Tonight I had one of the most poignant and meaningful experiences I've had in a long time and I have my scooter to thank for it...kind of indirectly, but it was responsible nevertheless.
It was pretty much a quiet day. My wife had to work at 1:30 and as usual, she slept until 11:30, leaving me to kick around all morning by myself. I went to Hobo Joe's for some scrambled eggs and coffee then rode to a local independent motorcycle shop who mounted my new rear tire for me (the third in a year...13,000 miles will do that). For ten bucks. Nice guys. Then I moseyed home and bounced around the internet for a while. Got bored. Did the dishes. Folded the clothes I'd run through the washing machine last night. Played the piano a little. Went to my sister's house to get my garage workbench and air tank that's been at her place for a couple of years. Went home. About that time Ski awakened and got ready for work. Said our goodbyes and I just looked around. Now what?
So, I trimmed some bushes, cleaned out the garage enough I could fit the bench in and still walk. Swept the driveway where the bush trimmings had fallen. Loaded them in the pickup and took them to where I used to work where there's a big ravine that everyone uses for bush trimming disposal and disposed of them. Moseyed back home. Looked at my scooter. Cleaned the bugs off the windshield. Then, with nowhere to go and nothing in particular to see, I put my helmet and "Wild Man" jacket on and headed out.
I headed northeast on 89A towards Sedona for a mile or two, then hooked a right onto Cornville Road which leads you to (you guessed it...) Cornville, Az. There are a few nice corners and curves on the way and the Buddy was running perfectly. New air filter, thoroughly cleaned carburetor, new fuel filter, new rollerweights in the transmission, new windshield and a new rear tire. I was STYLIN'! I crossed the Verde River in Cornville then went the additional mile or so to KC's Corner where I took a left onto Page Springs Road...an 8 mile, beautifully curvy piece of tarmac just calling my name. I took the corners just as fast as I could...easily doubling the suggested speed limits. Page Springs Road dumps out onto 89A again where I turned left again and neaded back into Cottonwood and home. Fabulous, albeit short (20 miles) ride.
Went home. Repaired the front door. Tidied up the garage a little more. Played some more piano. Was kinda lonely. TV didn't interest me (rarely does). By this time it was getting dark...about 8:00. Okay, time for another ride.
A couple of weeks ago, the city of Cottonwood sponsored a competition/festival/motorcycle rally called "Rythym and Ribs" in which the inhabitants of our small city tasted and declared which restaurant served up the best ribs. And at the same time got to listen to the Marshall Tucker band in concert. All for ten bucks! Anyway, a small place in Cornville named the Grasshopper Grill won the title of "Best Ribs". I voted for 'em. And this was a place I'd never been. Maybe I needed to check 'em out.
Bottom line; I headed for the Grasshopper Grill for dinner. Again I rode the fine curves into Cornville and hooked a left into the parking lot at the junction of Cornville Road and Page Springs Road, parked the scooter and hung up my helmet and went inside and was immediately taken 35 years back in time.
The Grasshopper Grill is a very small place, room for about 12 tables with a few outside in the backyard and a small bar. The decor was straight out of a hunting lodge somewhere in the mountains of Colorado...peeled log railings and walls, laquered wood tables and chairs and bar. Having grown up in the mountains of Colorado, I felt right at home. This was, of course, a Friday night and the place was packed. The great thing was, it was packed with families. Just being families. Over here were three families, including all their children and an extra man friend of the family. Over there were two more...and, well, you get the idea. The men were truck drivers, construction workers, mechanics...the guys who make our lives function everyday. They were out at this little place, eating dinner, having a couple brews and just being families. The men didn't ignore their wives. Nobody ignored the kids. The kids were playing the video games...one that had two plastic rifles where the players "hunted" game and accumulated points. One had card games.
