Zen And The Last Hurrah II.

Our Trip Following the ZMM Route Summer 2006.

On Same Bikes As Narrator and John Sutherland.

In July 1968 a mentally insecure philosophy professor began a motorcycle ride across the US with his not yet 12 year old son. His name was Robert Pirsig and the journey from St Paul across to San Francisco was immortalized in his subsequent best selling book Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. His focus on the metaphysics of quality and his deep philosophical arguments have led the book to be referenced as required reading across a broad spectrum of university degrees ranging from Engineering through English to Sociology, Physics, Psychology and Philosophy. Although it has been a hugely popular book, with many proponents claiming it has changed their lives and the way they look at things, for most it is a difficult and very challenging read. The philosophies are often deep and confusing as he challenges thinking dating back to Socrates usually through his other persona Phaedrus. All this cerebral activity is interwoven with an epic road trip told with clarity and a disarming frankness. Pirsig tells the tale with what appears to be truthfulness even when at times it makes him seem almost cruel to those around him.

As well as his son Chris, riding friends John and Sylvia Sutherland joined him for the first part of the ride featuring as a foil for Pirsig’s thoughts and beliefs. The Sutherland’s newish BMW R60 is often referred to in the book and although Pirsig’s own bike is spoken of frequently, it is not defined. You are able to glean however that it is an overhead camshaft four stroke of more than one cylinder and it is a few years old in 1968 which would lead you to guess at it being a Honda. And as the author claims to have taken it up to more than 90 mph on the journey whilst two-up, you’d further guess at it probably being bigger than a 250cc bike. You’d be right as 12 photographs exist from the original ride and in them the bike can clearly be identified as a CB77 Honda 305cc Super Hawk. How we, three New Zealanders, came to be recreating this journey in 2006 riding similar bikes is another tale in itself, as is the pre-Zen ride journey from Ypsilanti through Detroit to Toronto, Niagara, Iron Bridge, Sault Ste Marie and Manistique to Minnesota as a shake down, having a lot of fun camping along the way.

I call our ride Zen and the Last Hurrah II, linking my 2005 Last Hurrah I adventure (www.thelasthurrah.co.nz) with Pirsig’s, as a sort of sequel and also simply to give it a title. This will hopefully give it a life of its own. In the Last Hurrah I, I had Steve, one of my sons along as cameraman whilst this time number one daughter Kitty is behind the lens. Having four children to share my adventures with means at least two more are to follow. Good friend Myles Feeney rides the Honda a la Persig. I’d given him business cards proclaiming him as Sorcerer’s apprentice, which troubled him a little as he really wanted to be Helicopter pilot and fireman. I told him that was a sad cry for attention from a middle-aged wannabe and he should just get over it. Not a sulky person, I later note that he is reticent at giving out his cards as we travel.

Mid-morning on August 7th 2006 saw us positioning the bikes outside Pirsig’s house in St Paul for a photo opportunity and the official beginning of this part of the ride. As a result of Myles’s urgings, I knocked on the door while Kitty filmed. Unexpectedly, John, the current owner is home and very hospitable, immediately grasping what is going on, and inviting us in to have a look around and talk about Robert Pirsig. We’re not the first Zen fans to come calling but do seem to be the first who are going to do the whole ride on period bikes. At the time, of course, the Sutherlands’ BMW was near new and Pirsig’s Honda only a few years old although it did have more than 27,000 miles on the clock. Our bikes may be quite low mileage examples but they are now 41 years old, no longer current models with available easy servicing across the country. They possibly will need a little more respect and care to be shown them as this will still be a significant ride, being completely unsupported. There will be no back-up vehicle following along, no ‘sag wagon’ if we need help. It is just like the ride in 1968 but all the participants are older, riders included.

