YOUR HOBO BAG aka TRAVEL KIT

I wasn't a bad kid... let's just say I was a very active child...

I mean... I was never arrested, never set the house on fire, never joined a gang, never threatened the lives of my brothers or sister 

…uhhh.... check that... 

Not that my parents found out about anyway...

My father was prematurely gray at 30...  I'm pretty sure that, in large part... was due to me.

I would bet... The initial idea for the Speed Pass for the tolls...started when I was around 4... due to my frequent visits to the Emergency Room. 

They probably realized, it was easier to give my poor mother a scan card vs. having her fill out the reams of paperwork for the casts, stitches, dog bites or the occasional marble extraction from the nostril procedure...

Just like any of you, many of my childhood memories are fuzzy.    But... a few select memories do stand out so crystal clear, it could have happened yesterday... and this particular memory will stay with me until my dying day...

I was about 5 at the time and my sister and I were still sharing a bedroom. I don't recall exactly what she was doing to bug me... but whatever it was she did... caused me to haul off and punch her right in the eye.

This is NOT my sister!...  But this is a really good illustration of the shiner I gave her.  :)

I have to say... for a 5 year old... I had a pretty nasty right hook and I landed that baby square center on target! My sister's eye started to slam shut, even before she opened her yapper and got out the first howl... and that's when all hell broke loose!!

For the most part, I did my level best to stay out of what qualified as "BIG" trouble... and my mom did more than her fair share to cover for me,  but... there were times that I would manage to get myself into a pickle that was too ugly... even for my mom to smooth over... and that's when DAD WOULD FIND OUT.

This was one of those unfortunate incidents, that my mom wasn't  going to be able to hide... 


This was major and it was going to require a “pre-call”,  from my Mom, to my Dad at work... to give him a heads up...


Brother...  The "pre-call"!!!   

There was a chance, I was not going to see the age of 6...

So... now that the call was made, the whole damned family was on high alert that the World was going to come to an end, for little Kath...  

The day went into immediate slowwwww motion...We were all waiting on Dad's arrival from the AAAARRRRMY!!!!! 

First, we would have dinner.  In TOTAL SILENCE! 


THEN!!! We would be sent upstairs..... until he was ready.... only to be summoned downstairs later...

We all knew who the prisoner was... ME!!! 

First... the speech, then It was simple... I was going to get killed!!!

When we were finally called downstairs, my father was standing in the hallway with a stick and attached at the end of the stick, was a Hobo bag!!!! 

My Mom was standing next to my dad, and she was pale as a ghost and fighting back tears!!!

My Dad took one look at me... and with no expression on his face, advised me that in the Hobo bag was, one pair of underwear and one pair of socks... AND...  unless I apologized for what I did wrong, I was going to be sent out into the darkness of night, never to be allowed back into the house and further more... and I would never have a family again!

Now... in my short little life... I had never had a stick with a Hobo bag, and the threat of family exile, ever been offered out as punishment.

I wasn't quite sure what to make of it!!!

The entire household stood in total silence!!!

My Dad is Hungarian and Mom is French Canadian...

The Hungarian's are incredibly stubborn and the French Canadian's are a bunch of wise guy's... and when the DNA was cast... in my cell split at inception... I apparently got more than my fair share of the stubborn/wise guy blend...

So to my father's surprise and my Mom's shock, I apparently took about 2 minutes to collect my tiny little thoughts, blinked a few times and then launched into a farewell speech that would have been suitable for a Grammy Award Ceremony.

And to top things off.... It seems that it closing, I even had the nerve, to ask if I could take Tony...  the dog with me, for protection of course!

Of which my dad quickly shot back with a flat out “NO”, in hopes of breaking my spirit.

At which point, I grabbed the stick and Hobo bag and marched out the door... slamming it behind me.

I will tell you this... halfway down the block... I burst into tears, I was mad as hell they didn't let me take the damned dog!!!

It seems the second I left, the house went into a full on panic.

Mom started to cry and then shouted at my Dad to go find me... how could he let a 5 year old roam the streets, in the middle of the night with nothing but a Hobo bag, for GOD SAKE!!!!

Dad was still standing there in shock, he never expected me to walk out...

My sister... and her newly appointed seeing eye dog Tony, had already rocketed upstairs... she was busy rearranging the bedroom... She figured I was gone and the room was now all hers!!! OH BROTHER!!!

My little brothers are both crying cause my Mom was crying... They actually were too young to have a clue about what the hell was going on...

Me... I was busy walking down the street with my stupid Hobo bag, wondering how long it will take before I was either captured by Zombies or eaten alive by a pack of wild dogs.

About 5 minutes later, my father rolls up... in the station wagon... I'm of course, trying to ignore him... I'm just marching down the sidewalk with my damned underwear and socks in the stupid Hobo bag.

"Kathy... Get in the car”

No answer....

"Honey... Please, get in the car... or Mom's going to kill us!”

This is Dad's version of an apology... even to a 5 year old... I get that.

I hop in the car, burst into tears... mumble an apology and hug my dad! At 5, I know that I love my family... yeah even my sister... it's totally worth the apology, to go home.

We both learned our respective lessons... I won't punch my sister in the eye... at least for awhile, ... my Dad understood he was looking into a mirror of himself and to be careful for what he dangled in front of me, because he might get what he asks for.       

My sister was pissed... She had to rearrange the entire bedroom back to the way it was....  She had a very cool shiner for about 2 weeks... there is a God!!! 

So... Your Hobo aka travel kits.

If you are planning on taking to the air to race, or traveling somewhere with your bike on vacation and planning on taking your bike on a plane.

There are some things that you should absolutely pack in your Hobo kits.


In other words... These are the things you should take on the plane with you... in the event your luggage gets separated from you, when you arrive.

What should go into your Hobo Kits??? Welp... it's the stuff that you can't easily replace when you get to your destination for a ride... Just the basic essentials.

Underwear and socks... my preference is 2 pair of each :).  My Dad was a minimalist.

Saddle height jotted down on a piece of paper.  This is important, you don't want to WAG (wild as guess) your saddle height.

Helmet

Shoes

Pedals

1 Jersey

1 Pair of Cycling Shorts

Sun Glasses
Your Garmin... I wouldn't pack this baby in my luggage and risk losing it or having it stolen. 

In a pinch... the rest of the stuff... you could probably borrow, rent... whatever. But the stuff I've listed above are easy to pack... easy to carry and easy to take on a plane and in a pinch.. can make the best out of a bad situation... even if you bike and luggage doesn't make it... you have some of your gear to get in a ride and all is not lost.


So... there you have it.  

Have fun out there, Ride Safe

I'll Talk with you all soon

The Peanut Gallery