slowly getting smaller and smaller

slowly getting smaller and smaller

I know, it’s a weird title for a post but as I slowly begin getting my crap together I can’t help but think of all the stories, from friends and in books, about packing light.  So often what is quoted is how many pairs of underwear to bring.  It usually goes somewhere from 1 to 3 pairs.  As I began packing today I starting thinking, what the hell?  Why are people choosing to bring so few pairs of underwear?  I mean, yes, travelling by motorcycle means you need to save weight and space but with that in mind I simply must ask, how BIG and HEAVY are your pairs of underwear?  I mean really people, even if you packed gigantic granny panties they wouldn’t take up that much room.  You can’t spare a tiny bit more room for another pair so you’re not having to do laundry every night? I’m so tempted to bring every damn pair I have in protest but I resist.

Perhaps it’s about motorcycle travel cred.  The less pairs of underwear you bring the tougher you are…or maybe just smellier.  I’m fine with roughing it and have plenty of times before, but cut weight where you don’t need it, where it takes up a lot of space or is just damn inconvenient.  If your underwear is any of those things you really need to look into getting new ones.

OK, stepping off the underwear soap box (since I don’t need the soap box every night!).  Have done a bit of packing, got some of the final fixes done on Bob, laminated my fake drivers licenses at Ride West (isn’t that nice of them?  Well, I have spent a ludicrous sum of money there on an old bike) and cleaned my room.  Clean sheets and a clean room are a must after a long road trip, especially one on motorcycle.  The weather is still looking particularly ugly and I’ve realized that the desire, need, urge to push too hard tomorrow is just plain dumb.  I’m not really wanting to be riding shivering cold, soaking wet, with my visor up because it fogs up too much down, in the dark, hoping I hit one of those elk that only cross for the next 2 miles according to the sign (HORSE SHIT!) just so I can cut it open and crawl in Star Wars style.  That was my last trip.  This one will be different.  So tomorrow I get up when I friggin feel like it (within reason), get a good breakfast, take some pics and hit the road, maybe stopping in Portland to buy a camera, maybe stopping in Portland for the night.  WHO KNOWS?  I won’t, not until tomorrow afternoon.  No more planning mileage before you even leave.  That leads to anger at “elk crossing” signs.


About Jessica Dally

A random blog about travel, personal transformation, riding motorcycles solo, social media and whatever else seems interesting at the moment. View all posts by Jessica Dally

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