CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - Farewell to an old friend.

The Brookwood Motel was a short ride south through the old Oaks and Spanish Moss canopy of coastal South Carolina… and a welcome sight. One of the few motels in Murrell's Inlet, it's tough to get into during Bike Week, but usually has an opening throughout the remainder of the year. The young couple who ran it last time I was here - not many months ago - was gone, replaced by an elderly man and his equally ancient dog. He was seated in the same lawn chairs the previous owners sat in last time I pulled in here. The conversation was considerably less friendly, though. From the looks of him, we should be happy he's letting us stay. Not very friendly and gave us a bit of a sneer when we pulled up on bikes. Yeah, times are a changin'.

It felt good to slam the door behind me, get out of my jeans and take a hot shower. This is where I usually turn on the news and catch up on the world, but I am purposefully avoiding 'the world' for the next few months. A quick call back home to let Kim know I was all right was all I needed to make sure the world was all right. Two days out and I missed being home already. I told her to open the package Lance gave her and fish out the title to Petey, put it in a sealed envelope and hold it, ready to send it to me if I ever needed it. As an afterthought, I told her to find the title to my bike as well. Ya never know.

I rang up Lance's room and told him I'd meet him at 9pm for a run back to Bullfeathers to see Tom and Carm, and to grab something to eat, but I was fixin' to get a little sleep. Five minutes later I was dozed off, door locked and oblivious to everyone else's problems.

The knock came at 10:35 according to the cheap LED Clock radio on the bedside table. I assumed PM as it was still dark out. Ordinarily I'd have been pissed that I missed an arranged meet, but there's not gonna be much organized living on this trip, and if he was awake and waiting he'd have called earlier. I cracked open the door and said simply, "Yeah?"

Equally as unimpressed with our timeliness, Lance - already half way to his bike - spoke quietly, "Come on."

And so the trip began. I have a general idea where we're going, but the maps and atlas is safely tucked away. I don't wear a watch anyway, but pay even less attention to the time than usual, and we don't have to make decisions based on how much things cost. I'm already dreading the end of this trip for more than one reason, but beginning to really enjoy the freedom this ride is gonna give in the meantime.

"Be right out."

The parking lot was, as usual, only half full, and most of them were cars and trucks. One shiny new white Fat Boy was backed up against the deck aimed straight out. Smart move; always point the bike in the general direction of a smooth getaway when ya go out drinkin'. Especially in gravel lots like this. Either you'll need a running head start in case of trouble or you just don't wanna try to maneuver in gravel after a few beers. It's always the latter, though. I've yet to find enough trouble in a bike bar that caused a hasty retreat. Last close call I had ended up in a friendly pool game - after the shots were fired, of course.

There stood Tom, coffee cup in hand, standing in the doorway at the top of the steps, grin fully spread across his face. "Wanna buy a Bar?" was all he said. It was a little chilly out, Spring still had a grip on the weather, and he was in shorts and a T-shirt. The steam from his cup swirled around his face as he blew on his coffee waiting for it to cool off a little.

That was, I realized later, the last time I ever saw him come out of Bullfeathers to greet me as I pulled in. "What, this crappy bar? Who'd be stupid enough to buy into this place?"

"There's a lot of stupid people out there, I just need one of 'em!"

I swung my leg over Ol' Huck, again aware I would likely not do so again out front of this place, and as soon as Lance shut down his bike, reintroduced him, "You remember Lance?" It's always been a habit of mine to remind folks of people's names before they have to ask again. I do that with my own name if I'm not sure they recall it.

We've known each other for a couple years now, and in typical biker fashion, greet each other with an old friends hug. I never was much into guy-hugs before, a handshake was always just good enough. I suppose the older ya get, and the more stories that can be told between ya, particularly the ones best kept secret, the less I care what other people think. I'm happy to see him again. It's easier with Carm - a hug is totally expected. She had come around the bar and greeted us in familiar fashion. This was Lance's second or third visit, so he qualified for the hug as well. This was a friendly place - gonna miss it.

My shot of tequila was on the bar before I asked for it. I must have been here more times than I can remember if the bartender knows just when to switch from a cold beer to a shot of tequila. The shotglass full of amber liquid looked inviting on the lacquered wooded bartop. This was one of those bars that had years of accumulated crap all over the bar and shelves behind it. The stools were well worn and the typical customer at the bar was well known to all. Even though I knew none of them, being greeted at the door by the barmaid and owner of the place qualified me as one of the guys.