I ordered the fabulous carnitas tacos and just reveled in the ambiance. A couple guys were discussing how to repair a piece of equipment. A couple more were talking about where they'd drawn their big game tags this year. Their arms were around their wives. When a kid came up, they got their hair tousled or got a hug. THESE were families. THEN it was karaoke time. Mostly classic country songs. Some the wives sang. Some the guys sang. A LOT was sung by the myriad of kids...sometimes all at once. I couldn't keep the smile off my face.
Here were people just enjoying a Friday night together. Eating, talking, laughing, singing and loving. This place could have been in Red Lodge, Montana where I lived 35 years ago, just out of high school. Natalie's Cafe was in downtown Red Lodge, where I saw the same things so long ago, and as I thought about those days in Montana and tonight in Cornville, Arizona, I realized that THIS is what the human spirit longs for. And that I'd lost track of somewhere along the way. It's not the big, important position at the company. It's not the newest car or biggest house. It's having a family to belong to. With a tear in my eye, I texted Shelly (my sister) to tell her what I was experiencing and told her she and my niece McKenzie (I call her Mac) should be there with me and we shared, through texting, how important we are to each other and promised breakfast together in the morning.
I left the Grasshopper Grill reluctantly and followed Page Springs Road again to 89A and headed back towards Cottonwood, retracing my earlier steps. About halfway to Cottonwood, I realized I wasn't ready to go home yet and pointed the scooter in the direction of the mountain community of Jerome. I chased the curves up the mountain and through the town to a parking area about 2 miles above the town. I pulled in and parked the Red Baron, pulled my helmet off and leaned against the stone wall, just listening to the night and reflecting on what I'd seen.
A more beautiful autumn evening couldn't have been found. There was a full moon, shaded by some high clouds and faint, cool breezes cascading down from the 7000 foot summit of Mingus Mountain. Every now and then a car or truck would go by on their way to Prescott, maybe...or Cottonwood or Sedona. I could see through the "V" formed by the mountains on either side and be rewarded with the twinkling lights of Clarkdale and Cottonwood and off in the distance, Sedona. With the breeze almost lovingly caressing my face, I considered all the "family" I'd seen tonight. Something most of us don't have time for. Something we allow daily pursuits to get in the way of. Something we let our personal aspiration prevent us from appreciating. These families probably didn't own their own homes or a new vehicle, and if they DID own their own home, it was probably a house trailer. They didn't earn salaries in the 6-digit range. They just earned a living and spent the rest of their lives living. Where is my family, I wondered? Why do I so often feel alone? Where did I slip sideways? As the clouds altered the shadows around me and the breeze brought the fragrance of the cedars to me, I understood finally, that family is what the human spirit longs for. And that most of us push it away, because it is sometimes inconvenient. I realized, that in many ways, Shelly and her kids are the only family I'm close to...and believe it or not, we're not even REALLY family. Shelly and I "adopted" each other as brother and sister about 10 years ago...before I even knew my wife. We understood that that is our relationship and we both need it. And I am blessed to have what family I have.
I smiled at the moon and thanked God for the insight he gave me tonight and for the level of joy I'd seen. My friends, it IS possible. And it IS good.
I, reluctantly again, pulled my helmet on, straddled the Red Baron, fired it up and headed back down the mountain with a little better understanding of what's important.
...and it was a little red motorscooter, always pulling me down the road to new places, that led me to where I needed to be tonight and I am grateful.
--Keys
Friday, September 28, 2007
Friday, September 21, 2007
Promised pictures from last week's trip.
I promised you pictures to cover the trips I took last weekend and here are some from the FIRST trip I took last Thursday from Cottonwood to Flagstaff, up Oak Creek Canyon.Well, kids, there's the famous Sedona, Arizona. Proclaimed by someone (I forget who) to be the most beautiful place on earth. That person has OBVIOUSLY not been to Colorado. But I digress. The next picture down is just north of town looking to a sort of southerly direction at the spires just outside of Sedona. The next shows the bridge you have to cross to span Oak Creek...WAAAaaaaay down in the bottom. The last picture is from a vantage point under the bridge and looking down Oak Creek canyon towards Sedona, which can be seen climbing the hillside at the end of the canyon.
