Frankenputer

Here's a sad story oft repeated...

The day before I was going to back up all my photos and data, my computer's motherboard burned up. It was 6 years old, which is about 120 years in computer-years, so I guess I should have been expecting it.

"It seemed so healthy and happy just the day before." said Derek Dork as he weepingly surveyed the smoking ruins.

I called around to the local shops to ask about parts and was greeted with derisive laughter and phones being slammed back on-hook. The computer guy here in town was a little more kind. He's Japanese and polite. He simply said, "You ah escrewed", with a grin.

It seems computer technology jumped light years ahead while I was happily playing "Redneck Rampage" on my out-dated box.

However, on my last trip to California, my generous brother-in-law gave me his old server tower. He and my sister had made the quantum leap to shiny, beautiful, brand new wonderful MACs and the old XP box was just a toe stubber.

I brought it home, cleaned it up and loaded all my shooter games on it. That only took a couple of days of interminable downloads and upgrades from Microsoft's website.

I used the old server to search the net for a vintage motherboard that would use the new $40 RAM chip I bought just before the crash. Damned if I was gonna throw it out before I got my 40 bucks worth of use out of it!

Eureka! Ebay is awash with old crap and I found a brand new, in the box, ancient motherboard that would take my Pentium 4 processor and the RAM. Just plug it in, right?

Guess what? All this old stuff comes WITHOUT manuals or installation CDs.

I managed to find a manual online that was pretty close. Some of the connectors on the board didn't match the pictures in the manual, but luckily the guy that sold me the board was very helpful. I sent him close up pictures of the areas in question and he was able to help me out.

Great invention, the digital camera.

Feeling like Dr. Frankenstein, I got the motherboard in, transplanted the brain and gave it the juice.

"Full power, Igor."

"Yes, master."

Zapppp!

"It's alive! It's alive!"

Having got past the smoke test I turned in. I fell into a fitful sleep and for some reason, dreamed of crowds with pitchforks and torches banging on my front door.

The next morning I started up the monster and it wouldn't boot. Something to do with the hard drive. I didn't want to format it as it has pictures and files we want to keep. How to retrieve them, I'll figure out later.

Then I turned on the old server. The fans were screeching like an old fart who has just seen the monthly report on his 401K and it wouldn't boot up either.
The more I tried, the worse it got. Crap!

I then remembered the old server had 2 (count 'em, 2) hard drives. I took one of the drives and stuck it in the old box, formatted it and installed my 2002 copy of XP and once again..."It lives!"

I spent hours at Microsoft's site, downloading service packs, upgrades, fixes, and on and on and on...

I also did dozens of searches through computer help boards looking for vintage drivers.

Man, there's a lot of geeks out there! I was comforted to find I wasn't quite at the bottom of the pool. Close, but not bottom.

But I'm getting some mileage out of that new-antique $40 RAM chip, by gum!

So now I have a new goal. To keep Frankenputer running as long as possible.

I just hope it doesn't follow the classic tale where it turns on it's creator and throws him from the parapet.

...more follows...

Moving along...

When last we saw our intrepid hero, he was struggling to clean out his garage...a task akin to cleaning out the Augean Stables.

I have to say, I had it all spiffed up in there for about 2 weeks, then the piles started reappearing. Oh well.

The months have sped by and various things have happened.

One happy note, my brother and his wife moved here from Georgia. We spent Christmas together, the first time since the 70s, I think!

He's still getting their apartment squared away so we'll do some fun stuff later. He's retired too.

The weather here is pretty soggy, so I've been sticking close to home. Some days we get hail, snow (doesn't stick), rain and sunshine all in the space of an hour or so.

It's that time of year when migrating whales pass our coast, heading north. We've been out to the point a couple of times but haven't spotted any yet.

Town is pretty much empty and quiet this time of year with everybody holed up in their dens. That includes me.

I subscribe to Netflix and found they have "Instant Movies" that you can watch on the computer. I've been searching their vaults and along with the good stuff they have a teriffic collection of B-movies, zombie movies, biker trash and bad horror flicks. I'm in heaven!

I bought some cheap speakers with a port for headphones and I can watch all this crap without bothering my sleeping wife. I'll let you know when I catch a particularly good one.



more to follow...

Post-4th report

We had a busy week around the 4th of July holiday.

As I said previously, my sister, her husband, their dog (mini-Schnauzer) and Ural sidecar came up to visit and play. Things are sort of tight here on the rancho (as in only 1 bathroom, with 2 dogs and 5 cats trying to get in to watch whenever you go in there) so they stayed down in Old Town at the former Youth Hostel which is slowly becoming a hotel. Very slowly.

It's a great location right on the little harbor with the best Mexican restaurant on one side and a great coffeehouse on the other.
Their dog especially loved walking around the Old Town area. She's a bird poop inspector and had plenty of bird poop to sniff and classify.

Susan's friend, Susan also came to town. She's allergic to our cats so she stayed in a motel just above my sister's place overlooking the harbor and Old Town. Seems they gave out free ice cream to the guests over there.
The motel is like 2 blocks away so The Susans were able to hang out a lot.

I took Tom on a motorcycle tour of the back roads and logging roads in the area. It was great fun. I even got the hack up to 45 mph on one logging road. I never did much riding in the dirt but with 3 wheels under me I wasn't much worried about sliding and crashing.

The next day we loaded up the hacks with guns and went up to my favorite shootin' spot in the woods.

Now, Tom competes in long range target shooting with a WW2 Swiss Army rifle. By long range I mean 1000 meters. I can't even see that far. He's a damn good shot!

By contrast, I follow the Jet Li formula of shooting. You know, firing 2 pistols at once while sliding along a warehouse floor with burning trucks exploding all around me. I also specialize in suppressive fire with rifles which keeps everyone ducked down so I can make an escape.

Needless to say, practitioners of each style think the other is a weirdo.
But we had fun.

Next up was the 4th of July parade. I had planned to enter us in the parade (all you have to do is get in the line) but didn't get up and out early enough. So we drove the hacks down and watched. It was pretty short but enthusiastic.

After that we went to the City Park and listened to an acoustic all-girl band, ate Lions Cub hamburgers and talked to various citizens. Nancy & Tom had to move from the hotel to a beach house that day too.

That night, the city shot off the fireworks show. I stayed at home with the dogs and cats because they get freaked out but I can see some of them from the back porch.
The Susans watched the show from the motel balcony, probably the best seat in town. It was quite spectacular.

My sis & hubby gave it a miss as they were pretty tired. They're not used to the sea air.

On the 5th, Tom & I entered our hacks in a car / bike show down at the shopping center parking lot. We had a ball.

I put some camo netting on mine and had military stuff all over it. Binoculars, compass, a web belt with canteen and flashlight, my airsoft rifle, gas mask, a fake German helmet and a walkie-talkie.
You should have seen the old vets faces when they saw it! I heard more war stories than you could shake a stick at. I also had a few kids sit on the bike while mom took their pictures.
Meanwhile, Tom started taking people for rides around the parking lot. That was a big hit with the hot rod ladies.

