Ottawa – USA Trip 2009 Part 8 of 9

A Man Called Wayne
The Last Stretch

A Man Called Wayne

On the north coast of the Georgian Bay, Ontario, we found a campsite at Thessalon. It was noisy and crowded and I wouldn't stay there a second time but you could see the Bay from our campsite. As I was getting ready for bed, an older man walked over to the water's edge and asked me if that was Lake Huron. I said that it was the Georgian Bay and that Lake Huron was over to the right a bit, just beyond our view. He spoke with a southern American accent, and when I asked him where he was from, he said, “Orlando, Florida”. I commented that he was a long way from home and I asked him where he was heading. I was not expecting the reply he gave me. He was silent for a while and then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes. He said, “My dear wife just died in April. I'm all alone now. We have married children living all over N. America and we have grandchildren that we've never seen. My wife knew that she'd never get to see them, she was at her terminal stage, so she made me promise to go and see all our grandchildren soon after her death. So, I bought a Kawasaki motorcycle and I saw my kids and grand kids living in Texas. I have more grand kids in Seattle and some in living on Vancouver Island in Canada. I saw them too. I've got more in Prince Edward Island in Canada and in New York City as well. I bought the bike because I thought it would be the best way to see my country and Canada as well.” When I asked him when he expected to return home, he said, “September 30/09.” I was filled with admiration for this man. When he was leaving the next morning, he stopped by my campsite to show me his bike and I noticed that his tires were worn-out. I told him to find a Kawasaki dealer in nearby Sudbury right away before he went anywhere else - or he might never make it back home in one piece. His front and rear tires were so bald that the layers of ply were frayed and beginning to show through. They needed to be replaced right away for his own safety. He thanked me and said that he would see to it first thing. Wayne was seventy-one years old.

The Last Stretch

We were back in familiar territory now but we still had one very long day of riding ahead of us, or two easy riding days. I'd been away for twenty-four days and I was anxious to get home but Brad was having such a good time that he was hoping that we could have an extra day on the road and the extra night camping. We were making such good time though that it became evident that we could reach Ottawa by early evening if we rode hard and fast, so we turned on the throttle and made it home that same day. We even took time out to go to a restaurant in the town of Pembroke on the Ottawa river where we stuffed ourselves with pizza and pop. So, perhaps you can understand why I say it was the best trip of my life. It was the hardship, the challenges, the excitement and the achievements that made us feel GREAT, but most of all – it was the people we met. As we rode home through the streets of Ottawa, I hummed, “Mission Accomplished” to the melody of La Golondrina (Grupo salvage) from Sam Peckinpah's classic 1969 movie – The Wild Bunch.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GjqkHULSOtw&feature=related

What a fantastic experience!