Its hard to believe the paths we all sometimes take to get to where we are. In my case I had every hope of being a musician. It was more of a smaller obsession really. How I ended up a land surveyor is still a bit of a mystery. I have an old friend from high school who became a nurse. One of the better football players I knew became a concrete contractor. Its amazing how the little changes we make in our lives, the treks we make, the ideals that shape us all combine to form a person that we never expected of ourselves, nor each other. Look back on who you were before college and you might be surprised at the treks you made to get to where you are today.
The last couple weeks have been fairly hectic. Laden with all those daily grinds coupled with work, demands from others, bills to pay, daily thoughts of "Who signed me up for THIS", maybe a club asks of your time, or maybe its just the lack of any time to yourself at all. Pressure to meet a deadline or finish work on a project. Sights and sounds invade the consciousness, tearing it apart only to rebuild it again, shaping and molding our ideals, our thoughts, our character. Lately I have built up walls around myself, retreating from the stress overload that greets us at our doors every morning. Sometimes its easier to go into that "self preservation" mode in order to keep your wits about you.
All this stress and sensory overload has been catching up with me and keeping my thoughts scattered. Figuring if I "made treks" and spent time on my Harley it might clear the soul a bit. So it was Sunday - a day set aside for rest. A day God made for us to remember His goodness, too! I set out at first not really with a route but just to get away, but noted as I headed south the motorcycle course was in full swing at the community college in town. AHA - lets go see!! After all, the instructors out there helped to correct a few of my riding "mistakes", and even though I paid for the course, they made sure I remembered my lessons well. As luck would have it they offered an invitation to the experienced rider course. That could be fun because I would use my own bike for that course. After thanking them, I made treks southward.
I have a favorite route I take southwards. Its a delight to ride! Nice gradual curves rising up and settling into the countryside. It crosses the Iowa River, and also crosses Lake McBride, a local lake known for fishing and boating. It was nice and cool, too, so wearing full leathers wouldn't be a problem. Making treks I say, and heading south I was just starting to feel the calming effects of the road. Its also a bit amazing what you actually "see" on the motorcycle. A pair of Blue Jays sitting on a fence, a fawn and its mother hiding from the roar of the bike, the golden hawk circling over a potential meal. Appreciating these kinds of things really serves to calm the spirit. After making a quick stop to check on some riding apparel I wanted to check out, I decided to keep heading south. Making treks!
Land surveyors are a, well, for lack of a better, term, an interesting species. We tend to be master of all that surrounds us folks. I mean - where else can you find a car mechanic, lawyer, engineer, secretary, babysitter, woodsman, arborist, computer geek, county recorder, politician, cook, heck even lawnmower repair - all rolled into one little harmless person! If there ever was a profession where the pay simply is not enough, this is it! Oddly enough in my trails on the roads and highways, I am keenly aware of the treks surveyors make. We all see them. Paint marks in the road, a wooden lath sticking up out of the ground, even a tripod standing staring intently down the road looking for its master. Sundays trip was chock FULL of surveyor treks. I found them harmlessly aligning about every road I travelled down, as if announcing the impending road construction to come. By that time, those surveyors have already made their own treks.
And then there is the road itself. We all follow its paths mindlessly, urging the road to take us to our destination. For me, though, the road actually tells me something, leaves its own treks behind. Heading south out of Iowa City I rode past their "REGIONAL" airport. More of just a one lane landing strip really. I began to notice some seams in the road that crisscrossed the highway that alerted me to a project I had worked on a few years back as a surveyor. After a couple miles of this crisscrossing, I realized what I was seeing was the original road alignment
crossing the existing road. The road, as it seems, was telling me where it had gone and where it was now, a standing unobserved testament to a historical moment in time, frozen for all passers by. The road, it seems, had made its own treks at one time.
Later, after pulling into my garage, I noticed the neighbors whizzing by in their cars and trucks, on their way to their own destinations....making treks!
The last couple weeks have been fairly hectic. Laden with all those daily grinds coupled with work, demands from others, bills to pay, daily thoughts of "Who signed me up for THIS", maybe a club asks of your time, or maybe its just the lack of any time to yourself at all. Pressure to meet a deadline or finish work on a project. Sights and sounds invade the consciousness, tearing it apart only to rebuild it again, shaping and molding our ideals, our thoughts, our character. Lately I have built up walls around myself, retreating from the stress overload that greets us at our doors every morning. Sometimes its easier to go into that "self preservation" mode in order to keep your wits about you.
All this stress and sensory overload has been catching up with me and keeping my thoughts scattered. Figuring if I "made treks" and spent time on my Harley it might clear the soul a bit. So it was Sunday - a day set aside for rest. A day God made for us to remember His goodness, too! I set out at first not really with a route but just to get away, but noted as I headed south the motorcycle course was in full swing at the community college in town. AHA - lets go see!! After all, the instructors out there helped to correct a few of my riding "mistakes", and even though I paid for the course, they made sure I remembered my lessons well. As luck would have it they offered an invitation to the experienced rider course. That could be fun because I would use my own bike for that course. After thanking them, I made treks southward.
I have a favorite route I take southwards. Its a delight to ride! Nice gradual curves rising up and settling into the countryside. It crosses the Iowa River, and also crosses Lake McBride, a local lake known for fishing and boating. It was nice and cool, too, so wearing full leathers wouldn't be a problem. Making treks I say, and heading south I was just starting to feel the calming effects of the road. Its also a bit amazing what you actually "see" on the motorcycle. A pair of Blue Jays sitting on a fence, a fawn and its mother hiding from the roar of the bike, the golden hawk circling over a potential meal. Appreciating these kinds of things really serves to calm the spirit. After making a quick stop to check on some riding apparel I wanted to check out, I decided to keep heading south. Making treks!
Land surveyors are a, well, for lack of a better, term, an interesting species. We tend to be master of all that surrounds us folks. I mean - where else can you find a car mechanic, lawyer, engineer, secretary, babysitter, woodsman, arborist, computer geek, county recorder, politician, cook, heck even lawnmower repair - all rolled into one little harmless person! If there ever was a profession where the pay simply is not enough, this is it! Oddly enough in my trails on the roads and highways, I am keenly aware of the treks surveyors make. We all see them. Paint marks in the road, a wooden lath sticking up out of the ground, even a tripod standing staring intently down the road looking for its master. Sundays trip was chock FULL of surveyor treks. I found them harmlessly aligning about every road I travelled down, as if announcing the impending road construction to come. By that time, those surveyors have already made their own treks.
And then there is the road itself. We all follow its paths mindlessly, urging the road to take us to our destination. For me, though, the road actually tells me something, leaves its own treks behind. Heading south out of Iowa City I rode past their "REGIONAL" airport. More of just a one lane landing strip really. I began to notice some seams in the road that crisscrossed the highway that alerted me to a project I had worked on a few years back as a surveyor. After a couple miles of this crisscrossing, I realized what I was seeing was the original road alignment
crossing the existing road. The road, as it seems, was telling me where it had gone and where it was now, a standing unobserved testament to a historical moment in time, frozen for all passers by. The road, it seems, had made its own treks at one time.Later, after pulling into my garage, I noticed the neighbors whizzing by in their cars and trucks, on their way to their own destinations....making treks!
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