When it came time for prizes, a 1950 Schwinn/Whizzer won the motorcycle prize. It was a real beauty and had a lot of modifications like dual pipes and a racing cam.
Actually, we both knew we were toast when he pulled the Whizzer in. But we had a good time, ate excellent BBQ tri-tip sandwiches, met a lot of fun people and got sunburned.

Everybody left town on Monday and I started getting serious about getting the garage squared away. I made good progress but now I'm going to re-arrange it all again and build some shelves and stuff.

I think I'll throw a party to celebrate getting it done. Throw some burgers and brats on the grill and play my collection of outlaw biker movies.
Yeah!

Aftermath

Just in case anyone is still reading this blather and wondering what happened, I thought I'd follow-up with the latest.

I took the van in to the shop and had her checked over. She got a clean bill of health! The trans seems to have survived the ordeal. They gave me a list of things that will need looking after in the future but it just had the usual stuff like brakes, tires, etc.

So it looks like we got away clean. The old beer-hauler and the old fart live on to party together another day!

Since my return I've been working diligently in the garage, trying to get things squared away. It's looking pretty good compared to what it was like previously.

Come hell or high water, it will be squared away this summer!

Took the Ural out a few times and am quite pleased with it. It has a lot of power and Susan rated the ride for the passenger as much improved over the old hack. She misses the windshield so I may build some sort of screen for it when I get the workspace set up in the garage.

It keeps coming back to that garage, huh?

This is the big tourist week here in Bandon, the run-up to the 4th of July, a big dog show and the annual fireworks show.

I like living in a town that people actually spend money to come to on vacation.

It makes me think I'm on to something.

Along with the other tourists, my sister, bro-in-law and their dog are in town.

It seems bro-in-law Tom took a liking to my old hack when I was staying with them down in California. So much so that he ended up buying a new one for himself. He's already put more miles on his than I have on mine!

So anyway, he brought his Ural along and we'll be riding the local roads for the next few days. We also have some off-road days planned so we can make sure the 2 wheel drive option works on our bikes.

His bike is painted in arctic camo which is black, gray and dirty snow color. It's really a beautiful paint scheme.

I guess I'll just keep this blog running until I run out of space or things to prattle on about. Right now though, the Margarita I had at dinner is putting me to sleep. That's what happens to old guys. One drink and ...plonk.

Thanks for reading...talk to ya later.... pictures to follow...

Some random pictures in no particular order.

Ashland, Oregon April 15, 2008. The start of my trip.

Fishing museum in Hayward, Wisconsin. This outboard motor was made in Russia and taken from a boat carrying Cuban refugees in the 60s.

A big fish.

This is where my wife Susan lived in Ontonagon, MI when she was in the 6th grade. Her grandfather owned the motel, it was named Shorty's Cabins.

A sample of trophys at an archery shop in Riley, Oregon.

My pal Tasha. She lives in Harriman, Tennessee. If anything happens to Ron & Kate, she'll be my dog.

The guard cat at Jake's Evil Lair in Texas. Don't let the look fool you.

Sign at a restaurant on Route 66 in Oklahoma.

Stats. AMENDED!

Holy Moley!

Here I am going on about being a wizard with spread sheets and I really screwed up. I had to add in some rows during the journey and forgot to add them into the formula!

So here's the lowdown for those interested:

total miles... 10,176 !!!!

total gallons... 505

total cost for gas... $1884.00

avg mpg... 20 mpg

So Brunhilda did even better than I gave her credit for.

I spent the day cleaning out the van, airing the bedding, etc. Also took a short drive around town and the transmission seems to be OK, no slipping or heating up. I'll take her to the shop and have a transmission service done to appease the gods of the mechanique.

I think I got away clean.

Some random thoughts and stats.

People ask me "How was your trip?" What can I say? My trip was just about dropping off one bike, picking up another and visiting friends and relatives. But as I lay around my house thinking about it, it was so much more.

How so? I'm not sure as I'm still processing all the data, but I feel there's some sort of underlying meaning to everything I saw. Or not. Who knows?

My old friend Larry M. from Grass Valley in California once advised me (when we were both working stiffs) to put all the data I could into spread sheets. I had just learned Excel and was having fun with lists.
This has become almost an obsession with me and I put some trip info into spread sheets. Actually it's pretty interesting.

total mileage....4, 170

gallons of gas used....232

total spent on gas ..... $1884.96

repairs and oil change .... $70.15

average mpg .... 17.97 mpg

highest mpg .... 24.61 mpg from Ontonagon MI to Clayton, WI (no trailer)

lowest mpg.... 13.55 mpg from Eureka, KS to Chelsea, OK (empty trailer and strong headwind!)

highest price ... $4.20 (in remote MI and OR)

lowest price ... $3.38 (AZ, MN, OK)

nights in motels... 13

total motel cost... $671

nights in campgrounds... 15

total campground cost...$292

It was too hard to keep track of food and odds-n-ends (like my cool hoodie from Hayward, WI) but I did manage to log in $350 towards meals.

I probably could have trimmed down here and there. For example, I didn't realize I spent so many nights in motels. Better planning may have cut that down.
But as my friend Victoria S. tells me, it's only money, living life is what's important. Guess I have to agree with that!

The one thing I'm really happy with is my van Brunhilda. She didn't do bad for an 18 year old ex-beer delivery truck. She never failed to start, stop or turn. She never leaked and everything (besides the AC) worked fine.

What can I say? An old fart in an old van and we both made it.

Soon as I get some more scratch together I plan to explore more of Oregon with Susan and the Merry Mutts.

...more follows...

The final run.

Leaving Wyoming, I got onto Highway 30 towards Pocatello, Idaho where I would get onto Interstate 86 for my run across the southern part of the state. The scenery is very pretty in a rugged way but there wasn't much to see from the Interstate.

There were some displays of the Oregon Trail at the rest stops that were pretty interesting. It was hard to imagine that I could cover in 2 days what must have taken months for the covered wagons. Plus I could stay in a motel instead of sleeping on the ground with a saddle for a pillow.

I passed a sign for Mountain Home Air Force Base at one point, which reminded me of an old Air Force buddy (whose name is long forgotten) who always talked about how great it was to be stationed there. Back in the 60s this must have been a small town indeed.

I wish I could have explored more but I didn't want to abuse Brunhilda any more than I had to. She was running fine and the floorboards didn't heat up as long as I stayed out of overdrive.

I passed a lot filled with military surplus vehicles but missed the exit and couldn't find my way back to it. Too bad. They had tanks and big troop carrier trucks all done up in various camo schemes. I wonder how much a tank would cost? Or what kind of mileage one would get with a troop carrier?

After a one night stay in Idaho I headed for the Oregon border and crossed over into Ontario, OR with a big grin on my face. When I spotted a small Bi-Mart store I knew I was back home and cheered!

I found Highway 20 and headed west across the high desert. It was beautiful through there. A small river ran along one side of the road and rugged hills on the other. The wind had died down and the sky was bright blue with puffy clouds. Best of all, there was very little traffic so I was able to cruise at 50-55 mph unmolested. I stopped often at pull-outs along the river just to listen to the water and birds.

I pulled into Riley, which is a store and a post office. Population is 3.

