2004-10-03 - 12:05 a.m.

On the internal soundtrack: "Ask", The Smiths

Sunday, October 3

One of the things I can't stand about myself is my tendency to fret endlessly over some little stupid thing. I hate this. I'm doing this right now. I have pretty much decided that I have to go back and again and tell the guy what I wanted to tell him, but I'm still fretting, so I'm going to see if I can put it to rest by writing about it.

This is not the kind of thing I ordinarily do. I'm motivated to write when I'm happy, not when I'm anxietizing. I like to tell you about my anxietizing after the fact. But I'll try it.

Today I went back to Burlington Coat Factory, where the great coat organizer works. I was kinda hoping I would see him again, so I could say something to him about how much I appreciated his work. (What I was going to say, I had no idea.) He had told me last time that they had a lot of good leather this year, and while I was there to look at bags and other accessories, I thought I'd take a look at the leather and see if they had a nice brown suede coat. I have one that my grandmother gave me (it was hers), but it's a little too big and is falling apart. (I would also like to see I can find a tailor who can remake it for me, since I love the color, but I was already at BFC, so...)

ANYWAY.

The leather section is blocked off from the rest of the store, like a separate room. Upon entering that room, I saw that they had a policy where they wanted you to check your bags so you can't shoplift. I was carrying a small bag with my coupons, camera, and a pair of socks in it. So I stood in the doorway and tried to see if there was anything worth checking my bag for, because -- and I cannot emphasize this enough -- I. FUCKING. HATE. THAT. POLICY.

I understand why they do it, but I HATE IT. I don't like giving my stuff to strangers, and I don't like their treating everyone as though they're a potential shoplifter. I will walk a mile to return the odd penny, so it REALLY grates on me. In general I will walk out of stores that have the policy because I dislike it so strongly. As if that weren't enough, as a deaf person it even becomes slightly embarrassing because people will chase me across a store yelling to get my attention and of course I don't hear them until they're right on top of me. Ugh.

I saw Organizer Guy but wasn't sure at first that it was him, since he was in a t-shirt (last time he was dressed up). He came over, motioned toward my bag and said something about checking it. I smiled at him, said "I'll just skip it. Thanks!" and left. I don't think I sounded bitchy, because I like this guy, but I hate the policy so much that I was seeing a bit red at the time.

After that I was wandering around on the same floor looking for an umbrella for Poindexter, and Organizer Guy came up to me and said, "I'm sorry, if I don't take the bag I'll get fired." I said, "Oh, I know, I know, I don't take it personally or anything. It's just a policy that I don't like, so..." I didn't even get to see if the guy was OK with all of this, because he ran off again. I guess I'll just hope that my earnestness and good-naturedness or whatever came across in the interaction.

Ugh.

So I missed my opportunity to tell the guy how much I appreciated his work and instead probably was just one in a long line of bitchy horrible customers and so I'm fretting. So I have to go back again. What for, I don't know. I'm not buying leather from that store. Maybe I can drop in on my way somewhere else. And then he probably won't be there.

Well, I think maybe it took the edge off the fretting. Now I'll try my usual method of dealing with it: Changing the subject. I'm going to go write about dirt biking.

So Poindexter got a new dirt bike. He's been talking about this bike off and on for the last six months or so as though it were the Holy Grail of Dirt Bikes. When I realized he was really stuck on it, I said, "Well, buy it." In fact, shortly before he bought it I said, "You're not getting any younger, so I think you should buy this while you can still enjoy it." He liked that one. It's true, though -- when he got all huffy, I reminded him that every time he rides he moans and groans about what an old man he is because he's so sore from the riding.

So he bought the bike, last weekend. We brought that thing home and he was like a kid on Christmas. He kept grinning big huge toothy grins. He hugged it. He stood and looked at it. And he hadn't even RIDDEN it yet.