That first day’s ride was carried out half a day later than the original due to having camped the night before in the Saint Croix Bluffs Regional Park quite a few miles away. This meant that after all the hospitality and photos with John we weren’t on the road until after lunch with a long day ahead of us. Unavoidably, a main freeway was taken to get out of St Paul and Minneapolis and onto the two lane old roads that Pirsig described. Pirsig first discovered the back roads after using them to cross to main highways, later realizing that he found them the interesting bits of his rides. He then began to plan his rides around those smaller country roads because of their different pace and the way that people had different personalities in the back waters…."they’re not going anywhere so have time to be courteous and share a little of their lives". He describes that discovery as a real find. Just as in 1968, those smaller roads were largely deserted. They aren’t great motorcycle roads but the countryside was pleasantly rolling and verdant with plenty to look at. Following along Minnesota Highway 210, the same red winged blackbirds were seen, just as in the book…well probably they were the off-spring’s off-spring but it still gave us a small kick. Another thrill was rushing past a field of buffalo, something that is not seen in New Zealand. Just like in 1968 it was hot, but all of the US had been suffering the effects of a heat-wave. A few miss-adventures occurred on that first day. At Pirsig’s house, a reasonably important file and the battered old copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance had been left behind. In a touch of serendipity, Daniel, an off-duty Fedex worker casually wandered into our lives in Staples, heard of our loss and magnanimously offered to recover the lost items and make them magically appear in Oakes, North Dakota…what a legend and true to his word it happened. That first day had been long and didn’t end until after dark in Oakes. The same motel was located and utilized.

In 1968 they had left Oakes early and had a bitterly cold ride to Ellendale for breakfast. In 2006 it also was cold but not extremely so. Nodak Café where John Sutherland had done his ‘Chicken Man’ impersonation had closed its doors only recently and relocated just up the road so a little bit authenticity was lost. Early morning Ellendale was sleepy and tired looking, probably little changed since 1968. After a fairly average cooked breakfast the ride across North Dakota was continued along Highway 11 until Hague was reached. In 1968 Pirsig didn’t really have the route fully planned and at Hague had to ask where they could cross the Missouri River. The answer determined their route south through Mound City to the Mobridge crossing. In 2006, Hague was the turning point for a North Dakota 7 day cycle ride that several hundred riders were participating in. We’d been passing many riders for 20 or more miles before reaching the tiny hamlet of Hague which was largely deserted with most businesses closed, seemingly not bothering to take advantage of the thirsty and hungry cyclists. They did have a community organized official stop so there were toilets available and maybe even somewhere to get a cup of tea but really it didn’t seem match the endeavors of the cyclists. It was great to mingle with others who were off on an adventure, similarly escaping the convention and regularity of everyday life. Further on in Mound City we fueled up and took time to talk with the proprietress of the gas station whilst sheltering from the searing heat. She told us that the sign proclaiming a population of 89 was a bit out of date as there were now only 65 or so people in town and only 3 children (her grandkids). She and her husband had been there since the mid 60’s and had bought the garage in 1968. They had probably been there when Pirsig and co rode through. [This route was close to that taken by Lewis and Clarke sent off by President Jefferson on a two year exploration trying to find ways to easily link the east and the west of the US. Accordingly the Mound Post Office featured a large L & C Mural Painting The ride down to Mobridge took us into South Dakota, at one stage passing a speed sign which proclaimed the speed restriction in both miles and kilometers per hour. It puzzled us and we never saw another or found out why it was there. Once west of the Missouri River the ride took us northwards with the day ending near Lemon. Whilst in Lemon, Mark Resner spied the group and nearly wet himself. A self-confessed Zen nut, he’d been driving by when he saw the period Honda and BMW. Almost running across to me, he excitedly called out ‘It’s a Zen ride isn’t it!’ Why else would the heavily laden mid-60’s bikes be there? An interview for the local paper followed and then he gave directions out to where in his opinion the original team had slept in a local camp all those years ago.

To be on two wheels in South Dakota in July, means that you’re probably riding to the Sturgis SD Motorcycle Rally. Our little group wasn’t, but felt we should be. So a detour to Sturgis was made to observe the excesses of the event. It had been described to us as ‘the biggest fancy dress party in the world’…and it was. It had also been described as ‘the Budweiser Nationals’…and it was. An amazing experience, we felt lucky to have escaped without a tattoo or piercing. It had been and interesting and slightly enjoyable interlude, one that we were pleased to have had and pleased that we don’t have to go to again. For us it had no sincerity…sure some people had ridden for many days to get there, but it seemed that most pulled the bike behind an RV and just went for a ‘look at me, look at me!’ pose down Main St. It is hard in our eyes to be ‘bad to the bone’ when you’re really a dentist or accountant from Terre Haute, Indiana.

