The alarm went off at 6 AM. Although I had gotten eight hours of sleep, I was still wrecked from the previous day. Eight hours of sleep wasn't enough to recover. Maybe eighteen would have done the trick.

I wound up hitting the snooze button a few times. Hitting snooze doesn't do much to actually help you get more rest. Being re-woken every seven minutes destroys the benefit of any additional sleep might have provided. I've never woken up after hitting snooze and thought, "I feel a lot better now than when the alarm first went off." It would have been more beneficial to have set my alarm for 6:21 and gotten some additional uninterrupted sleep than what I received from pressing "snooze" three times.

The analysis of sleep hygiene aside, I crawled out of bed like a prize fighter the morning after getting pummeled in the ring. I really felt terrible, and had some worry that I wouldn't be able to complete four more days of riding. I hoped some food and caffeine would be enough to bring me back from what felt like the brink of death.

I got dressed and wandered downstairs to the breakfast area.

I was very, very hungry from the previous day's fasting. However, I wasn't fasting on this day and I proved. I loaded up a couple of plates of food at the buffet. I also had a couple of cups of coffee as a preemptive measure to try to keep myself awake on the road.

While I ate, I contemplated my plans for the day. I was currently in Boardman, OR, and needed to be in Eagle, ID (a suburb of Boise) that evening. When creating my original route, I had included a couple of "must see" roads in the area that weren't the most direct route between these two points.

As I mentioned before, when sitting at home in my comfortable office chair in a temperature controlled room, it's very easy to overplan what I'm able to realistically ride in a day. My desire to see as much as I can as I travel through an area tends to make me a bit aggressive when planning my routes.

The "ideal route" that I had originally planned for this day was 518 miles and 10 hours of riding. That would make it nearly as many miles as the previous day, which almost did me in. When making my plans I knew that was a lot, but I couldn't bring myself to cut out any of the scenic rides on which this route would have taken me.

As I ate my breakfast I had a moment of clarity. As much as it pained me (mentally) to do so, I needed to shorten the day's route. The physical pain of trying to stick with my initial plans would greatly outweigh the mental pain of acknowledging my limits. I regretted not being able to see some of these roads to which I had looked forward to experiencing, but I reasoned that it gave me an excuse to return to the area in the future.

So after I finished eating I went up to my room and quickly created a new map file with more realistic mileage goals. Here was my original route plan for the day:

The abbreviation of my route plans happened in two separate points during the day. The first was the aforementioned section of the route I removed while sitting at the hotel that reduced the day's length by 114 miles. There was a second 62 mile section of the route I would remove ad hoc later in the day, but we'll get to that part of the story in a few minutes. All said and done, this is the actual route I would wind up riding from Boardman, OR to Eagle, ID

I finished packing, grabbed my gear and headed down to the lobby. I stopped at the front desk to check out, then went out and loaded my bike.

With everything loaded and ready to go, I attempted to load my new route into the Ride Command system via the Indian app on my phone. I followed the instructions on the screen, but there was no "send to bike" button appearing on the phone app. I monkeyed with it for about 10 minutes, but was unsuccessful in my attempts.

Previously, before I left on the trip I had loaded all the original map files onto the motorcycle by copying them to a flash drive and then plugging that drive into the USB port on the bike. Both my flash drive and laptop were now buried in the luggage. I really didn't have the energy or motivation to unload the motorcycle to retrieve them, then go back into the hotel to access the wifi so I could pull down the map files onto the USB stick.

I decided my amended route was easy enough to follow by memory. When the GPS started to complain about me missing a turn I could just use the "skip waypoint" feature to get it to shut up.

I later learned that Indian had dropped app support for the older versions of the Ride Command system that my motorcycle has, and that's why the "send to bike" button didn't appear. That was a little disappointing to learn seeing as my motorcycle was only five years old. At least I know that the manual transfer via a thumb drive still works. If I still have this motorcycle once the Indian Ride Command website eventually stops supporting GPX files, I'll have to figure out how to hack the XML data so I can continue to use the system by building my own files. Yes, I'm a nerd like that.

