Main Motorcycle: 2004 Thruxton
Join Date: May 2013
Other Motorcycle: 76 Ironhead
Some days its hard
Woof. Yeah. Why am I even typing this?
Just one of those things I guess. Here I sit at the computer. Just off a wonderful vacation in the mountains of Colorado with my girlfriend. I learned how to ice climb. Dusted off the athleticism and learned how to snowboard - double green runs all the way baby. A lot of snowshoeing at 10K feet which sounds easier than it is. Experiences that others would envy.
But here I sit. Girlfriend is on travel for work. It's just about a year since I divorced my wife after a touch over 20 years. Three months into real retirement from the Army after 21 years.
Six deployments. Two IZ, two AF, one Africa, one Qatar (in theater, but upper left balcony) in the last eight years.
Countless trips hither and yon in addition to the deployments.
It's no wonder I divorced.
Hard to relate. To anyone that hasn't shared a similar experience. Heh. Dysfunctional veteran. Yeah. That's me I guess.
But what do you do? Do you look through the bottom of a 750ml or 16-ouncer? It's what I'm doing tonight and that's got me all maudlin. Idle hands. They fill up glasses of their own volition. Its not healthy but that's never stopped me. Solitude is not a good cure for the soul.
We need people, as humans, even if we despise them. Trump voters, wall lovers, Ocasio lovers or haters - doesn't really matter. Humans need other humans around to serve as a reflection, muse, idol, negative example, and so on.
Why in the world am I putting this to pen - or ASCII via 1s and 0s - especially on a motorcycle forum where I've actually met like four of them members face-2-face (or F2F if you're one of those young people). I don't have an answer. Its probably because I haven't met most of you, when I think about it. Safer. Anonymous. If I don't want to be judged via TCP/IP, I never have to look at this thread again. That may be what happens.
I need to write. To let this out before it poisons me.
It's hard. I read articles of some douche who motos through Iraqi Kurdistan like it was dangerous when it isn't. Some other See-You-Next-Tuesday who writes about skiing in the same area because he's a vet with 6 years of service way back in the day and it calls to him. I judge them harshly but aren't they my brethren? What is this demon inside me that hates my own kind? The "vets" who wax poetic on their time as whatever doing time in wherever? Why did I get rid of everything I had in woodland, desert, and multi-cam? Even my favorite backpack. It's multi-cam so I will never use it again lest some stranger realize that I served. Why do I feel shame?
Knowing that so many others who have sacrificed so much more with so much less publicity will never willingly tell their story. Knowing that I, as a combat support cat who never fired a GOV-issued weapon in anger or self-defence judges them so harshly. What right have I? Because I am melancholy tonight after a touch too much to drink and too much time in my own head?
I guess you don't have to directly shoot people to feel bad about killing them. Anyone out there down with murder? Got some terrorist friends who you wouldn't feel bad about losing if I paid you $25K? Yeah, sometimes it seems like it would have been cleaner to take care of problems with 5.56mm vs. a bag of cash.
I don't know, but it feels better to get it out. Like an old school blood-letting without all the leeches. Hate those things anyway.
Thanks for reading. It probably didn't help you, but its not about you tonight. It's about me. I feel better. I'm probably going to refill that 16-ounce glass full of freedom and ride the night out. Have a good night fellow RATs. I'll be around in the morning.
The Ted Thread
Mods: 16,000 linear feet of pipe wrap. Wetted daily for maximum oxidization. It's like I ride a fiberglass q-tip.
904cc / ZX-6R front end / Misc. Supporting mods