Riding finally happened yesterday. We went for a day trip to Tower City (was supposed to be a two-day camping trip, but the rain Thursday caused a change in plans). He was ECSTATIC. He said the bike GOES! It wants to GO! LET'S GO! LET'S GO! And the suspension is so fantastic that he can barely feel the rocks compared to his old bike. The handling is incredible. Etc. etc. -- supply your own list of superlatives. It is wonderful to see him so happy and enjoying it so much. There have been times I wished I could just get inside his head for a second so I could feel what he's feeling for a moment.

In less dramatic but still exciting news, I did not forget anything despite not having ridden for a year. I did not fall off. I did some things I have not done before. I was quite pleased. And I really had a blast. At one point we stopped for a rest and I yelled "I'M HAVING SUCH A GOOD TIME!!!!!!" I really love riding around following trails between the trees and riding past all the old mining equipment and abandoned buildings.

Now would probably be a good time to talk about camping at Tower City and post the damn pictures that I took a year ago.

We camped there sometime last month. Labor Day weekend, that was it. I had kinda been hoping that we could have some nice talks while we were there, but something happens to both of us when we are in the middle of nowhere -- our brains go blank. This is quite nice, in its own way. Our conversations go like this:

Evelynne: It's very quiet.
Poindexter: Yep.
[long pause]
Poindexter: We're roughing it.

When we went to bed, it was pitch black. We had to use the flashlight to walk to the Port-a-Potty. I had trouble falling asleep because so many people were arriving late to camp for the weekend (bastards!). It finally quieted down sometime after 1am, and then at 4am Poindexter woke up and got up to pee. I figured I might as well get up too since I was awake. And then I noticed, "Wow, it's really bright in here."

Poindexter doesn't wear a watch, so he had thought it was nearly morning. There was a moon and a lot of clouds, so the moonlight was reflecting off the clouds and it was bright enough to see EVERYTHING. We could see the trees, the potty in the distance, the other trucks, the permanent campsite structures, the rocks on the ground, EVERYTHING. We didn't need a flashlight at all. It was brighter than dusk, even. I was blown away. I remember playing outside and being able to see my shadow in the moonlight when I was a kid, but it didn't make the same impression on me then that it did now. I felt giddy, almost drunk on moonlight. It took me quite a while to fall back asleep.

Now, pictures. Tower City Trail Riders, Inc. is a private club in central Pennsylvania wherein the club has a contract with local private landowners to ride on their lands. There is a similar thing going on at Hatfield-McCoy, or "Trails Heaven". The landowners are all coal mining companies, and we are allowed to ride basically anywhere they haven't roped off. There are lots of spots where there is still active mining going on, and other places where equipment and buildings were abandoned decades ago and nature is taking over again. And some places in between.

Here's a picture of a shack by a trail:

The trail you see there is a typical trail, the kind of thing I spend most of my time on. I see a lot of butterflies. There are also some wider roads that the mining trucks use and "play areas" with coal mining by-products, like this one (look at those lunatics -- I can't breathe watching them ride up that hill):

You will often see old rusting mining buildings and equipment, just left there to rot. My college boyfriend's father grew up in mining country, and they took me to see an old quarry or whatever you call it, which had filled up with water. They told me that those big huge mining machines are down there under the water, because they don't need them anymore once the job's done. It's creepy. Anyway, I have no idea what this is, but it looks cool:

And yes, that's me in my "cue ball" helmet. Don't I look excited? I can tell from the way I'm holding my hands.

This is inside the building in the picture:

Other buildings have been abandoned longer and nature is reclaiming them. Here's a building not far from the shack in the first picture:

And here's the inside of that building:

Here's some random piece of equipment, framed by the lovely mountain views:

Here's an old section of train tracks and what appears to be a trestle. It's just in the middle of forest, with no apparent reason to be there:

I don't know who that guy is with the blue dot over his face.

Out in an open field there is a big pit. This parent and child (lookit the training wheels! So cute!) are looking down into said pit:

This is what they're looking down at. As usual, nature's taking over:

One of my favorite sights are the abandoned trucks. The first is just a pickup, I think, and the second, well ... I just can't believe there's a dump truck buried in the dirt:

In early November we are going to head out to the Hatfield-McCoy trails for a week. I can hardly wait.

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