A parallel ride north was taken back up to Bowman to rejoin the Zen route. The going was almost unbearably hot with the landscape now dotted with interesting land formations and buttes, but also a number of commemorative plaques from skirmishes with the Indians. It is noticed that there are two Custer Cities within a day’s ride of each other, little bit confusing for us simple Kiwis. In Bowman, (where Pirsig had encountered the old fellow who’d had a Henderson and wanted to talk about their bikes, in 102 degree heat…and Pirsig was happy to oblige) we were directed to a café which would have been the one they dined in 38 years earlier. There on the door was a sticker “Zen ride 2004”. It seems that two Germans had hired Harley Davidsons and also retraced the route in 2004. The ride was now on US12 and getting even hotter. The almost deserted town of Marmoth was passed through. Most buildings were boarded up but a sign proclaimed a notable restaurant. There was the old railway station up on blocks for removal. Myles falls in love with it, wanting to take it home…so it is filmed but left. We wish we could be like Americans abroad who regularly buy things like London Bridge, The Queen Mary etc. The side streets are clay, abandoned cars rest unmolested, the town could be anywhere in the developing world, it is hard to think of this as being the US in 2006…the world’s only super-power. We identify with this tiny slightly forlorn but homely place that time seems to have left behind…but we have no time to linger.

Montana is crossed into and Baker City provides a respite. This is a little bigger town of roughly 3,000 people and yet again we wonder how a place becomes a city. In our part of the world a city must have more than 20,000 population or a cathedral. A bar is found, hopefully the same one that the ‘68’ crew paused in, to get out of the now 108 degree heat. In 1968 they had seen a thermometer in the sun reading 120. We have a pizza and unsuccessfully play the poker machines. We can’t linger too long…there is a story to follow. Montana has canyons and the hills have pine trees on them albeit sparsely spread. The land is still tawny but it has more features. This is quite different from the Dakotas. The Yellowstone River is now followed and long, long trains keep pace and sometimes pass. In the late afternoon Miles City is reached and the historic Olive Motel found. We do our laundry there, dine there and sleep there…just like our predecessors. A high stakes poker game is watched for a while with interest, just like you’d imagine in cowboy days. It amuses me to watch the players having food brought to them so they don’t leave the table. One guy seems to be doing most of the losing. Another hot day riding across Montana follows, still following the Yellowstone. There are a couple of roadworks stops but nothing distinguishes the day except a break away from the zen route to the small settlement of Hysham for a coffee stop and a rest.

Kitty interviews the local sheriff and a Danish biker who is riding the US on a Harley-clone Yamaha. These fleeting interactions give a sparkle to our ride and are something that the earlier ride doesn’t include. The old Honda Super Hawk in particular seems to always attract attention with questions being asked about it. So many people remember them from the 60’s, or their brother had one, or the kid next door etc. Both bikes are doing well with very little attention being needed for either one. The Honda is running a bit richer on one side and has been fouling one plug every so often. It takes a little time through experimentation to get this right. Earlier in the trip the Honda had the speedo drive fail but generally both bikes feel sturdy and reliable, belying their age. The riders feel similarly sturdy and reliable, also belying their age. Myles reckons he hasn’t really bonded with the Honda but it is surprisingly comfortable…more comfortable than he old Triumph at home. It also shows on a daily basis how capable it is.

The town of Laurel is one that Pirsig felt happy in, he was near the hills, yet he also felt just a little sad as he knew he was approaching Bozeman where his alter ego Phaedrus had been so unhappy. “Sometimes it is a little better to travel than to arrive” he writes. Laurel is flat with a long drawn-out main road just as described in ZAMM. In 2006 the Russell Motel is pink, the unit has three beds and is the first one we’ve found to have cooking facilities in the unit. Kitty and I take a long walk around the back streets, wandering through the lanes that pass between the backyards, surprised at the number of dogs that leap at the fences as they pass. The middle class here are not rich and it is hard to believe on the evidence of the ride so far that the US has had 10 years or so of economic boom. The route has meandered through lots of settlements that are waning, not booming. It is at Laurel that Sylvia Sutherland suggests an alternative route to Bozeman that someone in town has told her of, one that is longer but far more exciting. Pirsig knows it and replies that “It’ll be cold…but just tremendous.” This is the legendary Highway 212 that takes in Beartooth Pass.