Highway 20 meets Highway 395 right there and I had always wanted to explore the area around 395. But again, I didn't want to push my luck with Brunhilda. Staying on the main road seemed like a prudent choice.

It was getting late in the day and the lady in the store said I could park in her campground for 5 bucks! I looked out and realized there WAS a little campground and outhouse. Done deal! The population would be 4 for the night.

I spent the evening drinking chocolate, sitting in the store talking to 2 teachers who had come into "town" for dinner (sandwiches.) They were closing down the school for the summer and needed a break from the cafeteria food. The store owner made me a microwave burger and we had a great time.

After the teachers left, I hung out with the owner swapping tales about life and how it always throws curves when you're expecting a slow ball.

She had led a very interesting life and she and her husband were now raising their grandson. The husband had an archery shop attached to the store/gas station/diner full of stuffed animals and skins.

It was cold during the night and there was ice on my windows in the morning. I woke up just before dawn, opened the sliding door and watched a beautiful desert sunrise from the comfort of my sleeping bag. I finally forced myself out of my cocoon and got back on the road.

It was 0530 and the sky was clear as a bell.

I headed into Bend which I had visited in the 80s. Back then it was a small town with ice cream parlors and sporting goods stores catering to the skiers in the winter and mountain-bikers in the summer.

But all good things pass and I was dismayed to find myself in rush hour traffic in some big city that didn't even resemble the Bend in my memories.

I filled up with $4.00-something gas and got out of there as fast as possible, going south on Highway 97.

I turned right at Highway 138 which runs up to Diamond Lake then down into Roseburg. Traffic was very sparse so I was able to cruise and admire the BIG trees and snow-covered mountains. I even spotted snow still under the trees. Twice I had deer run out in front of me.

I had to stop a couple of times for cat-naps but made it to Roseburg then over the mountains to the coast. Brunhilda was running fine and when I pulled into Bandon there was a fine drizzle coming down.

We made it!

...more follows...

Wyoming, the working man's state.

I wanted cooler air and I got plenty of it in Wyoming! It felt great to put on boots, long pants and a hoodie.

Like they say, be careful of what you ask for. I got cool air but it was blowing in my face at 20-30 mph.

I made it to Gillette, which is famous not for razor blades but for energy. That's energy with a big E. The town was filled with motels and they were all full. Lots of government cars and oil company vehicles filled the lots which meant this was a town feeding at the government trough and did not bode well for my budget.

I didn't feel like camping in the storm. The vision of me wading to the bathroom in the middle of the night while hail and lightning crashed down around me convinced me to seek warmer shelter.

I bypassed the motels that had a bar next door, hoping for some peace and quiet. (Of course, back in the day that would have been my first choice but time changes everything, even me.)

I eventually found a place where the owner gave me a break. He could see I wasn't a high roller so only hit me for 80 bucks (or about half a tank of gas.) The other places in town were $100-200 a night, he pointed out.

He put me upstairs where I had a window that faced the plains and mountains so I left the curtains open and watched the spectacular lightning show. The storms were really violent and the NOAA kept coming on warning of tornado watches. I hoped my van and bike would be there in the morning.

In the morning the storms had blown past and I checked on the sidecar. It had water in the tub but was otherwise OK. I sopped it up with a towel as best I could figuring the high winds would dry off the rest.

I had to change my plan to continue on I-90 to Seattle because the weather was pretty bad in Montana and northern Idaho, so I called my buddy Larry R. back in Bandon. He's from Wyoming so I asked him how to get home.

His recommended route would drop me back down to I-80 at Rawlins, then onto Highway 30 into Idaho. Off I went into a driving headwind.

As I headed southwest towards Rawlins, I reached over to pick up something on the floor in front of the passenger seat and found it was hot!

I pulled over and looked under the van but didn't see anything unusual. The van's mileage was up over 177,ooo miles at this point and I figured the combination of 18 years of use, headwinds, ethanol fuel and trailer weight was taking a toll on the old 4 speed automatic transmission. I had been driving in Overdrive (or 4th gear if you will) as much as possible and now I noticed it was slipping. It seemed to be OK in Drive so I pushed on. I knew the old war-horse wouldn't let me down.

I stopped a lot to let Brunhilda cool down and got to chat with a few folks along the way. My biggest impression is this is a woking-person's state. And I mean the kind of workers that wear coveralls, have mud on their boots and callouses on their hands. They drive big trucks fitted with mechanical robot-looking attachments and do incomprehensible things out in the wilderness whether it's raining or shining.

It seemed like a tough life around there, but nobody is belly-aching about it. They just do it.

I made it to the aptly named Rock Springs KOA that evening after a grueling drive. The whole campground was gravel and there were trailers parked in every space. Even the Kamping Kabins were full.

In the morning I realized what was up. The whole place got up early and went to work. Then a school bus came through picking up kids. It seems the KOA is full of people who live in trailers. I imagine because they can't afford a house. It looked like there was just a handful of travelers like me.

Next to me a motorcycle pulling a trailer was camped. The trailer opened up and made into a cool tent that had a space in front where you could stand up straight and had the sleeping area under a sloping cover. It looked pretty cool but I wonder how good it would be if you couldn't find level ground?

...more follows...

South Dakota. The Mount Rushmore State.

South Dakota is the home of the famous Mount Rushmore and the even more famous Wall Drug Store. I'm sure there are plenty of other things to see, but if you are on the interstate, the signs lead you to believe otherwise.

I stopped in Mitchell to fill up the gas tank and to get a look-see at one of the recommended sights, the Corn Palace. Here's the official story:

"The original Corn Palace, called "The Corn Belt Exposition" was established in 1892. Early settlers displayed the fruits of their harvest on the building exterior in order to prove the fertility of South Dakota soil. The third and present building was completed for it first festival at the present location in 1921. The exterior decorations are completely stripped down and new murals are created each year. The murals are designed by local artists, Oscar Howe having been one. New materials are applied to the building with each mural depicting an important facet of the lifestyle of South Dakota. These murals require thousands of bushels of corn, grain, grasses, wild oats, brome grass, blue grass, rye, straw and wheat each year."

I glanced in awe at the edible building wondering how many cats it took to keep the mouse population down, if the corn popped on really hot days and if deer snuck in at night to eat the facade.

It seemed the present mural is in honor of "American Heroes." As I drove by I saw depictions of police and firemen among the heroes.

Now don't get me wrong, I think those guys have a tough job that I would never do, but I feel the label hero is being used fast and loose in this country. A hero used to be somebody special, not just any joker in a special uniform...sports or otherwise.

If you ask me, a real hero would be the guys driving garbage trucks. Imagine getting up every day before dawn and dealing with that job.

Just think what our world would be like without them!

The thing that really impressed me about Mitchell was the price of gas. I had entered into $4.00 a gallon territory.

Oh, one other thing I liked was the gang of young hooligans buzzing around town on their 3 and 4 wheeled ATVs. It seems it's legal to drive them on the streets there. In the winter they drive snow-mobiles around town.

Now that's some real forward thinking by the local politicos. It makes far more sense to drive an ATV around town than a gas-sucking, 2 story 4X4 SUV.