The temp was already in the low 80s, and I had sat there with the engine idling for a long time trying to get the GPS route going. I needed to get rolling, if for no other reason than to get some air blowing over me and the motor.

I carefully pulled out onto the dirt where the road in front of the hotel used to be. Because I hadn't filled up the tank the night before my first stop was to get some fuel. There was a gas station on the other side of the interstate from the hotel, so I rode over there and topped of the tank.

Once full of gasoline, I took off and headed east on I-84 towards Pendelton, OR.

My original planned route was going to take me south at Pendleton, down to the town of John Day for a gas stop, then east over to Baker City. It was supposed to be a very scenic ride. Here's the map of that original planned route:

My new amended route just kept me on the interstate all the way to Baker City. Not very exciting, but as mentioned earlier it would remove 114 miles and at least two hours from the trip. Here's the actual first section of what I rode on this day:

My body started complaining almost immediately. It didn't want to be on the bike. My brain at least felt a little better for the time being. Mentally I didn't mind riding this morning, even though the scenery during this initial section was rather dull. I think the big breakfast and caffeine gave my brain some much needed fuel.

There wasn't a whole lot to see between Boardman and Pendleton. Probably the most notable sight was when I came over a hill and could see a giant solar farm. With no trees to block the sun in this area it probably produced a decent amount of power.

I rode past Pendelton. As expected, the GPS started to alert me that I had missed my turn down towards John Day. I skipped the waypoints and then it picked up and started directing me to my next gas stop in Baker City. I really didn't need the GPS on this section, as it was all on the same section of interstate. Having the GPS was nice though as at least I could see how many miles I had left until I could get off the motorcycle for a stretch break.

East of Pendleton I was encouraged to see that the scenery got a lot more interesting.

The interstate crossed the Wallowa Mountains which is part of the Wallowa-Whitman National Forest.

The road was gaining a significant amount of elevation. The grade was steep enough that there was a 3rd lane on the right that trucks could use as they slowly climbed up the mountains.

The temp dropped as I got higher and higher in elevation. The thermometer bottomed out around 70°F, which was just a little chilly at interstate speeds as I had dressed for much higher temps. However, I wasn't going to complain one little bit about being cold.

I knew the cooler temps were only temporary, so I didn't bother pulling over to put on additional clothes.

Sure enough once I made it through this section of mountains the temp quickly rose. Unfortunately it kept rising all the way into the 90s.

Around La Grande, OR, I-84 started heading south. The road flattened out a little (although it was still hilly) and became tree lined.

My butt and legs were really hurting. I was trying to occupy my mind with other things to keep from focusing on the pain. I still had a long way to go to get home.

The further south I got, the more I started to notice a haze over the area and could smell smoke.

I would later discover there was a large forest fire just to the west of this area.

Less than a week later I would see on the news that the fire spread and got large enough to shut down a good section of eastern Oregon, including this portion of the interstate. I got out just in time.

While I was bummed that I was missing the scenery on the originally planned route, this particular stretch of interstate had its own pretty scenery.

I tried to make myself feel better about amending my route by telling myself that if I hadn't, I would have missed the scenery that I did see.

140 miles and a little more than two hours since I left Boardman, I made it to Baker City for my first gas stop.

It was nice to get off the motorcycle for a few minutes as I topped off the tank. I went inside and used the restroom. When I came out a guy at a nearby pump approached me and struck up a conversation. We discussed his motocross bikes that he was hauling in a trailer.

I put all my gear back on and was getting ready to leave when it occurred to me that I had forgotten to put on sunscreen. I probably should have stopped and taken off my gear and applied some, but I was feeling too tired and lazy and didn't have the motivation. I decided I would just hope I didn't get burned.

The next section of the day would take me off the interstate, and down highway 86 towards Cambridge, ID.

Not far down highway 86 I saw a sign that said, "Hell's Canyon Scenic Byway." I hadn't realized that this road had a name.

I could see what appeared to be rain to the southeast. At the moment the road was taking me east-northeast, so I was hoping that by heading this northerly direction I could skirt the rain, and that by the time I started heading south it would have passed by ahead of me.

