Ride Day 1.
Wednesday October 17th, 2012.

A very close family friend of over 50 yrs., George was at the tail end of his last job for his employer IBM. He was retiring after this job.
Based in California, he had been assigned to Houston, Texas to service an account for the past couple of years, over which time he had only been able to visit us in Corpus Christi during the past August.
So as he was on the verge of leaving Houston to return to California and then subsequently prepare to retire to Ghana at the end of the year, I decided to visit him on this his last weekend in Houston, on my way to Arkansas.
So getting onto Interstate 37 that leads out of Corpus, I turned after a few miles out, onto Highway 59 and continued heading north towards Houston.
I rode at a slow pace. I was lost in thought. I should be out looking for a job instead of here on the road for a pleasure ride! My feelings of guilt were strong. This was so uncharacteristic of me. My parents raised me to responsibly get chores and work done before enjoying myself. This just did not feel right.
I thought of turning back because my mind was telling me that that would be the right thing to do.
But I pushed on. I was committed to doing things differently this time around. I needed to relax. I felt tense. I needed the quiet time in my mind so I could think clearly.
All too soon, my thoughts got lost on the road.
My focus turned to my surroundings and to the road.
My immediate issues seemed to melt away.
So after a long, dreary, 232 mile ride on the interstate, I found myself smack dab in the middle of Houston. If you were to drop a pin on a map of his location, it could not be any more central than it was in Houston.
Stacked up highways mingled with each other like strands of spaghetti in a pasta bowl.
The driving pace on the highway was brisk. I had to keep all my wits and attention about me. It was manageable though. My destination for that day, George’s hotel, was barely 3 miles off the main highway that bisected the city.
Within a few short minutes I exited and was off the highway.
The clock on the bike's instrument cluster reported 5:47 p.m. local time.
George would be on his way here from work and ought to arrive pretty much at the same time as I would or not long after.
After a short wait at his Hotel, George arrived from work and we promptly made our way out to the Afrikiko Restaurant - a place he was excited to take me for dinner - A great eatery, serving local dishes from Ghana. It was good. Mmm, mmm, good. Actually, it was finger-licking good. (Because we ate with our hands).
Afrikiko, as is it affectionately known, is situated on the north side of Interstate 69 at the intersection of Plainfield St. and Ponderosa Ln. (If you are interested in experiencing cuisine from another part of the world and don’t mind spicy, tasty and/or hot flavored food, you might want to visit here if and when you are close-by).
This particular meal we opted for is definitely not to be eaten with cutlery. It just doesn’t taste and feel the same!
We indulged.
And with a full belly, it was a quiet night for me back at the hotel as he had to go for a company banquet later that evening.
Back at the hotel, I grabbed my camera and went out for a walk and took some night shots of the locale.
I needed to “walk off” the heavy meal.
I needed to keep my blood circulating too after quite a hot, long, tiring day in the saddle - and after a hot shower and phone calls to my wife, I drifted off to sleep without knowing it.
Tomorrow would be an even longer ride-day.
My mind was tired. I felt stressed. Rather stressed. I drifted off to sleep effortlessly, failing to say my night prayer.