Knowing that in 1968 they got very cold even on the first part of the ride across the plain towards the Alpine resort of Red Lodge, we togged up for the worst, balaclavas pulled down, polyprops under and waterproofs over. Red Lodge is right at the foot of the mountains and surprisingly on a Monday is bustling with visitors including large numbers of mainly Harley mounted motorcyclists. The town still has the old brick buildings that date from before the 20th century. Numerous cafes line the streets and pancakes are had in one of the busy ones. A group of four Egyptian motorcyclists are talked to, later another band from Holland, with us Kiwis making it a real League of Nations. There is talk in the town of it being 31 degrees F up at the summit. That is just below freezing so we tog up again in our warmest just as the others had in 1968. In reality it never gets too cold and several photo stops are had and a couple of video passes are made. The lay-by where Robert Pirsig photographed the others by the two bikes, is found and a replica photograph taken. The views are stunning with the road twisting up the mountainside in a spectacular fashion, switchback turns repeating themselves in a crazy climb to just on 12,000 feet. On the opposite hills glaciers can be seen and permanent snow tops the hills like ice cream cones. From the second summit we rest in the thin air and look out over Wyoming, the view taking in several picturesque lakes and the impressive Beartooth Butte with its shear cliffs. Seemingly woven into this vista is an enticing road that snakes away to far beyond the visual capabilities of the eye. It lies across the countryside like a lone piece of grey spaghetti. More filming is done showing the bikes riding into the wonderful vista.

A lakeside interlude for a brew-up provides another memorable experience. Whilst waiting for the ‘thermette’ to boil, a deer quietly wanders by in the trees on the far side of the road, nibbling at the foliage and lush grasses underfoot, seemingly totally unconcerned by our intrusion. Looking up at the enormous butte that has no doubt starred in numerous movies, and looking down at the picturesque lake, everything looked so perfect that it felt like we could have been in a National Geographic promotion. Roadworks interrupted the afternoon a little but at one break other motorcyclists engaged in a bit of banter when they saw the Michigan plates. They also were from Michigan and wanted to know where and why and how etc. After receiving all the answers with a portion of amazement, they owned up to having had one of their number drive out with a trailer filled with the bikes and then others all just flew in a bit later to ‘ride the twisties!’ Reflecting on this later provided us with a lot of fun. Where we are from, pride would stop most people doing this and if they did do it, they would never own up to it. A bit like wearing a toupee…you’re always going to be the butt of jokes behind your back.

Cutting through the north-east corner of Yellowstone Park brought us to Gardiner, a small town perched on the steep banks of the river. This is where Pirsig so admired the handiwork of the constructor of the camp cabin they stayed in. In 2006, the camp is the same, the cottages cutesy but Myles the builder isn’t quite as overawed with the ‘metaphysics of quality’ that went into the design. He spotted a few things he would have done differently. The cabins are all full so a neighboring camp is found, also one which looks out over the river. A cabin is booked for the night but the outlook over the river is so stunning that Myles sleeps on the deck to take maximum advantage of the stunning aspect. Whilst booking-in Kitty drops and breaks her glasses so the next day’s exploring of the park is limited to a couple of hours wandering around the limestone cascades and a swim in the river at a confluence which is fed by a hot spring making a nice open-air hot bath