The sky was just overcast enough that I was OK without wearing sunscreen.

This road would take me to Hell's Canyon, which is a ten-mile-wide canyon that splits Oregon and Idaho.

The temp continued to rise. It was now over 100°F. I was uncomfortable in every facet: physically, mentally and emotionally.

The scenery was excellent, but my ability to fully appreciate it was compromised by my discomfort.

According to Wikipedia, Hell's Canyon is North America's deepest river gorge at 7,993 feet, running deeper than the Grand Canyon in Arizona.

I just continued to ride and tried to enjoy the scenery as much as I could, given the circumstances.

It was really difficult to decide which pictures from the time lapse camera to keep, and which ones to discard. As I've stated many times already, I probably kept too many, but again I decided that showing too many was better than showing too few. Enjoy the ride through Hell's canyon:

I had been needing a rest break and was looking for a good place to pull over. Right after I passed the Oxbox intersection I came across a gravel parking area next to the lake. I pulled over and parked. I just needed to get off the bike for a few minutes.

It was brutally hot, with my thermometer now reading 103°F. I'm not sure how I managed to align this motorcycle trip with the warmest heatwave the upper northwest had experienced in years, but I did.

Once I stopped moving, the heat became even more oppressive. I immediately took off my jacket for a few minutes and tried to get some air flow to my body.

This parking area was next to the lake formed by the Oxbow dam. There was no wind, so the lake was as smooth as glass. It would have been gorgeous had the temp been 30 degrees cooler. With triple digit temps and no wind, it was just a gross feeling.

I walked around for a couple of minutes, just trying to let the pain in my body settle down. It was during this stop that I first noticed my brain wasn't firing on all cylinders. At the time it was just a subtle hint that I hardly even noticed: a sudden anxious worry that the motorcycle wouldn't start. I hadn't seen another car in a long time, and who knows how long I would be stuck there? I quickly discounted the thought, but now in retrospect I can see this was probably my first sign that I was cooking my brain.

And when I say "cooking my brain", it's actually a more literal term than a metaphor. I would later do some research and learn that it's formally known as "heat related cognitive impairment." It's basically a fancy-worded way of saying that if your brain gets overheated, there is a measurable decline in your ability to think, your moods, and your overall energy level. Here's an interesting article I found about heat related cognitive impairment." Spoiler alert: we'll visit this topic more as the day progresses…

I was in heat-induced distress, but was unaware of how much distress I was in. I just figured I was tired and hot from the weather and the rigors of the journey. Those were certainly factors, but added on top of them was the brutal temperatures and the wearing of protective gear which trapped the heat and didn't let my body's natural cooling system work properly. I was in rough shape. The time lapse camera captured a picture of me as I walked in front of the bike, and it is obvious that I don't look like someone out enjoying their vacation.

I drank some water, which was now very hot. It didn't taste good, but I knew I needed the hydration. I also slathered myself with sunscreen. It was kind of an overcast day, but I've gotten burned on overcast days before. I decided I'd rather not add 2nd degree burns to the discomfort I was already feeling.

I'm not sure why, but I decided to put my jacket back on despite the triple digit temps. In retrospect that was an unwise decision. I reluctantly crawled back on the bike. Putting my anxious fears to rest, the motorcycle started right up. I continued down Hell's Canyon Road.

A few miles up the road was the Brownlee Dam. As I approached the dam area the speed limit was 55 mph, and I was riding at least this fast. Suddenly I saw a speed bump approaching that had a 5 mph warning sign. I jammed hard on the brakes, but still was going about 20 mph when I hit the bump.

It was very jarring. I grumbled that it would have been nice to have some advanced notice prior to encountering the speed bump. Now as I look back and realize my impaired mental state, there may very well have been signs warning me of the upcoming bumps that I just didn't see. I don't know for sure either way.

Just north of the dam the road crossed the Snake River over to the east side. That also marked me leaving Oregon and entering Idaho, and also crossing from the Pacific time zone into the Mountain time zone.