I wish they'd wise up in Oregon and let us do that. Just think, it would mean more jobs (the politicians' holy grail) for ATV builders and a lot more fun for me.

As I progressed along the interstate, dark clouds with lightning flashes started brewing up ahead on my left and right. Feeling like Moses parting the waters, I progressed down the middle, staying dry.

The next big attraction was Wall Drug. They have billboards for hundreds of miles around and people around the world have taken to putting up signs showing the distance to Wall, SD and the free ice water they advertise.

The famous Wall drug turned out to be Fisherman's Wharf set in the middle of a boundless parking lot. I managed to see the sign rising above the tops of the masses of parked SUVs, while the drivers wandered the sidewalks telling each other where to find the cheapest gas in town.

I pressed on.

The next attraction was the Badlands and Mount Rushmore. As I drew closer, the clouds grew blacker and the lightning more spectacular. When I got to the turnoff, I was in a rainstorm that was even more violent over the famous Mount. "Catch ya next time." I said as I pressed on, crossing into Wyoming.

...more follows...

On the Interstates.

The first night, I made it to Harrisonville, Missouri which is just south of Kansas City. They promised fast internet but it was painfully slow and I was unable to even get my email. The AC worked great though so I cranked it all the way up. I guess it was more the humidity than the heat that was getting to me.

I walked over to one of those new (new to me anyway) fast-food places where they have Taco Bell, KFC and Burger King all in one place. The conflicting smells made me feel a bit woozy so I got my tacos to go.

One funny thing, there was a farmer in line next to me who was a dead ringer for the actor Robert Duvall! Even his mannerisms were pure Duvall. I could hardly keep a straight face and I'm sure he was wondering what the hell I was grinning about. I kept thinking it could have been Duvall doing some research for a part.

Back at the motel I checked the weather channel and saw tornados and thunderstorms moving through Nebraska and golf ball sized hail in North Dakota, but it looked like I could make it up to South Dakota and across on Interstate 90, so that was the plan.

The next day was a steady slog along the interstate through Missouri and Iowa, broken only by reststops, thunderstorms and lots of road construction.
It seems since that bridge collapsed in Minnesota, every bridge in the midwest is getting worked over.

I crossed into South Dakota and stopped at their "Welcome Center." The lady there gave me a bunch of tourist info along with the free state map and gave me the low down on all the tourist sites along I-90. If I had stopped to see everything, it would have taken days to get across the state.

Unfortunately, gas prices were rising every day and I was bucking a strong head wind which, coupled with pulling the trailer, was reducing my gas mileage. I was really wanting to just get back home.

When I got tired, I started looking for a motel or campground. I found a great motel in White Lake, SD. The owner was friendly, it was super-cheap and they even had a couple of wild cats roaming around the property. It was pretty much out in the boonies so all I had was cable TV.

I tried sitting out on the porch to watch the sunset but mosquitos drove me inside where I watched the RFD channel (Rural Free Delivery...an old addressing system the American post office used to utilize.)
And guess what was on? "Jolly Joe's Polka Hour!" From the look of the dancing couples, it looked like they may have been playing down at the old folk's sanitorium. There was one 40 year old blonde, dancing with the old guys, who was probably somebody's grand-daughter.
Even though I had no partner, I joined in, dancing in my underwear. It was a fine show and a good time was had by all.

I checked the weather and it looked like my luck was holding. I was dodging the tornados and most of the worst storms. All I had gone through were smaller rainstorms.
I sort of wished I could see a tornado but figured it would be better not to. I had seen the clouds roiling around and that was scary enough. I can't imagine what it would be like to see a funnel hit the ground and start heading your way.

...more follows...

Oh air conditioning, where art thou?

After a few hours of heat I realized I had to get cooler! I took off my t-shirt and dug out a pair of shorts which I hadn't worn since moving to the coast. The sun was relentless and I soon sported a sunburn on my left side and my left knee.

I spotted a Wal-Mart in one town so I stopped and bought a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of those sandals with velcro straps. The shirt was loose and airy but covered my burn spots. I covered my left leg with my hat, put on my shades and pushed on to the promise of cooler air.

...more follows...

The run for home.

I got into Bonnerdale and picked up my bike! It looks great. Mike did a great job on it.
But the weather was so hot and humid I felt really wrung out. (Makes me wonder how the hell I made it through 2 years in south-east Asia. I guess I was a couple of years younger back then.)

Anyhow, after loading up it was afternoon so I decided to get into some air conditioning, plan my route towards home and get a fresh start in the morning. I checked into the local motel where the owner recognized me from my previous stay there a month ago and told me the rates had gone up $4.00 since it was now "high season." I guess my minor celebrity of being a repeat customer didn't warrant a discount.

I walked down to the local Sonic Burger and did some carbo-loading for the ride home.
I'd never seen them before but Sonic Burger is all over the south and they actually have carhops. There's no place to sit inside but all the ones I've seen have a patio set-up so you can eat outside. They also have great pineapple milkshakes.

Back in the motel, I turned the AC on high and sweated through the weather channel report. Bad news! The route home through Texas, New Mexico, etc. was experiencing records high temps in he 100s. No way was I going that way!
There were also tornados and thunderstorms passing through the midwest, but the northern states like South Dakota and Montana promised cool temps.

I had been watching gasbuddy.com whenever I had an internet connection and noticed the states in the middle of the country had the cheapest (relatively speaking, of course) gas.

My plan was to go north to the Washington coast to see my brother-in-law in Bellingham so I had to break my cardinal rule and backtrack a bit.
It looked like if I went north on I-29 to Sioux Falls then west on I-90, I would be able to dodge the tornados and hit some cooler air up there.
Remember, my van has no AC, which is no big thing out on the coast but I was to find out how much it was worth.

I awoke in the morning to find all the bug bites I had been accumulating in various campgrounds were itching like mad. On top of that, the temp was already higher than the hottest summer day in Bandon and the humidity was making me sweat even while I was in the shower.
I loaded up, turned on the 55X2 AC (Americanism for rolling down the windows) and headed back the way I had come.

Even with all the distractions, the drive along the back roads was great. The scenery in the woods and the small towns along the way was a knock-out.
I managed to navigate my way through Fort Smith this time without ending up in Oklahoma and got onto the Interstate heading north.

My original plan was to wander the back roads and get in some bike riding while using campsites as a base but that was all changed now. The "perfect storm" of rising gas prices, tornados and a seriously over-extended budget was coming together.

I had to make a run for home.

...more follows...

Back to Bonnerdale.

I spent 3 wonderfully lazy days in Faribault, Minnesota with my brother Clyde and his partner Deb.
Clyde took me around to see the sights and to see the plant where he does consulting work, then we spent the rest of the time eating Deb's wonderful meals (dynamite ribs!), telling family stories and watching TV.

We were invited to their neighbor's house one night and sat out in the backyard around a fire ring until a thunderstorm finally opened up on us.
(A tornado actually touched down north of us but we didn't know about it until our brother Ernie called from California to ask if we were OK.)

I can't get over the fact that Clyde is 70 years old. He looks 40, acts 30 and went back to work after retirement because he can't sit around.

It was great seeing them.