Pics from last week's trip...
The top picture shows the pretty, narrow, tree-lined road from just north of Sedona to nearly "The Switchbacks". Then of course, in the middle of this little paradise is a Dairy Queen! That is the Red Baron handsomely posing in front. The third is a picture of the people all playing down on the river at Slide Rock state park.
New pics from last week's trip
These pics are from the end of the trip, at the top of the rim. The top pic is at the edge of the rim lookin south towards where Sedona would be. Below it is...well, the Rim! The Mogollon Rim...some kind of volcanic structure. The third pic shows "The Switchbacks" and why they're called that. The one below it is just me standing on the edge looking down. Then the bottom one is looking northwest above the ranger station at Slide Rock state park.Saturday, September 15, 2007
What A Weekend!!!
First of all, I must apologize. You see, my wife and my sister went to Las Vegas this last week for time away from everything and, well...my wife took the camera. Therefore, although the scenery I witnessed yesterday and today both rivaled the best ever, I have no photos. Bum'r. HOWEVER, I intend to do these rides again in the near future, with camera in hand.
I got off work at 1:00 a.m. Thursday morning, came home, slept until about 7:30 and dragged myself out of bed, just KNOWING I would ride SOMEwhere. I met my friend Pat down at Hobo Joe's for some biscuits and gravy and a large helping of B.S. And I'm here to tell you, when Pat and I get together, there is some B.S. flyin'! I left the cafe and stopped for gas and throttled the Buddy in a northeasterly direction out of Cottonwood, heading for Sedona. The scooter was running nicely and the ride was pleasant. I cruised through West Sedona (the industrial and lower rent part of town) and on into "uptown" Sedona...the tourist area. There is a shop there named "I Love Who" that I have commissioned to make my "skutergruven" t-shirts. I would like to take this opportunity to enlighten you as to the reason for the name; "I Love Who". Unfortunately, I can't. I don't have a clue.
Anyway, I decided to park the Buddy at the underground parking lot there in "uptown" and moseyed across Hwy 89A to the t-shirt shop. The guy behind the counter showed me the prototype of my shirt with the logo and my motto; "Proudly Ignoring Popular Opinion" and I was quite pleased. I asked if the prototype was for sale and they just gave it to me. In return I bought some new patches for my jacket. Fair is fair. So I changed shirts and proudly walked out with the very first "skutergruven" t-shirt. They should be available within a week or two, if you're interested. E-mail me at skutergruven@netscape.com if you want one. Prices should be pretty darned reasonable since I'm not trying for a big ol' profit. I'm just trying the finance the next batch of 'em.
Back on the scooter, I continued north on Hwy 89A towards Flagstaff...some 30 miles away and a 4000 foot climb in elevation...most of it in a 5 mile section called "the switchbacks". The Buddy purred nicely out of town as I saw some of the most spectacularly wind-sculptured spires and cliffs on the face of the planet. The red rocks and dirt were embroidered by the green of the scrub cedars climbing the hills and working their way down onto the banks of Oak Creek. I crossed the curved span of the bridge that carries one from one side of Oak Creek canyon to the other...a distance of several hundred yards and affording a view up and down the canyon that will just take one's breath away. There is a small parking area there where a person can stop to take pictures, or if you'd like, traverse the trail leading to the shaded bottom of the canyon. I believe someone once told me the trail goes for several miles. It is a pretty good climb to the nether reaches of Oak Creek Canyon, but it is a trek of almost unparalleled beauty.
With my little wheels spinning happily, I fairly flew over the sun-dappled pavement as the oak and cottonwood trees reached above to join leaves above me, granting me shaded relief from the Arizona sun. About 2 or 3 miles into the canyon, the Buddy began to cough and sputter a little. I have since come to recognize these symptoms as the scooter telling me the carburetor is getting a little dirty. I stopped in a little, shady pullout and pulled the seat bucket off the scooter, allowing me access to the engine. I grabbed a screwdriver and a can of carb cleaner from inside the seat bucket, removed the two screws holding the top of the carb on, removed the top, sprayed the carb clean, replaced everything, started it up and continued on my way. Five minutes, tops. Never had anymore problems.