Out of the ladies room walked Sherri, Tom's fiancé', and a really good looking woman. Five foot five, blond hair and great eyes. Sherri and I spent about 5 hours one day talking a couple of Bike Week's ago. Tom was furiously running the bar and keeping order during a particularly busy day, Sherri and he had just started dating then. I took on the role as Father Protector, because she looked like she needed help from all the guys hitting on her. Tom knew he could trust me to leave her alone, and I think appreciated that I kept her from being too bored. Hers was a particularly long and tight hug, just how I like 'em.

Lance parked himself at the end of the bar, already in conversation with the rider on the Fat Boy. Tom and I talked about the bar business. I had owned one myself years ago in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, and know the work that goes into these places. He had found a buyer for it and was going to sell; thought about getting married, getting a real job, settling down. All the things we bitch about after we find ourselves there, he was heading there on purpose. Everyone's gotta dig their own graves though, so I just shake my head in mock dismay and pat him on the back.

"No reason why you can't keep on coming down, though. Carm and Josh are gonna stay on with the new owner."

"Yeah, maybe so." But I knew I wouldn't. One thing about the adventure spirit, there's always a new adventure around the bend. There'll be another Bullfeathers out there, and now's the time to start looking for it.

Sherri added, "And you always have a place to stay when ya come down." Except during Bike Week I supposed. Being the bar owner, Tom and Sherri had tons of friends like me, many of whom stopped by more often and stayed longer when they came to town. I knew better than to suppose Bike Week had any spare rooms at their place.

We bullshitted for an hour, sampling his Reuben Sandwich from the menu. Lance came over and the four of us talked about our trip. We still didn't have any idea exactly where we'd be at any given moment, except for the stops where Kim was going to join us, but the general plan was to visit Florida and the Keys before heading west, and north as the summer wore on.

Months ago as we talked about the route, I thought it best to stay east of the Mississippi for a while to see how Lance coped with all the riding and drinking. Maybe carve out a little of the heartland and work our way into the New England area as it warmed up, traveling across the top of the country towards the west in the warmer months if he felt up to it.

Lance, however, suggested we stay to the south til it warmed up and make it out west as soon as possible. The combination of it being his trip, and the glance he gave me as he said it, convinced me of our route plan. He made it clear he was more concerned with time than waiting for more comfortable weather.

I listened as Tom passed on some suggestions where to go, but it fell on deaf ears. I smiled and nodded enthusiastically where appropriate, but we were less interested in destinations than we were the overall ride.

Nearing midnight, and seeing the bar was empty except for ourselves, we gradually worked our way out the door, pleasantries exchanged and last glimpses of the bar taken and stored away. There were the usual promises of keeping in touch, which I'm sure we will, and then goodbyes said. Lance and I fired up the bikes and headed back to the motel, turning our backs on Bullfeathers for what would probably be the final time. I just don't think I want to come back with someone else running the place.

With the bikes turned off back at the motel, the silence of midnight enveloped us in the dark parking lot, I just sat on Ol' Huck a few minutes absorbed in thought. "Suck's, don't it?" Lance must have noticed my brooding. That was twice tonight someone asked me that question, not expecting a reply.

I knew better than to whine too much about the loss of a favorite bar - especially not to a guy who's every day is filled with last looks at everything he sees. I made no effort to get off my bike. He had leaned up against his, sitting cross saddle in his seat with his arms across his chest looking up at the sky.

"I'm finding it surprisingly easy to enjoy my ride, the people we meet, and - I dunno - these little adventures, knowing I won't be back. Almost frees me up to enjoy it more. Don't have to recall names or places later, no 'let's keep in touch' farewells, ya know?" Lance was unusually introspective.

I didn't have a quick reply to that one. It was almost as if he was feeling sorry for me having to move on from a familiar place. Man, that makes ya feel stupid, coming from a guy who is on a one-way ride.

So in typical fashion, I sit up a little straighter in my seat, lock my forks, throw my leg off the bike and dismiss it all saying, "Let's get an early start in the morning - gotta be some new adventures to stir up tomorrow." With that, we head to our rooms and said goodnight to each other.

Yup, I say to myself, as I lay in bed looking up at the ceiling, any day above ground has got to be a good day!

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