Cutworms & Dupuytren’s Contracture
We made it home Sunday by 2:00ish and the first thing I did was go look for cutworms on my tomatoes. I’M SORRY! I should have checked the dogs and the chickens and the rabbits and I did acknowledge them, I really did, but I just knew cutworms were killing my tomatoes so I ran out there with my trusty Harbor Freight All Purpose Scissors and a plan to save what little tomato plants I might have left. I found only 2 cutworms that were eating leaves and vine; a couple of regular worms eating a couple of tomatoes and nothing else but a zucchini as long as my leg…apparently no one checked the zucchini. I can live with that.
Our trip home was void of excitement. As soon as we hit Missouri I only paid attention enough to keep us from getting hurt and from running out of gas. I have traveled these same roads so many times that I know them like the back of my hand and could almost do them blindfolded…but I won’t. The heat was up so we were sweating pretty good so I did the “wet down the shirt” trick and also the “ice cubes in my bra” trick so I was fine but 10 days and heat and the Ride-In™ and no breaks and our age wiped us out.
We pulled up in the driveway and everything looked just fine. After I checked the garden I checked dogs, who were very excited to see us and chickens, who could care less but are curious and always come running and rabbits, that feign complete boredom. Dave pulled his bike into the garage in preparation of breaking it down to find his brake fluid leak and I went into the house to strip down and check mail.
I know all of the above isn’t really about riding motorcycles but it is about life and I think that all of us have the same feelings about life and motorcycles and what happens to us when we get home after 10 days or more out. I remembered the first day of the trip when I was so excited about leaving and the anticipation of what roads I would travel and what I would see…but there is also gratification and satisfaction upon returning from that trip to the home that envelopes you like your mother’s arms or a warm blanket and puts the trip in perspective. We had returned. Dave rode for 9 days without rear breaks and while pulling a trailer through some seriously twisty road in West Virginia and beyond. I made it home without dropping my wing and actually with more confidence as I had been put into some situations where I needed to do some tight U-turns (a/k/a made wrong turns) and I made them in style.
As I said we are tired and I am not only tired but I also noticed that the fingers on my right hand won’t quite straighten out but more form into the letter “C.” I have the heredity disease called Dupuytren’s Contracture. YES, it is a real thing. My mother’s father had it, my mother has it and now me. My daughter is not excited about her destiny to say the least. I find it funny that it is most prominent in my right hand…my throttle hand. As I continue to ride these long rides, I think that perhaps that is causing the situation to get worse at a faster pace…but maybe not. Maybe it is what it is and I just need to get used to the idea that at some point I am going to have to have surgery. There is no pain really, just a very ugly palm and a ring finger that is being drawn down. I have to smile because as it gets worse, I might not be able to do many things but that hand will be able to grip and turn the throttle…look it up. Not pretty.