The June “pit stop” called by the pilot was longer than expected.  Part of the delay was due to financial obligations and the need to replenish bank accounts, and part was due to some medical needs.  Upon their return to the USA cars and motorcycles were put up for sale, Gregory sold a few words and requests to insurance companies by Donna-Rae were put in bureaucratic pipelines.

     Donna-Rae scheduled visits with her doctors to get the Parkinson’s medicine, a cocktail of various drugs, back in balance.  Unfortunately, before the balance was obtained, she passed out while driving to one of her many doctor appointments.  She unconsciously steered her car into the back of the one stopped in front, fast enough for her airbag to explode.  At the hospital she complained more of the neck injuries from the impact of the air bag exploding in her face than the fact that she totaled out her car.  Fortunately, the driver and passengers in the other car were not injured.

     About the same time Gregory was hobbling into his doctors office. X-rays quickly confirmed the knee he had been complaining about for several years needed to be replaced, the ball and joint were like two pieces of burnt toast rubbing against each other.  His self-medication of massive intakes of Ibuprofen, Aspirin, Tylenol, and Glucosamine, besides being ineffective, were killing other body parts.  The doctor said it was no surprise “Frazier the Friendly Moose” (the title of Donna-Rae’s latest book) had become “Greg the Grumpy Gimp.”

     It was decision time again for the Captain of their two wheel ship; whether to get themselves financially and physically healthy, at the expense of further delaying Donna-Rae’s “Ride The Dream” around the world, or put a band aid on the problems and deal with them later.  To schedule Gregory’s surgery and recovery meant at least a four-month delay.  Donna-Rae’s new cocktail of Parkinson’s drugs would be good for the next few months.  Both Gregory and Donna-Rae had stocked up on pills to aid sleeping.   Gregory realized that trying to stench the flow of red ink in checking accounts and credit card balances might never succeed.  He also knew that a four-month delay would also mean cold and possibly impassable snow at the North Cape, Norway, their last “furthest point” to be tagged on their ride around the world.  After a year they had managed nearly three fourths of their ride around the planet and it seemed the last quarter might slip from their grasp and end in failure if they waited for things to be right.

     To divert the flow of red ink an option was changing to other accounts, hopefully fooling bankers and bill collectors.  Donna-Rae stocked up on her new mix of Parkinson’s medicine and told her insurance companies she would, “call them back”.  Gregory’s mother sent two new pair of lightweight, easily hand-washed underwear, black, one for Donna-Rae and one for her son, to replace their worn out clothing.  Grumpy Greg gimped into his friendly motorcycle doctors office and begged a steroid shot between the ball and the joint of his worthless knee, good he was told,  “for two or three months.” 

    In August with new clothes, new credit cars and new wonder drugs, they flew back to their stored BMW motorcycle in Europe.  Both were more worried about Custom officials going through their luggage and having to explain the drug store of tablets they were carrying than the dangers of riding quickly to the North Cape and beyond.  As they cautiously passed through the “Nothing To Declare” line at German Customs they thought, “Nothing matters, we’re back on the road, headed to the top of the globe.”

     Here in Sweden, headed north, Donna-Rae was happy to be pointed in that direction.  Gregory, just moments before, stumbled over the rocks on the shore while trying to frame a “perfect photo” for a magazine that would pay $100.00 for an article and photo.  He stumbled while changing lenses on his Canon cameras and managed to drop a $200.00 lens to self-destruction.  Financially the final leg of their ride around the world was off to a bloody start.

The ride to the North Cape had taken Gregory four days the last time he made it.  With a passenger, shorter riding days, and more sight seeing, he budgeted seven days for this run with Donna-Rae. The plan was to leave some wiggle-room in their schedule to sit out extreme cold and wet weather, as well as accommodate a slower pace.  Whereas Gregory, when he rode solo, usually managed 12 hours a day.  With Donna-Rae he was averaging six to eight hours.  Part of the difference was due to conflicting goals.  Gregory liked to ride roads and cared little about souvenir shopping, climbing steps or over rocks in ruins of historical sites.  For Donna-Rae this part of the world was new and she wanted to collect as much as she could, knowing well this might be the last time she would be able to do so.  They were also fighting a schedule tied to airline tickets purchased in advance for savings and a plan to get across Asia and back to the USA before the fall weather.  What had originally been planned as a twelve-month ride around the world had already slipped past the end dates.

Gregory believes “castles, ruins, museums, churches, and souvenir shops look best when you ride your motorcycle past them at 120 kilometers-per-hour, unless it is a motorcycle museum.”  Donna-Rae, hanging off the back of the motorcycle at 120 kilometers-per-hour, captured many castles like this one in Sweden.  While she yearned to stop and “tourist,” she knew they were on a tight schedule.