Sand and Spit

We’re home from vacation. Sigh. Unwillingly and unhappily. Sad emoji. I was born to be filthy rich, but my ancestors didn’t put in the effort required to fund my preferred lifestyle. I shouldn’t complain because we did get more than a week of wonderfulness, but I’m going to anyway. Not here, of course, because my whining is boring, so go ahead and read on. Also, I’ll have another post about the vacation because there is just too much to tackle in one post.

We took the Goldwing, but we haven’t become very adept at packing. This is only the third time we’ve attempted a motorcycle vacation and it shows. Mostly because The Viking is a cranky control freak.

Back in the bad old days, when we packed the fifth wheel for every holiday, we had completely separate tasks that rarely over-lapped. He had nothing to do with stocking the towels, clothes and condiments. I had nothing to do with filling propane bottles and checking tire pressures. The only time we had to confer was in regard to how many times we would be eating steak and bacon (every meal) and how much beer and Baileys I needed to buy (a lot). This motorcycle packing is an entirely different beast though. It turns out that I am in charge of gathering things and The Viking is in charge of complaining about the items I’ve gathered and packing those items into the bags.

I started my ‘gathering stuff’ a couple days in advance, all the items grouped into categories, sealed in Ziplocks and labelled appropriately. I put all my clothes into a large Ziplock bag and squeezed the air out of it so it took up less space, and wrote lists of what needed to be done before we left. I brought out the custom bags that fit perfectly in the trunk and side bags of the bike and thought I had everything under control.

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Just to be clear, I did not presume to put anything in a bag. I clearly remember last year’s debacle and simply laid out the bags and piles on the kitchen table so The Viking could mumble incantations and work the intricate magic involved in his packing system. I took up position on the opposite side of the table and waited for instructions.

“Beach Towels.”

“Yes Sir!” I handed them over respectfully with a snappy salute. I folded them wrong, apparently, and there was a heavy sigh and several seconds of head shaking while he re-folded them properly and put them in the bottom of a bag. With great exaggeration for instructional purposes.

“Laptop.”

I had put the power cords in the outside pocket of the laptop bag and that was a colossal blunder.

“You can’t put the cords with the laptop because any weight on top of it…” he mimics pushing down on the laptop, “will break it.” He continues mimicking the pushing and breaking for an entire 30 seconds. Okay, he has a point. I’ll give him that.

My vacuum-packed clothes were an issue for some unknown reason. It probably wasn’t magic enough. He mumbled something about it being too wide to fit and bashed the side bag skinny-full-ly several times to make his point. “See?! It won’t fit. You have to be very careful that you don’t make the bag too wide, or the side bag cover won’t close. See?!”

I nodded enthusiastically like I had learned something new, hoping he wouldn’t carry on for another 6 minutes on the intricacies of motorcycle packing. As he dumped my clothes…..

“You only need 5 pairs of underpants.” Counting them out and handing me the remainder.

“But we’re going to be gone for 10 days.”

“You’re lucky I’m allowing you 5! You can wash them in the sink. I’ve been taking motorcycle trips for 107 years and have never packed more than 3 pairs of underpants even for a 6-month trip. And I washed them out with only one cup (250ml) of water that I recycle to make myself some coffee with nothing more than a Bic lighter and tin foil. I’m sure you can make do.”

“Should I buy travel-size laundry soap?”

“What?!! Are you crazy?!! We’ll use sand and spit.”

He dismantled my entire Ziplock system, including the Ziplock containing all the chargers for all of our electronics. He gave a Ted Talk on how a Ziplock of something takes up too much room, but individual items can be put into nooks and crannies. He explained with examples, best practices and techniques. He did make one concession for Ziplocks and that was when it came to things that might leak, like shampoo. He also gave a short lecture on where things go depending on their squishiness – hard things go here, and soft things go there. At least that’s what I think he was explaining; I had stopped listening at sand and spit because my lady parts were shrieking.

I finally walked away and left him to his dark magic. He may VooDoo everything into the bags easier but just wait until he’s looking for his toothbrush and has to unpack every damned bag to find it. That goes for tablets and phone chargers, too. He should have made a detailed luggage map with the location of every item at a bare minimum, but what do I know?

I’m not saying that I could do a better job packing the bike, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be so cranky and explain-y.