The Whys and Wherefores of My Motorcycle Tour

Many of my friends and acquaintances don't realize that I am living in a hotel. And many know, but don't really understand why.

The roots of my current status are long and deep. It has been many years since I first wanted to WANDER. And when I lost my job at the end of 2009, I wanted to spend some of my down time WANDERING. Vagabonding. Traveling. Touring.

I have many desires that are connected to wandering.


As a poet and songwriter, I feel called to wander as I ponder life. As I pen my memoirs.

My entire existence has been lived in the city. The suburbs. South Central Los Angeles. My adult life has passed me by at a blinding rate. At a speed that is toxic to the poet's heart within me. I want to slow down. Awaken the heart of poetry and love within me. Stir up my heart to sing new songs.


As a motorcyclist... a BIKER, I just want to have fun.

Riding along the highways and byways on my bike. Enjoying the freedom of the open road. The joy of the ride. The poetry of the journey.


As a human being and United States citizen, I want to see more of my beautiful country!

I feel like I haven't seen much our our great country in my 48 years on planet earth. And I want to.

I want to see the Liberty Bell. And Mt. Rushmore. And Niagra Falls. And so much more...

I want to go to Gettysburg. Roswell. Disney World. The Harry Potter theme park.

I want to see a show on Broadway. The Aurora Borealis. Yellowstone National Park.

I want to ride my motorcycle up the Pacific Coast. Historic Route 66. The Keys Highway.


As a Christian, I want to meet other believers. Lots of them.

I want to be like Jesus. I want to go from place to place, doing good.

I'm not saying that all Christians should abandon their homes, quit their jobs and wander around "doing good." Maybe some should. Maybe I should. But I'm not making a policy statement. I'm merely describing what is on my heart. For me. For now.

I saw a book about a guy who grew a beard, wore a robe, and traveled around the states for a year "being like Jesus," and I thought "How stupid!" Wearing a robe and a beard are the most superficial things that could possibly be construed as "being like Jesus."

If he really thinks being like Jesus is the same thing as DRESSING UP like Jesus, he is really missing the point.

I'd like to visit churches in different parts of the country. Different traditions. Different denominations. Different people. I'd like to worship with them. Pray with them. Fellowship with them.

I'd like to enter a new city, and pray for the Lord to send me somebody who needs help, who needs prayer. Maybe I can pray with them. Encourage them. Cry with them. Give them $50 for their electric bill, so their power doesn't get turned off today. Whatever.

I think if I step out in faith, open to anything, I might find some really interesting things happen.

Maybe even some GLORIOUS THINGS.

I would like that.


As a middle-aged woman, I want to escape the meaningless drivel that has been my experience of Corporate America.

According to experts, it is normal for people to transition from the pursuit of competence and achievement to the pursuit of meaning and purpose during the years of midlife.

I guess some people make this transition more gracefully than others...

If you think this is just fancy talk for a "mid life crisis," you're in good company. Many people who know me are thinking the same thing. And, honestly, if you want to call it that, it's ok with me. I'm in midlife. And, I'm in crisis. Of sorts.


Over the past 2-3 years, almost everything I use to identify myself in this world has been lost or is changing.

This is the normal human condition, of course... It just seems like I have more than my share heaped on my plate at the moment.


I lost my job, which is a big personal identifier for most of us.

I lost my home, which is the main personal identifier for almost everybody who doesn't use their job to define them. I sold or gave away my furniture and moved in with my sister in preparation for unemployment and job hunting.

No, I wasn't homeless. Yes, I was housed and fed and clothed. But I was certainly not living in my own place. And I wasn't a roommate, or an equal partner. I lived in somebody else's home. Which is different.

I thought this would be an ideal time to wander, being unemployed and sort of homeless. No responsibilities... OK, FEW responsibilities.

But I couldn't make it happen. Something was holding me back.


I also lost my church. I didn't lose my faith, my religion or my God.

But I lost something significant.

The place where I worshipped was primarily my Sunday school class. For those of you who don't attend church, Sunday school isn't just for kids. This was a class for adults, and it is where I have met the majority of my friends over the last twenty years. It was my favorite place to be.

My favorite hours of the week were spent there.

The pastor who led my Sunday school class was fired, and there seemed to be no provision for the members of our class to continue in attendance there.

Just as quickly as I lost a church, however, I also gained a church. My pastor, with most of us from our Sunday school class, started a new church. Which is wonderful. But different. And as wonderful as it is, it didn't come without pain and loss.

Job. Home. Church.

My health is changing as I traverse the murky waters of midlife. My childbearing years are gone. My ability to adapt and heal physically is in decline.

Job. Home. Church. Health. Gone. Changing. Declining.

Just when I thought I had lost everything I was going to lose...

My sister died suddenly and unexpectedly.

When I say suddenly, I mean one minute we were walking through a CVS to get a prescription filled, and then next minute she lay dying in my arms on the floor in the cough and cold aisle.

(I wrote more about her on my other blog. If you're one of those people who like to get the whole story, check it out.)


So, after spending a month or two in total numbness, I got up and decided to start my wandering.

And here I am.

I continued to live in my sister's house for a few months, and then moved to a long-term residence hotel closer to my church. Close to my friends. I just didn't see any reason to rent an apartment and make a home when I'm leaving on an extended season of travel in only a few months.

Hence the hotel.


As I have been dealing with my sister's possessions, I have started to make final preparations for my life on the road. I have sold or given away most of my possessions. I bought a motorcycle to take on tour with me. The few possessions I am keeping are stowed with friends and family against the day I might come to reclaim them.

And I am now sorting through the last few boxes.


People ask me how long I will be gone. And I want to tell them I'm never coming back. But my friends don't want to hear that.

But, it doesn't mean that I'll never come HERE again.

It just means that I'm moving forward. It means that I expect to grow as I wander. It means, that the next time I come to Southern California, I'll be a different me.

I'm not coming BACK. But I'm probably coming around again...

I'm living on the road indefinitely. For the forseeable future. When I'm ready to stop, I'll stop. And I'll rent an apartment or buy a house.

I don't know where or when that will be. And I don't want to know right now. I want to find out as I go.

I don't just want to get to the destination. I want to DISCOVER the destination as I FOLLOW THE PATH.

In the meantime, a lot of roads lead to Southern California!

So, I'll probably keep coming around for a long time...


If you want to follow my wanderings keep your eyes on this blog. My itinerary is on my 2011 Tour page.


lovin it on 2 wheels
ramona denton