I got an email telling me the bike was ready so Tuesday I headed down I-35 to Arkansas. I don't care for Interstates but I figured I could cruise in the granny lane at 60 mph which gives me the best mpg.

Nothing much to see or report on along the Interstate, although I have to give highest marks to Kansas City for the easiest transit through town. Everyone seemed to drive at the 55 mph speed limit and the roads were clearly marked. It was smooth sailing as I sang Van Morrison's song, "Excuse me, Do You Know The Way To Kansas City?"

In contrast I give Fort Smith, Arkansas the lowest rating. Although I was wide awake and trying to stay on my route, I twice ended up in Oklahoma heading west! The signs were confusing and traffic was heavy.

I stayed in a motel in Missouri so I could see the finish of a 2 part sci-fi series, "The Andromeda Strain" which I had started while at Clyde's house. It's a great remake of the old movie.

When I got to Arkansas, I camped at a KOA (Fayetteville?) through a hot muggy night. That kind of weather wears me out so I spent the night in a stupor. About 0200, my aging kidneys woke me up and I had to trek over to the bathroom. When I got back to the van, I decided to sit out a while in a nice cool breeze and look at the stars. As I sat there I saw a bright light come on over the treetops. It stayed on for about 5-10 seconds then went out. Immediately after that, a second bright light came on to the left of the first. Then a few more followed the pattern, all in a small area of the sky over the treetops.
Along the Interstate, I had noticed a lot of tall towers on hills which were probably cellphone towers or the like. I figured there was a cluster of these towers and maybe they were testing the aircraft warning lights they have on top. But usually those lights rotate or blink. These went on steady and were twice as bright as I would have expected.
In the morning, I scanned the area with binocs and there wasn't a tower in sight.

(Cue theme music from "The Outer Limits" here.)

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The Big Fish.

I was headed for my brother’s house in Faribault, Minnesota so I took Highway 63 which goes through the western side of Wisconsin.
As is the norm in this part of the country, the scenery is gorgeous. I passed lots of creeks, rivers and stands of woods, interspersed with small towns along the 2 lane highway I followed. One thing glaringly stood out along these roads…there’s no trash anywhere.
Either people don’t toss garbage onto the roads or the clean-up crew had just preceded my drive-through.

I was getting hungry and decided I needed to sample a local pasty. Since my first wife was from Cornwall and Devon in England, I’m no stranger to a good pasty.
More than once, road construction and traffic forced me to pass up some promising looking shops, but I finally found a bakery that had the foresight to put directions to the store on a billboard outside of town. In my haste I once again forgot the camera, but I’m happy to report the Wisconsin pasty is the equal of any in the world.

Since I spent most of the day lolly-gagging, I had only covered a few miles. I like to get situated in camp before 5 p.m. so I don’t have to fool around in the dark.
Looking at the map, I found there was a KOA in Hayward, Wisconsin just a couple of miles ahead. I pulled in and found a huge campground that was practically empty. When I checked in they told me that the next day over 200 kids were scheduled to arrive. Talk about good timing!

I got out of there in the morning and headed for the National Freshwater Fishing Hall of Fame and Museum in “downtown” Hayward. On the museum grounds is the “Shrine to Anglers”, a leaping muskie over 4 stories tall with an observation platform in its open mouth.

I was the first one into the place that morning except for this guy up on a crane who was painting the fish. I went into the museum buildings first. The place was astounding.
They have collections of everything you can think of that is related to fishing. 2 wings were full of outboard motors dating back to the early 1900s and they even have a Russian made motor that was taken off a boat full of Cuban refugees.
There are also canoes, ice fishing equipment, very early snowmobiles, harpoons, rods and reels, hooks, clothes, 2 Bigfoot statues and a hall of photos of record-winning catches in every classification you can think of.

I’m not even a fisherman and I spent 2 hours looking at everything!

When I finally got outside, the painter was just bringing the crane down for a break, so I went over to talk to him. I asked him about the paint he was using and he told me he originally painted it 30 years ago and this was his first re-paint. After a bit of discussion, I found out he was the original artist who built the fish!
He showed me a square panel on one side and said that it had to be added after the steel work was done. The building code requirements for the steel frame didn’t quite fit the original fish.

By the time I got out of there it was noon so I set a course for my brother’s house in Minnesota. The last time I had seen him was at a family reunion at Big Sur many years ago so I was looking forward to catching up.

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Yoopers, you betcha!

When last heard from, the intrepid traveler had opted for the warmth of a motel room and the promise of a free Continental breakfast in the morning…

I wondered why the cost of a room was so high until I went to the Pizza Hut next door and figured out the place was full of government workers. A good portion of the UP is federal land, so the area is apparently crawling with researchers, biologists, bug catchers and bird and bean counters.
I’ve logged plenty of comfortable hours in hotels on the company tab, so I’m not knocking the system. If one keeps the worker bees well-fed, showered off and up to date on their TV shows, it helps to keep morale and productivity high.

As I laid there on the huge bed, I realized I could have tried out a KOA Kamping Kabin. All KOAs have these little cutesy cabins and surely they must be heated. AND cheaper than a chain that feeds at the government trough.
Oh well…

I pulled out of town in a cold, driving rain and immediately discovered a bunch of cheaper motels just 5 miles down the road.
Oh well…

The road took me through more of the Hiawatha Forest which looks pretty unusual to me.
The terrain is small rolling hills and very short trees. Although I’ve never been there, and have no idea what it’s like, it made me think of Iceland.
There are lots of Finns and other Scandinavians living there, so maybe it looks like their part of the world.
(Make of it what you will, but I base my opinion on Stumble’s faux-scientific principle that California is a lot like Spain and there are a lot of Spanish people there.)
After a couple of hours the sun came out and warmed things up.

I stopped in a café that looked like it belonged in Scandinavia and had the lunch special, chicken pot pie with a biscuit on top and coleslaw on the side. It was an unusual looking (and delicious) dish but unfortunately I didn’t have my camera with me…note to self: always carry the camera. Also, the waitress was a big, blue-eyed blonde and only needed a horned helmet to look like Brunhilda.

One side of my wife’s family is Finnish from Ontonagon so I headed there.
I pulled into the town, which is right on the shore of Lake Superior, in the late afternoon, found a city campground right on the shores of Gitchee Gummi, set up camp and basked in the sun.

At first I felt like I was right on the edge of the ocean but after a while I noticed a couple of differences. The waves are small and come in without a break. There isn’t that ocean rhythm. There were also no seagulls, or any other water birds for that matter. It was very beautiful but felt a little off balance to this ocean-side dweller.

The town reminded me of home in Oregon in that it’s pretty, on the water and geared up for tourists. Probably has a lot of retirees too.
Some locals told me not to miss the Lake of the Clouds which is in a state park in the Porcupine Mountains west of Ontonagon, so I headed there in the morning.
.
The lady at the gate turned out to be a big fan of Oregon, had been to the coast and even ridden on the mail boats which run up the xx River. (Everyone who has been to the Oregon coast raves about those boats. I’ll have to give it a try one of these days.)
She then told me that there were loads of wood ticks around and to cover up. Great.