An easy ride to Bozeman was done in the afternoon and a jeweler solders the glasses frame up using a laser, making an excellent job of it. Myles and I had been going to have a crack at it ourselves with a butane powered torch but hadn’t been able to locate our tiny screw drivers to remove the lens first…and wasn’t that fortunate for Kitty. The entry into Bozeman had surprised us. It was immediately obvious that the town had a level of sophistication that hadn’t been found on the back roads. There were cafes with sidewalk tables. The guts hadn’t been ripped out of the town and replaced by a strip mall. The curse of the Wallmart wasn’t apparent. The town still had a center, with book shops…we’d almost come to the conclusion that Americans didn’t read,…clothing boutiques, nice food places etc. This stop was quite central to ZAMM as here they paused and stayed with the DeWeese, friends of Pirsig from his days here as a teacher. It is also the turn-around point for the Sutherlands. When Pirsig hits the road again it is on a mad burst to get to San Francisco just with Chris. Electrical storms end both days that we spent in Bozeman, one throwing down myriads of hailstones as big as marbles.

A cold morning’s ride to Butte for a late breakfast started our push to the end. An amusing time is spent with some old characters in the diner including one who is full of wisdoms like how Myles and I would be good workers because we ate fast. It is how the Russians pick their workers he tells us. A scenic side road is taken, past some Lewis and Clark caves just as in 1968, with a warming hot pool providing a good break at Fairmont (not done in 1968), then it is past the famous tall brick chimney of Anaconda. It is raining and cold and a fairly miserable meal is had at a diner called Joe’s. An engaging and pleasant soul serves amazingly bad meals that we rate right up with Jeremy’s in Canada on the crap-o-meter scale. A green and interesting valley is followed until Hall is reached where in 1968 they spent time sheltering beside the church. It was similarly windy and cold for us with intermittent showers spoiling the day. In 1968, Pirsig camped out on a logging road near Lolo Pass hot springs, south of Missoula (where Chris had admired the big ‘M’). In 2006, the whole day had been cold and miserable so we decided to abandon authenticity and treat ourselves to a cabin at the hot springs. This wasn’t to eventuate as all were booked and so the tents went up again. A couple of affable riders from Red Lodge are similarly camping and we all endure a cold night with a light frost to show how bitter it had been. The cold morning encourages a slow start after a pancake breakfast across at the hostelry opposite. A middle-aged Harley pillion admits to having her electric vest on.

The route was now Highway 12 taking us through to Idaho down a long, heavily forested valley that twists through the Bitterroot Mountains. This day is a perfect one for a two-wheeler, one sign proclaims that is winding for the next 72 miles. It should have said ‘next two days’. Altitude is lost and the ride is a gem. It is not too hot and it is not too cold…as the bears would have said ‘it is just right’. It is a long and interesting day. An elderly woman with a monstrous 1965 Pontiac Eight Eighty is encountered in Grangeville, it all adds to the fun seeing equally old vehicles out there on the road. I wonder how often now the supermarket carpark has three 1965 vehicles in it at once. Grangeville is mentioned in ZAMM solely because Pirsig notices a stunningly gorgeous high-schooler in a restaurant making eyes at a young male while another girl behind the counter glares. He notes that they "keep passing unseen through little moments of other people’s lives". In 2006 we often feel the same.

After a while out in the hot afternoon sun, climbing again the prairie breaks into a canyon just as described in ZAMM and a then huge descent follows, down past several prominently signposted truck run-offs, each spaced a few miles apart. This downhill is almost physically breathtaking. It is unlike any other I have done. A short but pleasant afternoon stop is had in the tiny old-West town of Riggins. Ice creams are devoured. It is a long day that is by no means over. The road climbs again, this time into pine forests. Late in the afternoon we pause in Cambridge and get a few supplies. The night’s stay is in a camp about 20 miles away on the road across towards Oregon. Brownlee Campground is a very basic facility close into the hills. Here young Chris Pirsig is put to bed on a picnic table. This seemed odd until we arrived and the tables are noticed as being really quite large. One thing that we found a little strange was that in 1968 they rode out from Cambridge after having supper and had to ride the last part after dark. It was a long way to go in the dark if you are just looking for somewhere to sleep as they were. Perhaps Pirsig already knew of the Brownlee’s camp. This had been a long day, but a great day. I note in my Palm One PDA, ‘best day yet.’