On the Idaho side of the river I started climbing in elevation as I ascended out of the canyon. The road got very steep and curvy. The speed limit on this section of the road was 25 mph, but the corners were marked at 20 mph or less.

It was a very scenic area to ride. As happened many times on this trip, and as I've mentioned just as many times, I wasn't in a good mental place to fully appreciate the road. It's not that I found the scenery unattractive, it's just that with my physical limits being stressed I wasn't able to enjoy it as much as I should have.

I started becoming annoyed that I was constantly having to shift up and down into different gears. Which now looking back is a little bit ludicrous as that's one of the joys of riding a motorcycle.

Thankfully, the time lapse camera took lots of pictures which allowed me to retroactively enjoy the scenery that I didn't fully appreciate at the time.

Once I got past the Brownlee Reservoir (which is the big lake created by the Brownlee Dam) the road straightened out just enough to raise the speed limit to 45, and then eventually 55 mph. There were still lots of curves all the way to Cambridge, ID. I did feel a little relief that I wasn't having to shift as often.

For a few hours I had been watching rain clouds in the distance to the south of where I was riding. Now that I was heading south, it looked like I was riding right into it.

In the extreme heat, I really wasn't in the mood to have to put on my rain gear. The material that keeps out the moisture also effectively keeps out any air movement and traps body heat. That may very well have pushed me over the edge into the heat stroke territory.

In the end, I encountered a few sprinkles before I reached Cambridge, ID, but not enough to even call it rain. And certainly not enough to justify putting on my rain gear.

I made it to the town of Cambridge, which was my second gas stop of the day. At the intersection was a gas station. I pulled in, then realized that all the gas pumps were full. Not wanting to wait, I glanced down the street and could see another gas station a couple blocks away, and the pumps looked empty. I decided to ride down to that station instead.

Then came the second warning sign that my brain wasn't working: As I attempted to pull out of the gas station and onto the street, instead of taking the driveway I managed to ride right off the curb. I wasn't even close to the driveway. The jolt and sound of the impact made me cringe. I felt the surprise of the situation and immediately realized what I had done. That was a little unsettling.

I rode down to the other gas station and pulled in, and then realized why all the gas pumps were empty: the station was closed. I resolved myself to the fact that I was going to have to wait in line, so I rode back to the first station. This time I was extra careful to actually use the driveway entrances.

I didn't have to wait too long. When it was my turn I pulled up to a pump. At this point warning sign number three happened: I put my credit card into the reader and pulled it out. Then the screen informed me that I needed to leave my card inserted. Duh! So I put my credit card back into the slot, and again immediately pulled it out.

The screen repeated the instructions that I needed to leave the card inserted. I thought to myself, "Why do I keep pulling the card back out?" So I inserted it again, and for the third time immediately pulled the card back out.

At this point I became aware that I wasn't thinking clearly. It was weird. At a certain level it's like I was an outside observer seeing exactly what I was doing wrong with the card reader. Yet within my own head I couldn't stop the synapses from signalling my hand to pull the card back out.

Realizing I wasn't thinking clearly, I assumed a few minutes off the motorcycle would get my head back on straight. What I didn't anticipate was how bad it was yet to get after this point in the day.

I reinserted the card, and purposefully forced myself to take my hand off the card until the screen told me it was OK. I managed to top off the tank without any additional issues, then moved my bike away from the pump and parked up near the building. I went inside to use the restroom.

There was a line. As I was waiting in line for the bathroom, I noticed the guy in front of me had a t-shirt that I found funny. It's interesting that my brain wasn't working correctly in certain situations, but in others (such as recognizing the humor in this shirt) it seemed to be fine. I struck up a conversation with the guy and he let me take his picture.

After I used the bathroom I went over to the case of random indiscernible fried foods so many of the convenience stores in the region were featuring. Because of my big breakfast I wasn't super hungry, but was also feeling like a little something to nibble on would be good. I bought some jalapeno cheddar potato bites and a Powerade.

The convenience store didn't have much for air conditioning, and had nowhere available inside to sit. I went outside and found a bench to relax on for a few minutes while I enjoyed my snack. Well, I would have enjoyed the snack but frankly the cheddar bites were nothing to write home about. The Powerade tasted good, though, and as a bonus it was nice and cold.