The lake turned out to be a mile long and only 15 feet deep, according to the signs explaining the geology of the area. There were also miles of trails that went all over the park, along with backpacker camps and, of course, wood ticks.

On the drive out of there, I was squirming every time I had an itch.


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With apologies to Henry "the Wad" Longfellow.

By the shores of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
Stood the wigwam of Sgt Stumble...

Ooop north...

Had a delightfully lazy weekend with my peeps.

Saturday we took a drive up to lake country and Sunday we laid around and watched the Cubs game on TV.

I decided it was time to get moving so I flipped a coin to see which way to go. Heads, I go to Michigan and see the Great Lakes; tails, I go south to get my bike. It came up heads so on Monday we said our farewells and I headed north into Michigan.

The Indiana countryside was really beautiful along the back roads I followed. I saw lots of old leaning barns but didn't notice if they leaned left or right. I'll have to pay attention to that in the future to see if there's a correlation with local political leanings.

I was planning to go into Elkhart to see the RV Museum, but the closer I got, the more the roads deteriorated and traffic grew intense. Rural scenery gave way to depressing industrial sprawl with many empty buildings that looked burned out. I see now why that area is called the rust belt.

I also see what a blessed life I lived on the west coast during my working career. I know there are a myriad of reasons for our present economic situation but it's always the working stiff that gets it in the neck.

I count myself lucky that I actually retired and am getting a pension, small as it is.

I decided to get out of that mess and turned north into Michigan.

On my map, it looked like a road ran alongside Lake Michigan. I imagined a pleasant drive along the coast, similar to Highway 1 along the California coast, but that was not to be. I couldn't see the water at all, just a 4 lane highway. As I went north, the scenery returned to farmland and beautiful woods.

I pulled into a KOA campground in Muskegon and found the owner is an Oregonian from Hillsboro, which is near Portland. I got the special home-town-boy's deal and parked facing a small lake. What a great view to wake up to.

An interesting factoid I learned: after the great fire in Chicago in 1871, the entire area around Muskegon was clear-cut logged to rebuild the city. That must have been a real sight...both the burnt city and the land around it.

I have to recommend the Muskegon KOA as best of the trip so far. Excellent campground, super clean bathrooms and a 1.2 mile trail through the woods around the lake.

I headed north and finally got to see Lake Michigan. At a rest stop was an observation tower. Over the tops of the trees, I could see the blue water. At a few places, the road started getting closer to the lake and I got a better look.

I think someone needs to build more places for tourists to pull over and gawk. As it was, whenever I came to a view I was in the middle of a traffic jam. I guess I could have pulled off onto a side street and attempted to get across the highway, but after almost causing a major pileup behind me by stopping to let a pedestrian cross the street, I realized that is not done around here. It's every man/woman for himself.

I went through a few resort towns and it looked like they were pretty vibrant and full of stuff to do. The motels advertised room rates around $30-$35 a night and I was tempted, but resort towns aren't my cup of tea these days. 20 years ago it would have been a no-brainer.

I continued north with the Michigan Upper Peninsula as my goal.

A couple of things I noticed all the way up: road kill and vehicles for sale. As the Spaniards used to say when I was stationed over there in the 60s, the roads are paved with leather.

All along the way I saw cars, tractors, motorcycles, house trailers and motor homes parked on lawns with for sale signs. I also noticed the used car lots had new scooters out in front of the cars. I'm not sure if they give them away with a new car or what. Gas is up to $4.00 a gallon here.

Eventually, I got to the Mackinac Bridge which goes over the straits of the same name. I got to see Lake Michigan on my left and Lake Huron on my right. What a sight. It looked just like the ocean.

However the temperature dropped and it started raining as I pulled off onto a smaller highway which led through the Hiawatha National Forest. Now, this is my kind of tourism! Forests all around, no traffic and tiny villages along the way. Though since it's early in the season not much is open.

The rain turned to snow in some places and I began to rethink my camping strategy. When I got to Newberry, I went to the gas station, filled the van and damn near froze my fingers and ears off. The KOA was right across the street and next to it a motel with HBO, high-speed wireless and free breakfast.

I caved and pulled out my credit card.

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The Man puts the red light on me. I see Mr. T's van.

Yesterday, I drove over to Auburn, Indiana to check out the WW2 Museum and take a look around at the town.

Small Mid-Western towns seem to be built in the same layout. There's a courthouse in the center and the old business district is built around it. Auburn is built in this style.

So I cruised down Main Street looking for the museum, which I understood to be across from the courthouse. It turned out to be a pretty busy town and the folks didn't seem inclined to let some out-of-town-Jasper dawdle along seeing the sights. They were down right pushy.
So I circled the courthouse, went back around to the front and parked, thinking I'd go into a cafe across the street and see what they had in the way of pie. That's when I noticed the police car with blinking lights blocking me in. Crap!

Some young guy came up and introduced himself in a manner reminiscent of a waiter. "Hi, I'm XXX with the Auburn Police Department." I half-expected him to say "I'll be your server today."

He asked if I had an appointment in the courthouse, probably thinking I had a van full of explosives and a score to settle with the local judge. I explained I was just a tourist looking for the museum and he told me it was back on the freeway, but just hang on and he'd give me directions. He took my "papers" and I waited while he ran my ID.
It took a while, probably because I'm from out of state, but he came back and gave me a warning ticket. He said an ambulance parked on the corner was blocking the stop sign and he understood. Then he gave me directions to the museum and sped off. Whew!
He was a very nice guy and wasn't at all threatening or intimidating but I noticed he managed to question me about my business without seeming to be doing so. Must be Homeland Security training.

I figured I better get while the getting was good, so I skipped the pie expedition and headed to the museum.

It turned out the museum was actually a group of museums all in the same huge building. Entrance fee was $10 but only $4 for veterans!
Guess all that time in the military finally paid off.

The WW2 section had a BUNCH of captured German vehicles, weapons uniforms, etc. I think there was more German stuff than American.
I saw a BMW motorcycle with a sidecar that looked just like my new Ural.

They also had Canadian, Russian, English and Italian stuff too, even a couple of planes.
There were mannikins dressed in uniform set in various tableaus, like riding in the vehicles, standing in groups, looking at maps, being taken prisoner and one scene of Russians meeting Americans.
It was really cool for a military buff (like me) and I highly recommend it to all.

I spent hours there and was getting tired but made a run through the Indiana baseball, Television history and car museums.
Most of the cars were Indy racing cars but one section had Hollywood cars. I saw Batman's car (it's really huge), Robin's Bat-Cycle (an old Suzuki 2 stroke), The Fonz's Triumph motorbike and last but not least... Mr. T's van!! I was totally surprised as I thought I read that it was rusting away in some Hollywood backlot.
It was pretty, shiny, impressive and looked totally cool. I may have to get a part-time job so I can build one just like it and get some gold chains.

All in all an exciting day.

I understand the RV museum is up the road in Elkhart which is on my route to the Great Lakes. This is car-lovers heaven up here.

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The big hole in Hoosier Land

Rick took the day off and showed me around Fort Wayne. We drove by the house where his parents lived, where I stayed a few days in 1969 on my way to my new duty station in Utah.
We checked out The Coney Island Hot Dog cafe in downtown Fort Wayne which has been there since Rick was a kid. It's a funky place but really busy. I had a dog, a coke in a small bottle and a piece of banana cream pie.