The next morning was cool but nice just like in 1968. This was where RP lets Chris sleep until the sun reaches him then hollers ‘WAKE!’, following that up with a recital from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam…to the confusion of the freshly awakened 12 year old. A fellow camper tells us that a bear has been sighted just along the track. ‘Something to tell the folks at home’ we think and press on into Oregon along Highway 96. Another bewilderingly interesting and varied day follows with the highlight being the riding across to and down through Hell’s Canyon. To Pirsig the semi-desert country reminds him of Rajasthan in Northern India. I haven’t been to Rajasthan but it is a little like parts of Northern Pakistan that I traveled across on The Last Hurrah I ride in 2005. A snack is later had at the tiny, almost deserted town of Unity, a short ride off from the highway. Pirsig also fueled up here mentioning only the hot black road and the sagebush. In 2006 it is notable only for the ‘no dog pooing’ sign at the gas station. Why they needed a sign in a place that can’t have more than a handful of people through in a day escaped us. Praerie City and Dayville are passed through before another forgettable meal in the late afternoon at Mitchells, a small settlement remembered because of the encounter with Henry the huge brown bear who was caged opposite the diner.

It seems that in 1968, Pirsig’s deteriorating mental state was concerning him and he felt that he needed to get to San Francisco and help. Accordingly he rode longer and longer days for no apparent reason, just following the overwhelming need to get there. This is of course very confusing for young Chris. They do detour a bit, but the days are unnecessarily long and seemingly pointless to replicate in 2006 and we fell short on one day and even deviated from the route to create a few hours shorter ride on another. The climax of the book is rushing at the reader and Pirsig’s descriptions of the grueling days for Chris leave you with admiration and sympathy for the boy and almost anger towards his dad, although his truthfulness is also appreciated. The roads heading across Oregon are now more heavily trafficked and not as interesting although a pancake breakfast at the beautiful Diamond Lake [Crater Lake] is still a ride highlight. Another highlight is an evening out in Grants Pass at a music festival by the river. Aptly the reggae band plays ’96 degrees in the shade’. Even quite late at night it is pleasantly hot. The following day riding down to the coast shows the extremes that can be encountered riding the US though. From the hot hinterland of Oregon the ride took us out to the Californian coast, winding down through nature’s wondrous giants, the redwood trees. Encountering these for the first time was almost surreal as there was a gentleness and serenity that is hard to describe. In ZAMM the conflicts between father and son are beginning to take center stage and Chris is becoming moody and argumentative. The places of significance in the book are all followed in 2006. The little village of Leggett being no bigger than it was in 1965 when Chris moodily fed the ducks. A small garage provides petrol and a general store has almost enough snack food to satisfy us. I later note in the Palm One that the muffin was poor.

It was a surprise for us to meet the freezing fogs of the Californian coast and after all the pleasant summer riding of this wonderful idyll, it spoilt the last few days of the ride. It is hard to enjoy even the most interesting riding conditions if you are cold. In 1968 Chris was cold and unhappy, in 2006 we were cold and also unhappy, not with the ride but with the weather. It made riding and camping less than pleasant. We’d been happy living a mostly outdoors life for a month and we really didn’t have as much fun once it was cold. One cold night Kitty and I did the father/daughter dining out thing in a small hippy village called Point Arena while Myles tried to eliminate an annoying miss-fire that the Honda had developed – later cured by a second hand coil given to us by a bike and mower shop in Gurneville. The roads were now twisty and slow, often running along cliff-tops with impressive views down into secluded bays. The days continue to be cold and it was not until we left the coastal highway and went inland to Highway 101 did we find sunshine and warmth. It is probable that we stayed on the coast longer than Pirsig did, my excuse being that I was too cold to read the book and map right.

The last chapters of ZAMM are an emotional rollercoaster as there is sadness for Chris’s plight, disappointment at Pirsig’s handling of the situation but then also a joy because of Chris’s ultimate enlightenment and their mutual pleasure from it. There are also so many questions left by the book. The book finishes before San Francisco but it is known (speculated by many) that the journey ended at the Zen Center on Page Street. [Letters from Pirsig (see menu at upper left) state that they did not go to the SF Zen Center, but rather went on to friends in Los Angelus. HSG, ZMMQ WebMaster.] It was with some sadness but also with the triumphant feelings of a significant goal achieved, that we formally ended our ride there. The center was most hospitable and sharing towards us. We found it a very serene and pleasant place to rest and reflect in. We supped tea and talked with some trainees there, very appreciative for the low-key, but genuinely warm welcome we received. A sad postscript is that a decade or so after their big ride whilst a student there Chris was killed nearby after what appears to have been an attempted robbery. The Zen Center has his ashes.