As I sat I started to look at the next section of my route. I was "supposed" to head north up to New Meadows, then head down to Boise on highway 55. I originally picked this route because it would include some gorgeous scenery. Here was my original planned route:

Because of the aforementioned mental incidents on top of the physical exhaustion, I started to realize that I would probably be better off ending the day's riding sooner rather than later. I calculated that if I eschewed my planned route and rode the most direct route from Cambridge to my hotel in Eagle, ID, that it would reduce my trip length by almost 70 miles.

Like I experienced earlier in the day when I shortened the route, it pained me to compromise. I felt like I was cheating myself out of some scenery and experiences. Plus it would be admitting that I had failed during my trip planning.

At the same time, my legs and butt were screaming at me to stop, and it was obvious my brain wasn't functioning correctly. I finally decided that the pain I would experience by compromising would be less than the pain I would experience by sticking to my original plan. Plus, on a motorcycle if I made the wrong mental decision at the wrong time I could easily wind up dead.

I made the responsible decision and changed my route. Here is the amended route I used to get from Cambridge to Eagle, ID:

I reluctantly wandered back to the bike. I didn't want to get back on the thing, but the sooner I forced myself to ride, the sooner I would arrive at my hotel. I got everything situated, and then climbed on the bike.

As soon as I was ready to pull out, it started to rain. The storm clouds I had been watching for the last few hours had finally caught up with me. I dismounted the bike and started to pull out the rain gear. That didn't improve my mood as I really wasn't looking forward to wearing stuffy rain gear in this heat.

My brain was still functioning enough to start thinking. I looked at the direction the rain was coming from, and compared it to the direction I was going. I reasoned if I left quickly that I could potentially outrun the rain. I stood there in indecision for a minute (which wasn't helping with the "outrun the rain" idea.) Then I decided to go for it.

I did make the decision to throw the pillow I use to rest my bad arm upon while I ride into a saddlebag. That way if it did start to rain hard the pillow wouldn't turn into a big sponge. Then I hopped on the bike and headed south trying to get ahead of the rain.

The rain must have been moving very slow because before I made it out of town I was already ahead of it. I didn't experience any more rain that day, not even little sprinkles. I'm really glad I won that gamble and wasn't having to deal with wearing my rain gear.

The temperature continued to climb as I rode. At one point I looked at my thermometer and saw 106°F. but most of the time it was around 102°F. I'm not sure why I still had all my protective gear on. I was sweating hard.

Between the heat, the pain of my butt and legs, and the pain of my now pillow-less shoulder, my foul mood was getting even darker.

This section of highway wasn't awful, but it probably wasn't as pretty as the original route through the mountains that I had designed.

I pressed on. What I lack in wisdom I make up for in tenacity. Each passing mile got me a mile closer to my hotel, and hopefully some relief from the day.

I made it to Ingard, ID. I briefly pulled into a gas station and attempted to adjust my AirHawk and bring some relief to my posterior. It didn't work.

Ingard is right on the Idaho border. On the other side of the river is Ontario, OR. I could have stayed on the Idaho side all the way to the interstate, but the GPS said that crossing the river and catching the interstate in Ontario was a couple minutes faster. I opted for the faster route.

Just over the border in Ontario I entered the interstate.

The 50 or so miles on I-84 from Ontario to Boise was uninspiring.

Rather than staying on the interstate all the way to Boise, the GPS routed me east on highway 26. This was the fastest route to my hotel, but I didn't realize it at the time, and wasn't expecting to get off the interstate at this point. Also, in my head I was already heading east. I got all disoriented.

I then had another "brain malfunction" incident. As I rode, I knew I should have been heading east, but when I looked at the GPS it looked like it was taking me north. I couldn't understand it. After a few miles of riding north, I started to panic that the GPS was taking me the wrong direction.

I really didn't have enough endurance or patience to put up with any additional miles or time added to this day. If the GPS was taking me north, then I had to pull over immediately and figure out which route I should actually be taking to correct the situation.

