WYBDR: It’s A Big World

After a confusing morning of dealing with U-Haul’s definition of “reservation” and then tracing lines on a paper map I’m itching to go. At the gas station (I’m going to need every ounce of fuel!) I get a morale boost.

Two guys with dual sports are also fueling up. They are not traversing the WYBDR. I can tell they’re local folks just preparing for a fun afternoon. On the other hand, they’re obviously outfitted exquisitely well for the environment. I need some local information and they’re just the right source. “I’m planning to ride to Casper. From halfway there I’m going to pick up Poison Spider Road. Have you been on that road?”

“Yep. It’s a little boring but it’ll get you there.”

Excellent! I’ve been planning this “Poison Spider Road” approach for weeks and I’ve never ever met, read about, seen a photo of, or spoken with anyone who’s personally been there. Now I know the line on the map comports with a viable option!


Inside the gas station’s convenience store I grab 2 one liter bottles of water, a packet of beef jerky, and an orange. Honestly, all I need is the water and I only need that because I may be out there overnight. (Cooking a dehydrated meal will take a little more water than usual.) With my 1 gallon rotopax and 2 liters extra I’m ready for anything. I’ve got enough food that I could probably just eat snacks anyway.

I’m delighted with the orange. It seems a little bit magical that there’s fresh citrus right at hand. It looks lovely. This orange will be a special treat tonight, when I hunker down wherever the hell I wind up!

Ahead of me in line for the cashier is a woman. Nothing special about that but she’s wearing a mask. She looks reasonably fit and healthy. She’s got the standard issue “HOA Karen” quasi-professional clothes and the requisite asymmetric haircut.

Four years after everyone lost their shit and they still walk among us. I can’t know anyone’s heart and it’s possible she’s got some rare funky situation but I can guess and I guess it’s just the generic COVID madness. In my eyes, if you’re still wearing a mask in public in 2024, you might as well carry a little sign that says “mentally ill and proud of it”.

Imagine the damage she’s done to her mind. She’s wearing a mask in the heart of civilization; a clean, well lit, air conditioned, convenience store. The floor has been freshly mopped and the place gleams with antiseptic prosperity. It is probably one of the safest places on all of earth and in the safest times in all of human history.

Yet there she is, publicly declaring her fear to breathe.

And here I am, standing right next to her. My jacket is dusty. Leather gloves are crammed in my pockets. I’m going to ride a machine with two wheels; no roof or doors. I’m going to a place where nobody exists. I’m going alone. I don’t know where I’ll spend the night or what I’ll encounter during the day.

And I’m standing next to the woman afraid to breathe.

I trust entirely to my skills and equipment. I have tools and tent. I’m looking forward to eating an orange while sitting on a rock in the desert. I’m not afraid, though I am exercising due diligence.

Myself and the woman. We live on the same planet; though not in the same world. I seek out and experience risk… real risk; rattlesnakes and unsure footing and dehydration. She experiences risk in her mind… germs from four years ago. She’s probably afraid of Donald Trump. She’s probably afraid of dusty desert cretins standing in line at the convenience store.

I imagine our respective futures. I’m hoping to find flat sand to setup my tent. Maybe a dry wash. She’s going to die alone in a room full of cats. I’ll look at the stars. She’ll have cable news telling her about all the mean nasty terrible people who are just itching to oppress her. She’ll have NPR playing on the radio. I left my HAM radio (which catches FM too) behind. It was too much excess weight.

I almost ache to tell her the secret…

“it’s going to be alright”.

I’d like to reach across the vast gulf of human experience; offer encouragement. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. The world is a wonderful place. Wash your hands with soap and water and then get over it.

But of course, I can’t. Her world view is specifically about separating herself from… “other”. That’s what masks did to people. They were a physical signifier of a belief system. If masks were invisible she’d have picked something else, a tattoo about a vaccine, a certain kind of clothing, whatever it takes to express “I am not of the other”… that’s what she’d do.

She pays for her gas and minces around me like I might bite. I smile as best I can but I’m sure my sweetest most disarming smile looks absolutely feral to her. And I suppose it’s not unreasonable. Compared to her, I’m a flat out predator. I’m a being of nature. I’m armed and active, I ride motorcycles, listen to the wrong kind of music, run chainsaws, travel, camp, swear, drink whiskey, read books, think for myself… to the right person my thoughts are dangerous and my very existence is a threat. My smile does no good.