Next I passed Slick Rock State Park. This is an area where Oak Creek courses over a series of...who would have guessed...flat rocks! I'd guess the creek is a good 20 yards across at this point and although it is fairly broad, it is pretty shallow. This makes for some good family fun! The place is PACKED every weekend in the summer with people trying to escape the heat and slide down the slick rocks in the cool mountain creek. Mostly these people just get in my way as I try to race the canyon.
I pulled into the Dairy Queen somebody put up in the middle of this scenic ride for a bottle of water. Why a Dairy Queen and why there, escapes me. So I popped my water and visited with my friend Donna who occupies a little shack there by all the Native American jewelry vendors, trying to interest the tourists in a friendly bit of time-sharing. At least, I THINK that's what she does there. Now, Donna has a healthy interest in motorscooters and was planning to pick up a used one with her income tax check when it came in, but wouldn't you know it, one of her 4 kids needed braces, so no scooter for Donna. She is a single mother trying to raise 4 kids alone and I think it would be great if someone could come up with some kind of a fund raising effort so we could help her out with getting a used scooter. Any ideas?? I could use some help, here...
Back on the road, I headed once again for Flagstaff. I passed the hairpin curve where last September Irish Tim wrecked his Stella on the Something For Nothing Rally (coming up again next Saturday). He's okay. The Stella's okay. All is good with the world. That is the start of "the switchbacks". The Red Baron climbed strongly and steadily to the top...in fact, my forward progress was hindered by a couple of cars. They pulled off at the scenic overlook to take pictures and babble excitedly over the Native American jewelry being hawked there. I didn't.
The road opens up there and it's a shallow climb for the eight or so miles into Flagstaff. For some reason, this stretch seems harder to climb than the switchbacks. I was averaging about 55 mph or so, but it sure seemed slower. I'd hit 65 now and then, but I'd also drop to 45 on occasion. I battled traffic through town to the "Flying Dorffini" motorcycle shop. They worked on my Buddy once last year, and they are a couple of great guys. Come to find out, Wade is moving to Nicaragua and Curtis is taking over the shop. We visited for a while and he said he'd be glad to carry my t-shirts in his shop and we said we'd meet up again next Saturday for the rally. I fueled up and headed home.
The ride home was uneventful except for some of the tourists being scared to death to actually negotiate a curve. Get them off of the superslab and they are completely lost! The temperatures were mild, the road was perfect, the scooter ran well, I got to visit with some friends and I'm wearing a "skutergruven" t-shirt. Does it get any better than this????
So, I get home and my buddy, Suds, gives me a call. Friday (today, by my watch) is the birthday of his wife Marina and Suds threw a last minute ride together with some of his Harley riding pals to go to Strawberry (a town in Arizona...NOT a shortcake) for breakfast to celebrate. Although I don't ride a Harley, Suds doesn't mind and invited me anyway. With Ski still in Vegas, I was down for another ride!
I showed up at his place at 8:30 this morning on the Helix. I decided to ride the Helix so I could at least pretend to keep up. Turns out, I kept up just fine! Just one other couple showed up to ride with us, so the group was small. A cup of coffee and some gas and we were GONE!! Eastward on Hwy 260 we went, through Cottonwood, past the jail where I work, over I-17 and through Camp Verde we went. I stayed at the rear, enjoying the song of the open-piped V-twins ahead of me. We climbed the infamous "goat-trail" to the top of the rim (the Mogollon Rim...a major landmark in Arizona) where the road flattened out. Climbing the goat-trail, I occasionally slowed to as low as 55 mph, but for the most part, we cruised at over 60 most of the way. After the road flattened out on top, we touched 80 a time or two. Traversing the rim is a spectacular ride! Open mountain meadows on either side of the road break up against big Ponderosa Pines and scrub oak on the far side, then to the south the land just disappears only to appear again about 30 miles away in the form of evergreen-covered hills and mountains that slowly fade on the horizon. If you didn't know, you'd never guess from the view that those mountains, just beyond the horizon slope down into the Salt River Valley where lies the great sticker patch known as Phoenix...in the Valley of the Sunstroke.
