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Harpers Ferry, Kearneysville, Shepherdstown, West Virginia

A vacation from vacation

My epic journey around  the country on a motorcycle is over for now and reality has reared its ugly head. Now what? For the past week I’ve been in vacation mode. I know that sounds odd, but when you consider the daily travel and job-like persistence of my daily blogging, it feels like I never stopped putting in a serious effort since leaving my last real job on October 7th 2011. Although the travel, writing, and photography were wonderful and highly stimulating, a break is still welcoming. This past week has been a breather. A moment in time to easily break myself in to a more settled lifestyle.

Last Thursday Igor, Brittany, and I went to Harpers Ferry to attempt to film a wrap-up video to compliment the prologue that was filmed before I took off. Our filming was halted when a swarm of mayflies decided to hold Harpers Ferry hostage just like John Brown did one hundred and fifty years ago. I sat there trying to focus on Igor’s camcorder lens, while Brittany was holding the light reducing circle thing over me. Mayflies dive bombed us the whole time. Igor kept his focus on the task quite well while Brittany and I swatted frantically when one of those six-legged terrorists would land right on our face. We may have squeezed a couple of minutes of film in before realizing that I wouldn’t be able to sit still long enough to create any worthy dialog. Igor agreed to attempt another film session later on somewhere else, preferably insect free.

On Friday, Igor met up with us again, this time to snag his microphone that he left behind. He then battled a rainy, hour and a half, ride on his Buell back to his home near Washington DC. Our whole day was a wash, literally, until we made it to my good buddy, Cody’s, house. It was time for my welcoming home party. Cody graciously let us invite who ever we wanted. Most of my regular crew made an appearance. In typical fashion, my wild and wonderful friends made for an exciting time. Bottles quickly emptied, the musics volume creeped up, and before long people were shaking legs and wrestling. Brittany and I stayed dead sober, despite heavy peer pressure. Normally I am the one who takes it to the limit, but since my drinking switch turned off on the road trip, I had the chance to watch my friends from a new set of eyes. It wasn’t so bad, but not nearly as fun as it could have been. All in all, it was great to catch up with friends who I haven’t seen in a long while.

Motocross dominated the next few days and it couldn’t have come sooner. Saturday, Sunday, and Monday were spent at our two practice tracks. Most of the time, my brother Shane and my friend Porkchop took turns on the skid steer, building new jumps, widening the track, and getting rid of rain ruts. I jumped in the cockpit a few times to relieve the guys when they needed a break. Once the work was done it was time to play. Finally my mx fix happened. Shane, Porkchop, and I pounded out lap after lap on a perfectly groomed track. It soon became apparent that riding the Goose daily for four months did nothing to help my on-track endurance. Three laps was all it took for my arms to pump up and hands to go numb. Speed-wise, I was still able to lay down a quick lap. It felt great to throw a leg over an offroad bike, but was an eye-opening experience regarding my lack of physical conditioning. Motocross is ALWAYS harder than it seems.

I have two MX bikes. One is a Honda CRF250 and the other is a Honda CRF450, both are 2008’s. My 450 would start perfectly and idle on point, but would bogg and cut out every time the rpm’s increased. This led me to spend the whole entire day on Tuesday working on the 450. It turns out that the crankshaft is ruined due to corrosion from rust. Four months of sitting took its toll on the engine. The oil in the engine naturally drained to its lowest point, exposing the raw metal of the crankshaft and crank bearings to enough condensation over the last few months to cause a problem. The fix will approach $1000, so for now I’ll have to stick to riding the 250 until I get some income and parts. My 250 was ridden by a friend of mine while I was on the road and that one ride allowed the engines oil to lube up everything enough to fight off any rust. Who knew?

Wednesday was the last day of vacation from vacation. Wednesday was the dreaded, job hunting, day. I need income, not desperately yet, but it won’t be long before my little bunch of bills catch up to me. Brittany and I headed to my mom’s house for some laundry and wi-fi. While the clothes were going through the wringer, I was creating a resume and searching for part-time jobs on-line. Not unexpectedly, I found myself becoming incredibly frustrated while filling out applications. After all, my trip was about finding answers and breaking the cycle of moving from pointless job to pointless job. My work history is scattered, diverse, ever-changing, and a future employers nightmare. Every time the application would need the work history part filled out, I cringed. I’ve had more jobs than anyone I know and I know that I’m not cut out for anything but self employment. My talents don’t lie in fields that require direction from others. When left to my own devices, I can accomplish anything that I put my mind too, build anything that I can imagine, and work independently efficiently. Eventually, after submitting a few applications, I felt sick to my stomach and left mom’s vowing to make it on my own. Right now the only things going for me are my low debt burden, my new hobbies of writing and photography, that I don’t plan to give up at all, and my belief that I’m going to find what I’m looking for. The motorcycle adventure may be over, but the next adventure, the mysterious one where I find my passion and go with it, is still hanging there like a carrot on a stick. I’m going after it.

P.S. Stay tuned for weekly updates and an e-book soon. I have already started writing it. Indirect Redirection will transition into an outlet that I’ll use to keep the creative juices flowing. Expect pictures and a bit of writing weekly.


About mikekrabal

I'm a fella who finally let the inner traveler come out. A non-standard sort.


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About Me

My name's Mike Krabal and I am from Jefferson County WV. I'm a thirty year old guy who still believes that you can be anything you want to be. I'm on a mission to find out exactly what that is.

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