It was raining like mad all day but we went by this huge limestone quarry in town and checked it out from an observation tower. Man, it's one big hole, I would guess a mile across. Those little dots in the distance are huge rock-carrying trucks.

Hilary wanted to take me to an outdoor shopping mall that's styled in an Italian manner, but really, an old hot dog place and a big hole in the ground are my kind of tourist attractions.

Rick went to work today so we met him for lunch at a Chinese restaurant. Was I surprised to find the food as good as any in San Francisco!

Tomorrow I plan a trip to the War Museum in Auburn, the next town over.


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Into the Land of Hoosiers.

I got to add another cool vehicle to the list of cool vehicles I have piloted.
Ron showed me how to drive a New Detroit diesel tractor.
We went out to his back pasture and I got to “brush hog.” Kinda like mowing the lawn, only in an industrial manner. There were a lot of levers and pedals but I managed to knock down a few weeds.

I did some exploring while Ron and Kate were at work. Drove some back country roads in the morning, then when I got back, Ron had hooked up the horse and carriage so we went out for a ride in his ‘hood. That was pretty cool.
We spent Saturday video-taping a couple of his horses going through their paces, then Sunday editing the videos and napping.

Like fish, visitors begin to stink in a few days, so I decided it was time to head out.
We said our goodbyes Monday morning and I was back on the road.

I took Highway 21 north to Kentucky, heading for Colonel Sander’s first restaurant, but got sidetracked by another road that was labeled “The Tennessee Parkway”, a scenic route. It was definitely scenic and wound through a bunch of small towns.

I reached Pall Mall, Tennessee and stopped to see Sgt. Alvin York’s grave. It was very moving for me, being a military buff. For those who don’t know, he was a great American Army hero in WW1. He’s buried in a simple little church graveyard with gravel roads and a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains.

Just a spit and a holler from the Kentucky border I came across a country general store that advertised home made fudge so I had to stop. No pie, but excellent fudge.
I also had a sausage biscuit that was out of this world.

I crossed into Kentucky and drove a lot of back roads and before I knew it, I was in Louisville. I managed the maze of freeways and made it into Indiana.
It was still early so I kept driving until I saw a campground sign. I followed it and ended up somewhere near Bloomington. (I believe the movie, “Breaking Away” was filmed there. It was a movie about a bicycle racer, filmed in 1979, which I really identified with, since I was totally into bicycle riding at the time.)
The campground was empty so I had my pick of sites. I parked next to a lake full of Canadian Geese and had a very pleasant night.

I made it to Fort Wayne in good time, but spent about an hour touring the freeways trying to find the proper exit. Naturally my exit was right in the middle of a construction zone and not marked. The same thing happened when I was trying to find the exit to Jake’s Evil Lair. Must be the Kosmic Joke Center at work again.

So here I am with Rick and Hilary (my brother and sister-in-law) who I haven’t seen in 20 years.
Rick and I were stationed in Seville, Spain in 1966 to 1969. We arrived as bachelors and ended up married to two sisters from Devon. Naturally I went for the redhead, which always ends in trouble for me.

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Toonder and Lightning.

You old folks remember the boxer Ingmar Johannsson? He was a Swede who held the heavyweight champion title in the late 50s. They called his punches toonder and lightning. I can't remember what I had for lunch yesterday but I remember that...

Anyhow, we had lots of toonder and rain yesterday so I took care of some mundane tasks, one of which was getting the van's air vents fixed. Air would only come out of the vents by the windshield. No problem down at the beach, but I needed some air in the cab if I was to survive the 80 degree temps around here.

I pulled into a recommended garage to ask about an appointment and two guys came out and fixed it right where I had parked. A half hour and 40 bucks later I was cruising with fresh air in my face. Outstanding! It would be nice to have an air conditioner, but that would cost more than I paid for the van.

The days before the rain started, Ron and I rode some of his old restored bikes.

We took some dirt bikes out to his back pasture and scooted around and up and down hills like a couple of kids. We came back in with a couple of ticks though. Boy, does that make you feel itchy or what?
I got to ride a Hodaka Wombat. 125cc I think? What a kick!

We also went out on the road and I rode a 1967 Honda 305 Superhawk. It has an antique plate on it so my (new) gray beard, half helmet and waxed cotton jacket fit the image perfectly.
Back in 1965, when I was stationed in Thailand, I had a Super Hawk. It seemed like such a big bike back then. Of course I was a couple of pounds lighter back then.

The little Superhawk ran like a champ as we went along some twisty back roads. The back roads here are excellent, by the way. Smooth, no bumps and no potholes.
We came to a roadsign that warned of a section of particularly twisty road ahead and Ron took off on his 650 Kawasaki KLR.
I hunched down to get it on, looked to my right and spotted a huge billboard in front of a church. "Prepare to meet your maker." it read. No kidding! That really took the wind out of my sails and I putted slowly through that section.

Its rainy again today and Ron & Kate are at work so I think I'll go exploring in the van. See if I can find some pie.

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Kickin' around Harriman, Tennessee

Blackberry shortcake at the Utopia Cafe in Harriman, Tennessee. Not pie, but the best dessert I've had in 8 states!

Y'all ain't from around here...

Today Ron got out his Ural Patrol motorcycle (which is the same as my new one except for paint and accessories) and we went for a ride on the country roads around here. He had never ridden in the sidecar so he asked me to drive. He's a brave man, let me tell you.
I was happy to get some wheel-time on the new model. It's a bit different from my old 650cc but I started relaxing and getting the hang of it.

I have to say this part of Tennesee, at this time of year, is the most beautiful place I've ever seen. The roads were practically deserted and wound through farms, woods and over streams.
At one point we surprised 2 deer then a 3rd one jumped out and ran across in front of us. We also came up on a wild turkey.

We ended up in the Catoosa Wildlife Management Area and drove along unpaved roads. There were lots of bumps, ups and downs and potholes but the Ural soaked it all up with ease. They're made for use in Siberia so American dirt roads are easy.

We spotted a rutted hill and Ron wanted to try out the 2 wheel drive so I climbed up the hill and took some pictures of him coming up the trail. The Ural made it easily.

A couple of old guys came by in a pickup (the only car we saw back in there) and stopped to chat. Soon as I started talking he said, "Y'all ain't from around here, are you." Guess I'll have to work on my accent.

We got back to the paved road and stopped in a little town for a snack and drink and saw a couple of prisoners at the courthouse, washing the sheriff's car. How could I tell? Well, they had on black and white striped pants and shirts that had PRISONER printed on them. Pretty hilarious.

I was getting tired so Ron took over the driving and I rode in the sidecar for the last 10 miles to home. He's a lot smoother driver than I am. I started leaning in the turns and he was able to pick up the pace a little and we had some fun.

For those who have never ridden in an outfit, when you make a right turn the sidecar wheel wants to lift off the ground. That's called "flying the chair."
The passenger (or "monkey" if on a racing outfit) can help keep the wheel down by leaning way out to the right.
On left turns the rear wheel of the bike wants to come off the ground so everybody leans left. In racing, the monkey actually lays on the seat behind the driver to keep the wheel on the ground.