The temperature had dropped a good 10 - 15 degrees up there on the top of the rim and the crisp air felt SO good. Melissa and Marina, however, were considering jackets about that time. Eric, Suds and I thought it could get no better. Eventually, the meadows gave way to closely packed pines known as black timber. The cool air and the smell of the evergreens took me back to my home state of Colorado where I grew up at over 8000 foot elevation. I was home.
Hwy 260 ended, just as it always does, at the north-south Hwy 87. We headed south the 8 or 10 miles to Stawberry where we parked at the cafe for breakfast. Just as I finished up my spanish omelet, the waitress brought a banana chimichanga topped with chocolate sauce and vanilla ice cream and a candle. We all sang a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday" to Marina...and very badly, I might add...and dug in! Good stuff!!!
Suds was thinking he needed a beer, so we continued south another 3 or 4 miles to the town of Pine, where we stopped at a nice little bar so he could wet his whistle. Back on the bikes and on the road to home. We stopped at a pulloff on top of the rim once to relax a little...there was a tremendous headwind and it took a little muscle to deal with. We joked around a little, told a few lies, teased each other and just enjoyed each other's company. A nice little break. We let Eric lead the way down the goat-trail into Camp Verde since neither Suds nor I see any reason to let a set of corners slow us down, but Eric does. We casually cruised into town, through town, out of town and on into Cottonwood where I headed home and the others headed to a local bar for more whistle-wetting.
A little side-bar here. My girl, Hot Tomato, has had a dream of becoming an Animal Control officer down there in the Valley of the Sunstroke and she was recently called in for a second interview (good news). She had put me down as a reference and gave me the heads-up that they might call today, which is why I headed home at this time. Sure enough, there was a message on my phone from the officer down there so I returned his call and gave Hot Tomato a glowing review. All truth, though. Truth is, there is NO one I'd trust more were I to be caught in a foxhole in combat. I could rest assured that my back was covered as long as she could still draw a breath. Means a LOT to me. I told the Sergeant that. Two hours later H.T. called me. She got the job!! Good on you, girl. You make me proud.
I made my call to the Sergeant and rejoined Suds, Marina, Eric and Melissa at the watering-hole (on the Red Baron this time) for an afternoon of tomfoolery. Water fights, stories, plans for the next ride and just good comradery.
I'm sitting here at my keyboard tonight writing this and just realized...I still have another day and a half of my weekend left!! What will happen tomorrow?!?!?
So far it's one of the best weekends ever. Only thing missing is you. ...and the camera, of course...
C-ya...ride on!
--Keys
I got off work at 1:00 a.m. Thursday morning, came home, slept until about 7:30 and dragged myself out of bed, just KNOWING I would ride SOMEwhere. I met my friend Pat down at Hobo Joe's for some biscuits and gravy and a large helping of B.S. And I'm here to tell you, when Pat and I get together, there is some B.S. flyin'! I left the cafe and stopped for gas and throttled the Buddy in a northeasterly direction out of Cottonwood, heading for Sedona. The scooter was running nicely and the ride was pleasant. I cruised through West Sedona (the industrial and lower rent part of town) and on into "uptown" Sedona...the tourist area. There is a shop there named "I Love Who" that I have commissioned to make my "skutergruven" t-shirts. I would like to take this opportunity to enlighten you as to the reason for the name; "I Love Who". Unfortunately, I can't. I don't have a clue.
