T-713: A Journey is a Story

I don't know if other bikers do this, but telling a long, ridiculous story in multiple installments, is always a feature of our travels.  During the Nova Scotia trip, when we were moving from  Quebec to Vermont, we spent the whole day going towards a single peak called Mont St. Gregoire.  All day long we travelled towards it, never getting closer, always on our left, then suddenly it was on our right, though we had no awareness of passing the mountain.



These are not the original Alice and Herbert,
but they remind me of them.



The name of the story  became "The Legend of Mont St. Gregoire", a mysterious mountain where what you seek stays just beyond your reach.  Because I was carrying an old boy scout bag proudly marked with the name Monte Boyle as my handlebar bag, Monte became our major character.  Monte was a classic innocent abroad.  He was travelling with his faithful companion, the Electric Dog.  The Electric Dog came into the story when one night after stowing our bikes at camp and walking into town for a local festival, with Chazz excited and quivering on the leash.  As we walked by a family, the little girl suddenly stopped and pointed at the glowing silver dog and asked, "Daddy, is that an electric dog?" 

Monte was the adopted son of two hapless farmers, Herbert and Alice, named after two turkeys (yes, real turkeys) we met while travelling in Northern California.  They loved to be petted, but got so excited that they hyperventilated and passed out.  Monte came to be their son through the machinations of that not so famous but oh so glamourous torch singer, Googie Nordrocks.



The benign face of the government at work.

 In the course of travels through Nova Scotia, stopping at all manner of community events, fairs, and festivals, we came across the Nova Scotia Lieutenant Governor.  Apparently this was his job in the summer--make the rounds of community events, cut ribbons, shake hands, and be the silent, benign face of the government. We were tickled that they pronounced his position as "leftenant govnor". 

It wasn't long before it became clear that Monte Boyle was the love child of Googie Nordrocks and the Leftenant Govnor.  They had met during one of Googie's ill fated tours of Nova Scotian festivals.   Googie could not be burdened with a child---after all stardom was surely just around the corner--so she tricked Herbert into thinking it was his child.

We told this story through multiple installations, through the miles and many ridiculous adventures.  We tell it to this day.  Googie, particularly, has become a favorite character.  She was, after all, the inventor of the Big Finish.  Her influence is seen all over popular music.  When you hear a singer craning and swooping up to an over the top finish of a song, you have heard the mark of Googie.  She is insulted to this day that she could not figure out a way to copyright this signature element.   With her greatest fan and manager, Bonky Hugoment, the two live on and on in our imaginations and storytelling.

It is not only these fictional inventions that endure.  How many times have we told the chestnuts of our bicycle travels.  We still laugh until we cry telling the story of poor Chazz bungied to the back of Wes' bike like a dead deer and flying down the mountain on the back of that bike with nary a complaint or howl.  Cars pulled to side of the road to see this sight. 

These stories provide the architecture of our life and identity.  We know who we are by the stories we tell.  Our stories place us in the world and give the world back to us.  When we remember Herbert and Alice, we remember the hitchhiking trip we took that led us to meet those turkeys, all the permutations of the story they inspired, the travels where they became Wes and I's alternative identity.  (Yes, it's sad but true, our alter egos are hyperventilating turkeys.) 

A new journey not only brings new miles, it brings new stories.  And with new stories, a new sense of self.  The writing begins again in just 713 days.