cup half full

so even a trip filled with troubles is still an adventure in my eyes, it still beats sitting on the couch waiting to die. i got an early start towards dismals canyon, hitting the natchez trace by 9am, stayed the course until well past columbia, courting trouble by chancing running out of gas; having no clue as to station locations near the trace, i got off an exit and waited at the stop sign to ask the next car where the closest was. so, problem solved, i made my way to hwy 43 and made quick time to florence/muscle shoals; the speed limit would jump up to 65 in between the little towns, good highway for making time. arrived at dismals canyon mid-afternoon. WHAT A WONDERLAND!!! stunningly beautiful, i wish my shakey hands had done it justice, the pics i got just don't capture it; need to figure out an easy way to strap a tripod to my bike.and it is naturally air conditioned, wafts of refreshing air pushed out of every cave-hole and damp underhang...i can see why the chickasaw were so reluctant to give it up. after climbing back out of the canyon, the trouble began. it appears they failed to mention on the website that the campground was not open until after memorial day. everyone was real helpful and pointed me towards several other c-grounds, but the kink in my plans led to me eventually running out of gas trying to find a campground or gas station in bfe alabam. she coughed just as i could see the campground 3/4mile ahead, so i pushed her on in, leaving her in the first empty site i came across and then hiking another mile to the park office to find the mgr not in. one of the neighboring rv denizens had pity on me and drove me to get gas. when full she started right up so i shut her off and proceeded to set up camp, or attempt to rather. being the first time i've ever used my new tent hammock i failed to realize that i shouldve had some carabiners or metal hooks to connect my tree straps to the hammock. what transpired next was like a raunchier curse laden version of the the 3 stooges as i tried to make it work with the cordage i had with me. over and over again, for 40 minutes haha. doubling and tripling up on cord did not help any, snapping everytime i lay down in the hammock, dropping me to the ground over and over. embarrassingly close to looking exactly like the time me and my brother laughingly watched my father try to put up a new tent by himself, i gave up in disgust and determined to ride back into muscle shoals and get a hotel room. the bike had other ideas, which involved getting her carbs cleaned the next morn. she ran fine til i got out of the campground and into the deserted part of the park, then coughed and sputtered and died. after trying to kick her over for 40 minutes (taking breathers to stave off cardiac arrest) i was thoroughly drenched in sweat and ready to give up and call roadside assistance. luckily i had a bottle of whiskey and fried chicken in the saddle bags, so proceeded to listen to geese, tree frogs and my own poor drunken singing for 2 1/2 hrs while i waited for him to find me. as much as i hate having a cellphone now, it has already paid itself off, i saw 3 cars go by in that entire time...truly in the middle of nowhere. but damn i aint seen stars like that in years, no regrets