Anyway, I decided to park the Buddy at the underground parking lot there in "uptown" and moseyed across Hwy 89A to the t-shirt shop. The guy behind the counter showed me the prototype of my shirt with the logo and my motto; "Proudly Ignoring Popular Opinion" and I was quite pleased. I asked if the prototype was for sale and they just gave it to me. In return I bought some new patches for my jacket. Fair is fair. So I changed shirts and proudly walked out with the very first "skutergruven" t-shirt. They should be available within a week or two, if you're interested. E-mail me at skutergruven@netscape.com if you want one. Prices should be pretty darned reasonable since I'm not trying for a big ol' profit. I'm just trying the finance the next batch of 'em.
Back on the scooter, I continued north on Hwy 89A towards Flagstaff...some 30 miles away and a 4000 foot climb in elevation...most of it in a 5 mile section called "the switchbacks". The Buddy purred nicely out of town as I saw some of the most spectacularly wind-sculptured spires and cliffs on the face of the planet. The red rocks and dirt were embroidered by the green of the scrub cedars climbing the hills and working their way down onto the banks of Oak Creek. I crossed the curved span of the bridge that carries one from one side of Oak Creek canyon to the other...a distance of several hundred yards and affording a view up and down the canyon that will just take one's breath away. There is a small parking area there where a person can stop to take pictures, or if you'd like, traverse the trail leading to the shaded bottom of the canyon. I believe someone once told me the trail goes for several miles. It is a pretty good climb to the nether reaches of Oak Creek Canyon, but it is a trek of almost unparalleled beauty.
With my little wheels spinning happily, I fairly flew over the sun-dappled pavement as the oak and cottonwood trees reached above to join leaves above me, granting me shaded relief from the Arizona sun. About 2 or 3 miles into the canyon, the Buddy began to cough and sputter a little. I have since come to recognize these symptoms as the scooter telling me the carburetor is getting a little dirty. I stopped in a little, shady pullout and pulled the seat bucket off the scooter, allowing me access to the engine. I grabbed a screwdriver and a can of carb cleaner from inside the seat bucket, removed the two screws holding the top of the carb on, removed the top, sprayed the carb clean, replaced everything, started it up and continued on my way. Five minutes, tops. Never had anymore problems.
Next I passed Slick Rock State Park. This is an area where Oak Creek courses over a series of...who would have guessed...flat rocks! I'd guess the creek is a good 20 yards across at this point and although it is fairly broad, it is pretty shallow. This makes for some good family fun! The place is PACKED every weekend in the summer with people trying to escape the heat and slide down the slick rocks in the cool mountain creek. Mostly these people just get in my way as I try to race the canyon.
I pulled into the Dairy Queen somebody put up in the middle of this scenic ride for a bottle of water. Why a Dairy Queen and why there, escapes me. So I popped my water and visited with my friend Donna who occupies a little shack there by all the Native American jewelry vendors, trying to interest the tourists in a friendly bit of time-sharing. At least, I THINK that's what she does there. Now, Donna has a healthy interest in motorscooters and was planning to pick up a used one with her income tax check when it came in, but wouldn't you know it, one of her 4 kids needed braces, so no scooter for Donna. She is a single mother trying to raise 4 kids alone and I think it would be great if someone could come up with some kind of a fund raising effort so we could help her out with getting a used scooter. Any ideas?? I could use some help, here...
Back on the road, I headed once again for Flagstaff. I passed the hairpin curve where last September Irish Tim wrecked his Stella on the Something For Nothing Rally (coming up again next Saturday). He's okay. The Stella's okay. All is good with the world. That is the start of "the switchbacks". The Red Baron climbed strongly and steadily to the top...in fact, my forward progress was hindered by a couple of cars. They pulled off at the scenic overlook to take pictures and babble excitedly over the Native American jewelry being hawked there. I didn't.
