I’ve got solid plans on where to ride, but asked myself what I should do along the way.

Www.dogoodasyougo.org is on the list. I hope to volunteer along the way. Thanks to Gaila and Tad from www.overlandnow.com for the lead on this organization.

Asking random questions of strangers is another. “What do you think about women who ride motorcycles?” Or “What’s your one gem of wisdom that you’d like to share with the world?” Deep stuff like that.

Then a clever idea materialized while talking to a coworker. I call him Santa since he wears a refined Santa hat during the month of December. He’s also my mentor in chief. Who better than Santa, eh?

Sidebar here…
When my ex-husband decided to move to England but I chose not to follow, I packaged up his effects in a shipping container except, upon his request, to not ship his hidden and vast collection of porn. Nice. No better turn off than that kind of request.

What to do? Garbage? No, not poetic enough. Also, I didn’t think Half Priced Books would buy or touch them. So, I convinced a girl friend to drive with me to hand it out at the nearest strip club. Sure, I thought of shipping it to him so he’d have to answer to Queenie when he collected his belongings in UK Customs, but I’m not that cruel to follow through.

With my protective friend waiting outside the club and thinking I was nuts, I walked in to hand out the filthy goods. I’ve never been so immediately popular in all my life! Wait for it…

I brought in one box, set it on the bar and showed the barman the contents, and whether I could hand it out for free to the patrons. “Are you in ’em?” Blush city. I only shook my head no, and that’s when I saw the current attraction on stage jiggling around a pole. Then I knew I was nuts.

Guys started hovering over me and the box, offering to buy me drinks, and taking in my scent. Slimy as all get out, but as I declined I announced, “I’ve got another bag full in the car. I’ll be right back.” Phew!

I rushed outside and found my friend a half a block away with the booty, literally, in a carry-on bag slung over her shoulder. Yes, this required two trips. Lots of porn. He’s European. Sexy programming is normal over there during prime time. Shudder, you prudes!

I walked back in, hefted the second batch on the bar, “Kinky stuff.” a round man said with a smoke bouncing in his mouth.

The barman noticed a luggage tag on the bag and suggested I take it with me. “Take me with you too!” said another younger man.

I got out without being goosed, walked with my friend to a nearby bar and then laughed and drank off the adrenaline; moreover, I let go another little piece of my now exhusband.

The point here is that I’ve found some other memorabilia from my recent relationship. Santa said I should donate it. I suggested I leave a little behind in every state I visit on my ride. Great thinking. Sometimes these eureka moments require collaboration.

So, depending on packing space, I’ll take the cards, trinkets, and maybe my former engagement ring and find a new home for them. No strip clubs this time. Sorry, but it’s the digital age.

Here’s to letting things go, and not getting goosed in strip clubs.

Pack safe.