some memories.

After breakfast we put on our gear, warmed up the bikes and headed up Rte 9N, a beautiful scenic road that would take us through our little corner of NY and into the farmlands of VT. The first stretch of road was a long climb followed by a hair-raising downhill full of treacherous curves. My riding buddies were going too fast around the corners for my taste so I took my time. When I came to the bottom I found them at a rest stop taking off their helmets. We socialized with each other, I was still getting to know them and we mingled with other travelers as they pulled in as well. The stop was on Lake George and were all getting pictures when an enormous Military Transport Jet appeared over the lake and gave us a show at not even 1000 feet over the hard deck. It was quite a sight. We buzzed about that for a while and then started traveling again.

The next stop was Fort Ticonderoga, a major landmark which I had never seen before. Then, an hour later we came to Lake Champlain and took a ferry across the lake into VT. I was wiped and found myself sitting on the hard concrete floor of the ferry next to my bike, enjoying the scenery. 30 minutes later we were in VT.

We spent the next 3 hours driving through the most beautiful countryside I have ever seen. Under the canopy of a cloudless sky we weaved through farm country as far as the eye could see. There were barely any cars, quite a few bikes and no people. We stopped for lunch at a cute and very busy roadside burger joint and I slurped down 2 cokes to stay awake. We discussed our route and the boys decided that it would be best for me in my present condition to shave a little off of the trip to give me a break . I was grateful. We soon grabbed the ferry at a different spot and re-crossed Lake Champlain.

The remainder of the ride was challenging. Charlie number 2 and Rick took off when we got to the highway and Charlie and I didn’t want to drive 100 miles per hour so we lost them (or vice versa). We rode 80 miles of highway so remote that the only traffic was trucks hauling grain, feed and oil. We then found Rte 9N again and made our way back. We never did reconnect with Speed Racers 1 and 2 so we took our time. We got back to the hotel just as it turned dark. We went to the bar and sure enough, there they were. We chatted for a while about our 320 total miles and the highlights that we saw but I was fading fast. I decided that I was going to find a motel room in the 5 mile strip of completely booked rooms and get some sleep. At that point I felt as if my life depended on it.

I went to Trivago and found one. It was right down the street and only 92 bucks! I immediately booked the room, told the fellas not to be offended but I needed sleep, and set out. The boardwalk of madness ensured that my 1 mile commute would take 30 minutes but I made it. I went in to find that I had booked for the following week. I asked the cute little Asian attendant if there was anything available. There was, a double at twice the cost. I handed over my credit card and said I’ll take it. Fuck it.

I couldn’t sleep at first. But somehow I scraped out 6 hours and before I knew it I was checking out and meeting the boys for breakfast. Today was to be a bit of a break. We were parking the bikes and walking to the car show.

I welcomed the respite.

To be continued...

Do it now

Tuesday the text came through from Charlie. Charlie is the guy I bought my motorcycle from and we became friends and riding buddies.

We had a cancellation for Lake George this weekend, you in? We leave Thursday.

The Lake George Trip! He had mentioned this to me. 4 days of riding motorcycles and a huge car show. I was excited. Then I thought about it. I came up with about 50 reasons why I should say no. Some were legitimate, like missing 2 dialysis sessions was a big one. I texted him back and told him I couldn’t make it.

Then I thought about it. I didn’t even try to see if I could make it work. Had I even tried to change my schedule at dialysis or try to schedule an appt in NY? Apparently a year of Dr’s Appointments and a rigorous dialysis schedule had almost stolen my spirit. Almost. I texted Charlie back and told him that I needed until the next afternoon to decide.

The next morning I went to my clinic and sat down with the nurse manager Karen and told her that I had an opportunity to do a real bucket list thing and asked for her help. Within minutes it was agreed that I would come in the next morning at 6 am (as opposed to noon), skip my Saturday treatment and do Monday and Tuesday when I get back. Bada Bing Bada Boom. I was all set. I called Charlie and told him that I’m in. He was happy.

That afternoon I packed everything I would need for the trip. Rain gear, clothes, tools and snacks were loaded onto the bike. I had already polished her and topped off the oil. She was ready to go.

As luck would have it I didn’t sleep for a minute that night. I went to dialysis at 5:45 hoping I would catch a nap there. No such luck. When I left at 10:15 I was dead tired. I briefly entertained the notion of Chumping out but I didn’t. I got home, parked the truck, fired up the sled and drove an hour to meet Charlie. I had committed myself to accomplish this trip.

to be continued…