The Ural is far from a racing bike but the same principles apply. It's just harder to throw your weight around because the passenger is enclosed in a steel tub. You can go a lot faster when the wheels stay on the ground and it's quite a thrill when you get going fast.

It's also a lot of hard work throwing a 900 pound bike around. We both came home tired.

Anyhow, it was a beautiful day and the scenery was a knockout. If there was an ocean here, I'd live here in a hot minute!

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And the winner is...

Yesterday I went to a horse event (my first), A Carriage Ride in the Country.
My friends, Ron & Kate own a smal herd of Gypsy Vanner horses along with a pack of dogs and a trio of mules. We left early in the morning for a ranch near Nashville towing a trailer containing Bowtie the horse and a fancy 4-wheeled carriage.

Bowtie is a Gypsy Vanner who came from England where he was used to haul freight, then pulled caravans across England, then ended up in the USA where he now lives a life of ease.

Anyhow, after getting all dressed up in a traditional country costume with hat, necktie and jacket, Ron hooked him up to the carriage and went through a "presentation" that was judged by an English lady who's dad was Colonel such-and-so of the Royal Horses or something. All very posh, but Greek to me. She was also in a movie starring Don Knotts. She was personally a nice lady and not at all snobby about it, but how snobby could one be after being in a movie with Don Knotts?

Then, much like a car rally, they went through a marked course at various speeds. Ater that they went through a hazard couse with various things to try to distract the horses.

Then came the endurance cross-country ride. Ron's wife graciously gave me her place on the carriage, so off we went.

Man, it was beautiful! Once we left the arena area we followed a marked course across hill and dale, through the "Fairy Woods", across a creek and past a couple of other ranches (I think that's what they call them around here??) The sun came out and we had blue skies with huge white clouds. The grass and trees were (dare I say it?) GREENER than Oregon. It was the coolest ride I've ever been on.

They had gift baskets in the Fairy Woods with each competitor's number. Funnily enough, since Ron & I are motor-guys, ours was sitting on an old junk Lincoln.

I have to say I have a new appreciation for how rough it must have been on our forefathers, riding in a jolting wagon across country.

When we got back to the arena area, there was wine and cheese while we watched the Kentucky Derby on TV. A horse fell after the finish and broke both ankles and had to euthanized on the spot, which brought down the mood of everyone present, considering they all love horses so much.

Following that, we had a wonderful home-cooked meal with fresh vegetables that were grown in the ground right next to the dining tables. This was followed by desserts and one of the choices was homemade rum-soaked chocolate pecan pie! What a meal!

After all that came the awards. Lo and behold, Ron won 1st place in the endurance race. So even though I was just deadweight, I was on the winning team! Pretty cool.
Then he won another couple of ribbons and took the grand over-all prize! Ron and Kate were about as happy as they could be.

All in all, it was a fine day.

(I'd sure like to ride that course on my Ural!)


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Long distance operator, give me Memphis Tennessee

Fleeing the bugs, I arrived in Memphis, Tennessee pretty early. There was a lot of traffic but no big jam-up like I expect around big cities.
I pulled into the visitor’s center to glom a free map and was greeted by a huge statue of BB King holding Lucille. In the next room was a statue of Elvis.
All around the huge room were displays with pictures of famous musicians, taken back in the day. It was fabulous.
I thought about cruising around the city but figured I’d only get lost and pull some dumb tourist move and get mugged or go down a one-way street the wrong way, so I got back on the Interstate and droned on.

Checking the map, I saw a KOA and pulled in even though it was only around noon. I was beat, needed a shower and had a pile of laundry to do.

Turns out this place is next to the freeway so all I hear are caravans of semi trucks. But it has excellent wireless access and I found a great BBQ shack down the road.
Pulled pork, bread, side of macaroni salad, side of baked beans, sweet tea and a brownie for less than 10 bucks! I couldn’t even finish it all.

Loretta Lynn must be from around here too. Her family has a flea market up one of the back roads.

So tomorrow I’ll be in Harriman, Tennessee. My friends have show horses so we’re going to a horse show on Saturday. Then Ron and I will do some bike riding as he has some days off. I hope he still has the W650.

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Attack of the bug things!

After a great southern fried steak dinner with Flicka and Mike, I took off for Hot Springs, Arkansas. It turns out Bill Clinton grew up there. It looks like a pretty well-to-do town so maybe some of the gumment grease rubbed off onto the locale.
To be fair, it was always a tourist spot and attracted the moneyed set so maybe the place made it on its own. Seeing as how motels were sky-high I headed for the KOA campground (official camping hosts to the insearchofpie team.)

There were lots of expensive motor homes with expensive tow cars around the park, but at the tent area there was only one young couple.
They were from Minnesota and had that accent like you hear in the movie “Fargo.”
Lots of “you betcha” and “Oh yah.” They were a very sweet couple and pulled me over to their campfire and forced me to roast marshmallows while we told camping stories.
I told them about the meteor (or whatever) that I saw in Texas and the fellow said he saw that same object up in Minnesota when they were driving down to Arkansas. Amazing.

The next day I got on the interstate heading east. I saw a sign for a state park called Village Creek, so decided to try it out. The ranger even gave me the senior discount after she saw my license. She said she didn’t think I was that old. Bless her heart!
It’s a beautiful park. I think she said it was 7,000 acres, or was it 17,000? Whatever, it’s huge.

There was a big 3 day long musical to-do happening on May 1st (the next day) with a lot of pickin’ and grinning’. What luck!

But luck turned to literal horse poop when I was sent to the equestrian camp ground.
I guess the rest of the park was full of pickers and grinners.
The minute I stepped out of the van I was swarmed by bugs! Little flying suckers that went into my ears, mouth, eyes and nose. GAH!!!!
It was hot and muggy but I locked myself into the van, only venturing out for the bathroom which was a 100 yard gauntlet. They were especially attracted to my bald head where they would land then do some bug version of the Macarena. I eventually tied a bandanna around my head for my few dashes to the head, which made me look a bit like a pot-bellied Rambo wannabe with Tourettes Syndrome and drew stares from the other campers.

Then to top it off, in the middle of the night something kept whanging into my CB antenna. I wasn’t under any trees so it couldn’t have been branches.
At first I thought someone after a night of sippin’, pickin’ and grinnin’ was foolin’ with me, but my van stands about 6 feet tall and the antenna goes up another 3 feet. I have to open the slider door and stand on the step to reach it, so it couldn’t have been a person doing it.
I figured bats would be able to avoid it with their radar so maybe there were birds flying around after the bugs. I never heard any bird getting his breath knocked out or saying ouch or swearing though and once it whanged 3 times in a row.
Every time it got hit, the whole van would reverberate like a big gong. I now know how the WW2 submariners felt hearing the depth charges hit the outside of the boat.

When morning came I lit out of there in a big hurry. I even drove to the bathroom so I could make a quick getaway. Not even a shower, just get the hell out!

We don’t get a lot of bugs on the Oregon coast. I guess the cold and wind forces them to move to Arkansas.

…more follows…