She climbs into her SUV, tightens her seatbelt, and rolls out. I follow, helmeted and jacketed but otherwise fully exposed to the world. Our ways part a few miles down the road. I’ll never see her again.

I know my lifestyle isn’t for everyone. I have aches and pains from my ride, I’m leaving later than I plan, and I’m still fretting over my U-Haul connection. There’s no guarantee I’ll make it to sunset without dropping off a cliff somewhere. I get that everyone has their own path and some are riskier than others. But I’m hardly a rock star, I’m just a guy having fun. That lady (who appeared healthy) was closer to death than I’ll ever be.

About AdaptiveCurmudgeon

Adaptive Curmudgeon is handsome, brave, and wise.
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13 Responses to WYBDR: It’s A Big World

  1. Anonymous says:

    Well written.

  2. Anonymous says:

    I’ve been a lurker following your stories for some time now. This one in my opinion was your best work from just a purely writing perspective. The comparison picture you painted with words between yourself and the woman in line drew me in as if I was in the store with you. I think we’ve all been in similar circumstances and you described it perfectly. Well done sir, keep up the good work.

  3. Anonymous says:

    Excellent, a perfect description of what many of us see and feel.

  4. Anonymous says:

    Be interesting to know where HOA-Karen was from; can’t imagine Wyoming. Funny that they bring their neuroses with them when escaping civilization. Have a great ride.

    • AdaptiveCurmudgeon says:

      I don’t know if she was “from” Wyoming or had recently moved there but I don’t think it matters. The idea of being “from” a place doesn’t exist in the headspace of social contagion. So long as there’s a TV or computer blasting “news” or social media in a person’s life they could be on Jupiter and still get caught up virtue signaling; even about various things that don’t happen locally. I don’t think it’s limited to Karen’s. I think it can happen for both sexes and both sides of politics.

      I’ve seen women in “pro-choice” states, where their options are 100% unaffected by the Dobbs decision, carry on like they’re in a “Handmaiden’s Tale” nightmare. This includes women who haven’t been fertile for decades. I’ve seen people in towns that are literally 100% white freak out and break shit in their own town in a fit over alleged police mistreatment of minorities in a different time zone. I’ve seen farmers in the US completely steamed over things that happened to farmers in France. I’ve seen gun owners in firearm friendly states absolutely spastic over some gun seizure in Manhattan. We even saw people in the US get angry about a dentist’s photo of a big game hunt in Africa.

      Nobody is fully immune. Here’s an example from myself. Today, people who’ve never been to the state of New York are pissed off that the State went apeshit and whacked Peanut, a domesticated squirrel. To my surprise, I’m pissed off about it too… even though I specifically and deliberately live nowhere near there and I don’t have a pet squirrel. I hunt and eat squirrels! I also own a homestead and could probably have a fuckin’ mastodon in my kitchen and nobody would care. I’m not sure why I should care that the State of New York, which I think of as East Germany in 1980 is acting exactly as the State is known to act. Yet, I’m bummed out they did a “raid” to kill a raccoon and a squirrel. That’s how I know I’m not immune to social media manipulation.

      So the lady might be from Wyoming but something like listening to NPR constantly will change her until she’s completely disconnected from the vast empty rangeland outside the window and she acts like she lives in Seattle.

    • AdaptiveCurmudgeon says:

      Forgive my long answer. I was thinking aloud.

  5. Anonymous says:

    Poked the pig, get a fair bottle of bourbon when back home. Kudos on your ride an blog for us virtual vacation voyeurs.

  6. Anonymous says:

    I think “We live on the same planet; though not in the same world” perfectly describes the difference between the two world views!

    By the way, Poison Spider Road is right up there with Crazy Woman Creek and Ten Sleep in the great names category.

    Thanks for the stories of the trip.

  7. Anonymous says:

    It is amazing that some people go thru their entire lives and do not realize until the very end of their existence that they never actually “lived”. Not just women, but men too, how sad…
    Keep the rubber side down!
    irontomflint

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