There are funny little scenes in many movies that go largely unnoticed by many, but catch the eye or ear of a few of us discerning aficionados of film and catchy titles. One of those little ditties is in the movie As Good As It Gets starring Jack Nicholson, Helen Hunt and Greg Kinnear. At one point Nicholson, who plays an OCD author, is hesitantly driving Kinnear down to Baltimore from New York City for a few days. We see Nicholson at his compulsive best, planning and packing for the short trip with great attention to detail. When he notices the open luggage brought by Kinnear, who plays a gay artist with his own compulsions, he nods to Kinnear and says “nice packin’.” A man who knows how to pack well can be a kindred spirit, no matter what.
There are many reasons why the art of packing matters. When you’re married you have to accept that luggage is not a solo decision, but a least common denominator issue. If your spouse needs to pack heavy and you want to pack light, tough nuggies, you are checking your bags and waiting at the carousel no matter what. There is simply no arguing someone out of their larger suitcase needs if they have them. For my part, I rely on Kim’s reasonableness on such lifestyle issues and, for the most part, we travel in synch. Weekend trips are OK for carry-on, but anything a week or longer is going to go in the hold. We are both big enough people that we do not try to take a two week international voyage on a carry-on clothing budget. If we did we would only have to buy another bag enroute to hold the multiple purchases. As it is, Kim already packs an extra collapsible bag in the big bag for that purpose, so we are checking luggage all the way and back and just hoping that we don’t go crazy enough to start additionally shipping stuff home to ourselves, something we have done way too often. In this day and age of airport travel hell and onboard passenger bin-stuffing hell, we have actually decided that as comfort-seeking retired folks we do not need to be in a rush and we can even gate check carry-on luggage (they are always asking people to do that at no added cost) and saving ourselves the overhead nightmare altogether and using the extra time at destination for a leisurely bathroom break or to stop and have a drink while the crowd thins and the bags get unloaded.
When we have gone on foreign motorcycle trips there is also the added burden of the big, bulky gear, so we tend to take a big old gear duffle for the helmets, boots, Kevlar-laden riding suits and miscellaneous paraphernalia. Since Kim usually drives a chase car behind us with other of the trailing spouses, there is lots of room in the car for all the overnight gear that one needs to get off the bike at journey’s end, jump in the pool for a dip, suit up for a nice dinner, and be ready for another day with semi-fresh attire. That whole equation changes if you are going on a ride without a chase vehicle. We have actually never done that while riding two-up and I have no idea what we would do in that circumstance, because there is hardly enough room on a bike for one person’s stuff, much less for the stuff a deux.
I am heading out for a five day motorcycle ride (solo, as in without Kim) across the Mojave desert and up into the red canyons of southern Utah. Tomorrow is Cinco de Mayo. Cinco de Mayo (May 5th) is frequently misunderstood, especially in the U.S. where it’s celebrated far more elaborately than in Mexico itself. What it actually commemorates is the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862, in which a poorly equipped Mexican army under General Ignacio Zaragoza defeated a much larger and better-armed French force sent by Napoleon III. It was a stunning underdog victory as the French army was considered the finest in the world at the time and had not been defeated in battle in nearly 50 years. Contrary to popular opinion, Cinco de Mayo is NOT Mexican Independence Day, which is September 16th (1810), and is the far more significant national holiday in Mexico. The larger geopolitical historical context is interesting. Napoleon III was attempting to establish a French-backed empire in Mexico, having lost much of North America to the English in the prior century. He eventually installed Maximilian I as Emperor in Mexico in 1864. The timing matters because the U.S. was consumed by the Civil War and couldn’t enforce the Monroe Doctrine, so we sort of let the French have their way with our western flank. Many historians believe France was also sympathetic to the Confederacy, so a French foothold in Mexico could have been strategically threatening to the Union. The Battle of Puebla, even if only a temporary setback for France, boosted Mexican and broader Latin American morale against European imperial encroachment. But that’s not why Cinco de Mayo is bigger in the U.S. than Mexico. The holiday was popularized in California by Mexican-Americans in the 1860s as a symbol of resistance and ethnic pride. It was later heavily commercialized by beer and spirits companies in the 1980s-90s, transforming it into a general celebration of Mexican-American culture and, frankly, a drinking occasion. In Mexico, it’s a modest regional holiday, most significant in the state of Puebla (way down south between the DF and Veracruz), where the battle was fought.
I don’t drink and we’ll be heading out of Southern California on the day everyone around here gears up for the pseudo-holiday. It’s a four night stay and I can take whatever I can pack on my bike. I have a BMW GS Adventure, with the big aluminum panniers, so after I pack the necessary tools in case of a desert break-down (let’s not be stupid) and my rain suit (you never know) and an few other essentials in case it gets chilly in the hills of Escalante or over Boulder Mountain (I’ve been there before), there is only so much room. I have to have extra gloves and hard candies and windshield bug spray and a rag or two, so that leaves even less room. I have basically allotted myself one saddlebag worth of space, which amounts to 33 liters (they suggest a maximum of 11 pounds…which is silly). To give you a proper sense, the typical hard-sided airline carry-on fits 40 liters. With the Dopp kit, travel CPAP, charging gear, 4-day-supply of travel underwear, wicking long-sleeve undershirts, compression socks (the ones with the red and blue flames on the heels…of course), t-shirts, extra pants (you never know), lightweight shoes and button-down shirt for dinner, its a tight fit. I have to be the best of OCD Jack Nicholson and particular Greg Kinnear combined with a touch of McGyver to make it all go into the left pannier…and forget about the 11 pound limit. I don’t know what Napoleon III brought to the party in Puebla in 1862, but Rocket Richarde (my riding nickname per Bruce Rauner, ex-Governor of Illinois) is packin’ light for Cinco de Mayo 2026.