Zen and the Last Hurrah II has been a wonderful interlude in our lives. We have followed someone else’s epic and enjoyed it immensely. The bikes also seemed to have enjoyed the exercise by performing so well and so willingly. It has been a treat to have shared so much with Kitty who at 22 is a lovely young adult who even gave the impression of having enjoyed her month and a half with two curmudgeonly old men. To share in her world I had even managed to be a vegetarian for the duration of the ride. This in the US is a challenge in itself. We’d also had many of the Pirsig experiences. Apart from the roads and towns being mostly unchanged, we’d also shimmed a slipping mirror with a piece of coke can and the Honda had fractured its chainguard, just like theirs did. We’d seen what they saw and felt what they felt. I might not have had the deep and meaningful insights to share like Robert Pirsig but we had passed through back-roads America and loved it. The people had been so friendly, the life and vistas wonderful. The food…distinctly average but it could have been us, always making bad choices of diner and bad choices of food…yeah right!

Links To More Des Molloy Information, and Two Really Good Videos.

A) Click Here For => NEW ZEALAND SOCIETY OF AUTHORS => Which Has Listing Of Des Molloy’s Books, Each With Good Color Photo, and 3 Important Links To Molloy Internet Presence.

B) Facebook Information About A Des Malloy’s Video Documentary, which was available in the past, but now, to see it, would have to be a special purchase.
..At Blue Link Below => See David Matos’s explanation of this on Facebook.com/ZMMquality Re => Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Touring documentary of The Toronto Motorcycle Film Festival, which had made available, The Above-Mentioned Molloy Videa, ,
…After Viewing The Above-Mentioned Molloy Videa, Henry Gurr Writes =>
… This show lots of Motorcycles & Touring, as is appropriate for the Toronto Motorcycle Festival, and for that audience.
… With David Matos, and my son David Gurr, and myself, we watched the above-mentioned " Pete Blasdale's 67 minute long documentary => "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Touring": And in our opinion =>
…This was a very good production, and we all very much enjoyed it!! ... Many thanks to Des Molloy & Peter Blasdale for such a GREAT Full Length Movie!!
Sincerely Henry S Gurr, ZMMQ SiteMaster.
Clidk Here To Read David Matos’s explanation of (& View Photos of) => Des Malloy’s Video Documentary.

C) Des Molloy’s Kahuku Publishing Company’s Presentation On Facebook.com
https://www.facebook.com/kahukupublishing/

D) Des Molloy’s Kahuku Publishing Company’s Presentation On His Own WebSite. Contrary To The Presentation On His Facebook Page, This WebPage, Presents A Well Organized Discuses All Of Mr. Molloy’s Books.
https://www.kahukupublishing.com/

E) A Motorcycle Oriented WebPage, Discusses Des Molloy’s “The Last Hurrah” Book
https://silverbullet.co.nz/news.php?id=4088----

F) Everand,com Discusses Des Molloy’s “The Last Hurrah: From Beijing to Arnhem”
https://www.everand.com/book/453287041/The-Last-Hurrah-From-Beijing-to-Arnhem

G) Amazon.com’s Presentation of Des Molloy’s “The Last Hurrah: From Beijing to Arnhem”
https://www.amazon.com/Last-Hurrah-Beijing-Arnhem-ebook/dp/B086D2HLWF

H) Two Really Good Videos Showing & Discussing Des Molloy’s Exploits
…His Shop & Antique Bikes => https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jxiJRolmDZI
…His Last Hurrah: PAKISTAN => https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7GDu0MfnWU8

Original Writing By Des Malloy With Editing & Posting by Henry Gurr, Jan 23, 2007 thru July 17, 2008..AddLinks&FormatRevHSG10Jan24.

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