It’s just in me, I reckon… My sister-in-law, originally from east Texas, says that about folks when they appear to be doing anything that seems beyond their ability to control… We all have a few things that would fit neatly into such a scenario… like…

I sometimes suffer from the paralyzing effects of inertia… or some variation of procrastination, if you prefer. It seems I’m not alone in that predicament, but that’s another story. The purpose here is to point out that I am such a person, but, happily, that I’ve also found a reliable ‘tonic’ that always works, usually far beyond my expectations. You know it variously as ‘wind therapy’ or some other witty metaphor, but for me it’s just that simple… When in doubt, head out!

Matthew had just blown through, and the predictable aftermath, assuming one sustained no injury or damage, is the feeling of relief and joy… and restlessness. Yep, the temp had dropped several degrees and the humidity was a fraction of what it had been recently, too. WOW! ALI was practically pleading with me to get her out from under the cover and let her run.

I, of course, was coming up with all sorts of ‘good’ reasons to remain stationary. Even I could only fight the unmistakable call of the open road for so long, though. I’d actually been engaged in one of my many stealthy forms of ‘justified’ procrastination at the time… when my ability to put-off truly important stuff was finally overcome.

Yep, I was on my laptop surfing the net, visiting a few familiar sites here and there, ordering a couple of things online (who knew guys can be such shoppers too?) … posting messages on our board… You know, all that ‘necessary’ stuff we seem to just have to do. It struck me that… well, that I was wasting what little time I have remaining piddling around, and that I should go while I still can. Only piddling time will be here soon enough…

I forced myself to finish packing the brand new T-Bag I’d bought online recently to replace the most recent one we’d worn slap out through significant usage.  Surprise! Everything fit! Just barely, though… Ever notice how things always fit just right when we’re loading up for a road trip… but, three days later you can’t pound, stuff, refold, or roll all your crap so it will all fit back into your bags? I refer to this phenomenon as ‘cargo swelling’. It doesn’t help if you pick up additional ‘essential’ items along the way, either.

I hauled everything out to ALI, strapped it all into place, returned to the house to finish my ‘personal’ preparations, then… I set the choke and turned the key. Nothing… Oh, I might as well push the starter button too… She roared to life instantly… eagerly… she needed this as much as I did, and she wasn’t messing around here either!

It is important to note that all of the activity up to that point was more or less forced. I had to overcome one of the many features of inertia… a seeming lack of energy, motivation, and enthusiasm to get up and get out. I’m starting to wonder if this may be the most insidious aspect of this condition… Perhaps that’s why we are so slow to undertake the cure… I mean, a good thought is one thing, actual exertion and effort quite another…

Well, once I threw my leg over her saddle and settled my delicate derriere onto that comfy Ultimate booty holder, everything changed! Now it seemed as though effortless willing of things to happen was all that was required…

Muscle memory has to figure into this somehow, but no conscious thought followed by effort generated through deliberate transference of instructions to appendages is ever noticed… Nope, it’s time to go, so the throttle gets twisted, the clutch released, and the feet automatically find their way to the Cobra floorboards… It’s almost like dreaming of floating along on a cloud… except that your eyes had better be open!

It usually takes less than a mile for a recurring series of thoughts to cross my mind… Why am I doing this now? Why haven’t I been out here already? How could I possibly sit in that house when I could have been doing this? Do we need a government program to remedy that condition?

Soon enough we were cruising down the road, and all was well in the cosmos… I happened to glance at the trip log… Yep, I’d parked our girl without topping off again, so now some push water was going to be required. No biggie, a familiar station was just up ahead… Done, then back out there… This is really living!

I’d chosen a route… well, actually a route had evolved as we ridden along, but it was still familiar to us, as all are… There are just so many ways in and out of Florida, and I have spent most of my life down there… so… Anyway, I set a couple of mental ‘way points’ in my thinker muscle… Places where we could get a room…

We passed the first couple of places, but no need to stop yet, so we continued on to the next… and the next… At last, I decided to stay in Eufaula, AL… We’d made it close enough to be within easy riding distance from an important early item I wanted to address… I’d missed that on our last trip, but this time there simply was no excuse…

CF Penn Hamburgers was introduced to me in June 1962. My family had moved to Decatur, AL, then, and the first guy I’d met was a neighbor, Bobby Dempster. Well, fifteen-year-old boys being what they are, we wound up doing a bit of exploring… and CF Penn was an early introduction that he assured me would be an important one… He was right… far more so than I could have imagined at the time.

I instantly fell in love with those delightful morsels, and my affection has only grown over the years. Even though I spent three years in the Army, and I returned to Florida in 1970 to live for the next thirty-five years, I managed to stop by Penn’s at least once in every calendar year, including this one.

My niece called me a week or two ago to let me know Penn’s almost closed, but they were still there after all… for now… Dang! Now you see why it is imperative I go there again… just in case… I never thought that day would come, but now I feel a strong need to support that business as best I can.

Penn burgers are an acquired taste, but not something requiring a sophisticated palate by any means… In all candor, I’m quite sure that for me anyway, it has at least as much to do with nostalgia as it does with flavor. I’m in the minority on this, according to my own unscientific, not statistically valid study of the matter…

Folks I know generally fall into one of three groups, when it comes to this particular dining experience. There are those who will accompany me there and join me in devouring a few (my riding bud, Jim Dorman, is such a person). There are also those who will accompany me there, but will not eat even one (Napper is such a person). Then there is the other half of my acquaintances who won’t even go there with me in the first place (my ex-wife is such a person).

Well, stopping in Eufaula had positioned us nicely to arrive in Decatur for an early afternoon gastronomic event… the much anticipated royal repast! Naturally my arrival time will depend in part upon when I depart this motel… It seems nippy outside just now, so I’ve been dilly-dallying to slow the pace of activity and thereby allow for a more pleasant ride shortly… Hmmmmm…

I wonder if this just might be another of my curious idiosyncrasies at work here, too…? I have this thing… I call it dietary foreplay… that I employ to heighten meal expectations and to get the ‘juices’ flowing… Am I subconsciously setting myself up for a taste-bud extravaganza?