I pulled over on a side street and started to look at the GPS map. It was at this point I realized what I had done. The GPS shows you the route oriented from the driver's perspective. The driver on the GPS map is always pointed "up." My brain saw the "up" direction and interpreted it as north.

I wasn't actually heading north, I was correctly heading east. This is when the severity of my brain impairment really sunk in. I had been looking at the same GPS routing screen for about a week, and a couple thousand miles. Now all of a sudden my brain rearranged my thinking as to how it worked.

At this point I understood that what I was experiencing was more than just a little brain fog that we all have from time-to-time. Even in my impaired state the seriousness of my mental condition was becoming obvious.

It was now imperative that I needed to wrap this day as soon as possible. Thankfully at this point I only had about 15 miles left to get to the hotel.

The closer I got to the Boise metro area the heavier traffic became. About every half mile there was a stoplight, and it felt like I got stopped at every single one of them. I had little patience to deal with it, and was audibly lamenting every time a traffic signal slowed me down. I seemed to be on the verge of a toddler-esque temper tantrum.

After what seemed like an eternity, I arrived at the hotel. It was now a little after 4 PM. Had I not made the decision to shorten the day's mileage, I probably would have been riding until around 7 PM. It was good that I abbreviated the day.

I grabbed my bag from the bike and went into the lobby to check in. There were two ladies behind the counter helping me get registered. I found myself having a hard time answering basic questions, and would just stare at them blankly. At one point I realized what I was doing, and reassured the lady behind the counter that I wasn't taking drugs, but had just overheated my brain. I'm not sure she believed me.

In retrospect, when the temperature topped 95°F I should have removed my jacket. Continuing to wear it through the blistering triple-digit heat was a mistake. I may have been more protected in the event of a crash, but almost suffering heat stroke as a result was not an equitable trade.

After checking in, I took the elevator up to the 4th floor where my room was located. The room was pretty nice.

The room was split into two sections, in kind of a pseudo suite. The TV was placed in an odd spot between the two sections, where it wasn't easily visible no matter which room you were in. No matter, as I never did turn it on during my stay.

After dumping my gear on the couch, the very first thing I did was go over to the wall and crank up the air conditioner. Then I stripped down to my underwear. Sorry for the mental picture that statement may have invoked.

It was now around 4:30 PM, and I was bone-tired. I laid down on the bed, and given my exhaustion I figured I would quickly drift off to sleep. A nap would have probably done me a world of good. I never did fall asleep, which surprised me given how tired I felt. In the end that was probably a good thing as my sleep schedule was already out of whack, and a nap probably would have made things worse.

Instead of sleeping, however, I had a different weird experience. It was dreamlike, yet I wasn't asleep. I don't know how to accurately describe the way it felt. The best word I can come up with is "trance", but that word carries a lot of preconceived baggage with it. When you say you fell into a trance, people conjure images of a bad 1950's horror movie.

According to the dictionary, a trance is defined as "detachment from one's physical surroundings, as in contemplation or daydreaming. A semiconscious state, as between sleeping and waking; a daze." Given that description, I think it is accurate to say I fell into a trance. I wasn't asleep, but I wasn't really conscious either. I was dreaming, yet my eyes were open.

In my mind, it felt like I had returned to the summer of 1983. A flood of images and feelings filled my mind, and at times it was almost like I was there. Yet at the same time I was also aware that I was lying in an Idaho hotel room in 2024.

The memories of the summer of 1983 were vivid. I had recently completed the 8th grade, and had just turned 14 years old. Puberty was raging in my body that year, and my undeveloped mind didn't know how to process all these new feelings and intense emotions. I had my first experience with love that summer, or at least what I thought was love at the time. As happens so often with these young infatuations, my feelings were not reciprocated by the girl.

As I laid there in my Idaho hotel room recalling all the events of this summer in 1983, all the old feelings came rushing back. I could feel the excitement of new love, the primal urges of a 14-year-old boy, and the pain of rejection. It was like a flood of emotion happening all at the same time. Yet at the same time I was fully aware that it was now 2024, forty one years later. All the music from that summer was playing as a background soundtrack to these memories.

