Two Harleys and a House

October 10, 2000

If nothing else is accomplished this long weekend, at least I can sit back, smile, and know what it could have been like.

If it works, the house is picked, the price and terms are negotiated, and the owner is waiting for is a phone call.

If it doesn't work, at lest I know that we met a great couple and had a ew wonderful moments on their patio next to the pool. I rode my rent-a-Harley out there on Sunday afternoon, and was greeted with a big smile. Leaving my boots outside, I immediately walked through the house onto the patio and gaped again at the wonder of it all. I took a few pictures and then we sat down and talked. I know what they saw in my eyes, and I am sure that anyone who had to sell their "dream house" would want to have someone appreciate it as much as they do.

I do.

It took all of 2 minutes to work out the deal, complicated as it was. He smiled, I smiled, and I took his hand, "deal," I said.

His wife said, I wish we were not moving, I like the way you do business.

He knows, and I know, that it can still sell right out from under me.... and if so... well, then I guess it was just not meant to happen. The realtor doesn't know we have worked out a deal. I probably was "supposed" to negotiate with paper and offers and counter offers.

It was so much easier to work it out at the patio.

But if the job does not work out, at least I have the afternoon ride to remember, a treck east and up into the mountains to a little town called Julian. Winding roads, s curves and then double s curves, hairpin turns and rolling terrain. If there was ever a road made for a motorcycle, I found it on Sunday.

I had always imagined what it would be like to ride in the Rockies, and with the exception of having to wear a helmet, I think I now know.

I think that everyone that owned a motorcycle in this state was on that road as well and I now I
understand why.

After driving out to Julian, I headed south through one of California's state parks, more stellar motorcycle roads and finally hit the freeway about 35 miles east of San Diego. Personally, I don't really riding through 5 lanes of heavy traffic, but I suppose it goes with the territory.

Today I only had a lunch meeting at the firm I am interviewing with. Since I was prepared for my "big" meeting tomorrow morning, I decided to wash my mind with more of the road, and quickly drove back to the rental place and got a "Road King" for this afternoon's ride.

This time the ride took me not through lush pines, but through barren and desolate mountains, down route 94 to a small town in Mexico called Tecate.

What a ride.

There was not a cloud in the sky, the temperature was about 78 degrees, the sun was on my back and the curves in my face and the asphalt was new and smooth. At times when the road would straighten out I rolled that throttle open, felt the roar of the bike, 60, 70, 80, 90....

I wanted to stand up and ride and yell and throw my arms out into the air.. "I AM ALIVE"

But hey.. I didn't...

I smiled a lot

And as I write, I am still smiling.

So tomorrow is it... the big one.

Come what may, I am alive... and I will smile in the morning, remembering a long tear down a ribbon of highway that cut through the desert.

I love the desert.