As I said, it was weird. I hesitate to even write about it for fear that someone labels me some sort of freak. At the same time, it was a profound and unique enough experience that I don't want to ignore that it happened.

I've never had anything like this happen before. The only thing I can attribute to having caused it was the fact that I had baked my brain in triple digit temperatures, and now it was doing its best to reset itself. Perhaps my mind needed to recall all the events of a fixed point in time from which it could benchmark all of my other thoughts and memories? I don't know.

I laid there for about forty minutes. Eventually my brain stopped replaying the memories, at which point I decided that sleep wasn't going to happen. I got up and started to think about eating some supper. Other than the mediocre tater tots I hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast, so I was getting hungry.

I pulled up a map and looked for restaurants near me. I was pretty sure I didn't want to get back on the motorcycle in order to ride somewhere to get food. So that limited me to what was within walking distance. There was a steakhouse right next to the hotel, and that sounded good. Unfortunately, it was closed.

From the small list of nearby restaurants that were open, I narrowed it down to two: a Thai place, and a pizza place. I decided at the moment the pizza place sounded the better option between the two.

I got dressed in some fresher clothes, and went out to the hall and summoned the elevator. When it arrived, I got in and waited for the door to close. The elevator sat there for a long time without moving, then finally took me down to the lobby. I pondered this for a moment, then it occurred to me that once I got in the elevator I had neglected to press a button. Eventually someone in the lobby summoned the elevator which is why it finally started to move. My brain was still toast.

I walked the quarter mile or so over to the pizza place.

I ordered two slices of pizza, then at the last second I felt hungry and had them throw a third one in the oven. They had a pitcher of water at the counter, and I chugged several glasses while I ate.

The pizza was OK, but nothing special. I probably should have gone with the Thai food restaurant.

After eating, I walked back to the hotel. Even as evening was arriving it was still oppressively hot.

I took the elevator up to my floor and walked to the room. For some reason the key card wouldn't open the door to my room. I kept inserting it and wiggling the knob, but nothing seemed to work. About the time I resolved myself to return to the front desk and get a new key, I looked at the room number. I was on the 2nd floor. My room was on the 4th floor. My brain had glitched again. I'm just glad whoever was staying in that room on the 2nd floor didn't greet me with a gun.

Once I made it to the correct floor, my room key worked fine. Imagine that.

I decided going for a swim sounded like a great idea. I had brought my swimsuit, so I put it on, then left the room and headed towards the pool.

Once again I got in the elevator. Only this time I made sure to press the button. Nothing happened. I pressed it again. Still nothing. I pressed it a third time. Then another guy who had gotten into the elevator the same time as I did pointed out that I kept pressing the "door close" button rather than the lobby button. I was really starting to get concerned at this point.

The pool area was a little busy, and there were no towels left. I briefly considered just bagging the idea of a swim, but decided it would do me good. I decided it was worth the trip back to my room to grab a towel. This time I successfully executed the elevator operation and returned with a towel from my room.

The water was a little cold, but that's probably exactly what I needed. The pool was a bit small, but I swam laps back and forth the best I could for about 20 minutes. It got the blood flowing through my limbs, cooled me off and once I was done I felt a lot better both mentally and physically.

I toweled off, then returned to my room. I was fully intending to take a shower and wash off the chlorine, but by the time I made it to the bathroom I had lost all energy and motivation. I know it's probably not the healthiest thing I've ever done, but I decided that the pool probably cleaned me off enough. I put on my sleeping clothes, shaved and brushed my teeth.

I called home for a few minutes, but tried to keep it short. I needed to go to bed and get a good night's sleep.

I'm not sure what time I crawled in bed, but it was fairly early. Probably somewhere around 9 PM. The mattress and pillows felt very good. So far on this trip I was 5-5 on mattresses and 3-5 on pillows.

Continue on to day 8...

Return To The Main Motorcycle Gallery

This page last updated on 12/10/2024

All website Content Property Of Terry Mashek (2003-2024 All rights reserved)