The road opens up there and it's a shallow climb for the eight or so miles into Flagstaff. For some reason, this stretch seems harder to climb than the switchbacks. I was averaging about 55 mph or so, but it sure seemed slower. I'd hit 65 now and then, but I'd also drop to 45 on occasion. I battled traffic through town to the "Flying Dorffini" motorcycle shop. They worked on my Buddy once last year, and they are a couple of great guys. Come to find out, Wade is moving to Nicaragua and Curtis is taking over the shop. We visited for a while and he said he'd be glad to carry my t-shirts in his shop and we said we'd meet up again next Saturday for the rally. I fueled up and headed home.
The ride home was uneventful except for some of the tourists being scared to death to actually negotiate a curve. Get them off of the superslab and they are completely lost! The temperatures were mild, the road was perfect, the scooter ran well, I got to visit with some friends and I'm wearing a "skutergruven" t-shirt. Does it get any better than this????
So, I get home and my buddy, Suds, gives me a call. Friday (today, by my watch) is the birthday of his wife Marina and Suds threw a last minute ride together with some of his Harley riding pals to go to Strawberry (a town in Arizona...NOT a shortcake) for breakfast to celebrate. Although I don't ride a Harley, Suds doesn't mind and invited me anyway. With Ski still in Vegas, I was down for another ride!
I showed up at his place at 8:30 this morning on the Helix. I decided to ride the Helix so I could at least pretend to keep up. Turns out, I kept up just fine! Just one other couple showed up to ride with us, so the group was small. A cup of coffee and some gas and we were GONE!! Eastward on Hwy 260 we went, through Cottonwood, past the jail where I work, over I-17 and through Camp Verde we went. I stayed at the rear, enjoying the song of the open-piped V-twins ahead of me. We climbed the infamous "goat-trail" to the top of the rim (the Mogollon Rim...a major landmark in Arizona) where the road flattened out. Climbing the goat-trail, I occasionally slowed to as low as 55 mph, but for the most part, we cruised at over 60 most of the way. After the road flattened out on top, we touched 80 a time or two. Traversing the rim is a spectacular ride! Open mountain meadows on either side of the road break up against big Ponderosa Pines and scrub oak on the far side, then to the south the land just disappears only to appear again about 30 miles away in the form of evergreen-covered hills and mountains that slowly fade on the horizon. If you didn't know, you'd never guess from the view that those mountains, just beyond the horizon slope down into the Salt River Valley where lies the great sticker patch known as Phoenix...in the Valley of the Sunstroke.
The temperature had dropped a good 10 - 15 degrees up there on the top of the rim and the crisp air felt SO good. Melissa and Marina, however, were considering jackets about that time. Eric, Suds and I thought it could get no better. Eventually, the meadows gave way to closely packed pines known as black timber. The cool air and the smell of the evergreens took me back to my home state of Colorado where I grew up at over 8000 foot elevation. I was home.
Hwy 260 ended, just as it always does, at the north-south Hwy 87. We headed south the 8 or 10 miles to Stawberry where we parked at the cafe for breakfast. Just as I finished up my spanish omelet, the waitress brought a banana chimichanga topped with chocolate sauce and vanilla ice cream and a candle. We all sang a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday" to Marina...and very badly, I might add...and dug in! Good stuff!!!
Suds was thinking he needed a beer, so we continued south another 3 or 4 miles to the town of Pine, where we stopped at a nice little bar so he could wet his whistle. Back on the bikes and on the road to home. We stopped at a pulloff on top of the rim once to relax a little...there was a tremendous headwind and it took a little muscle to deal with. We joked around a little, told a few lies, teased each other and just enjoyed each other's company. A nice little break. We let Eric lead the way down the goat-trail into Camp Verde since neither Suds nor I see any reason to let a set of corners slow us down, but Eric does. We casually cruised into town, through town, out of town and on into Cottonwood where I headed home and the others headed to a local bar for more whistle-wetting.
A little side-bar here. My girl, Hot Tomato, has had a dream of becoming an Animal Control officer down there in the Valley of the Sunstroke and she was recently called in for a second interview (good news). She had put me down as a reference and gave me the heads-up that they might call today, which is why I headed home at this time. Sure enough, there was a message on my phone from the officer down there so I returned his call and gave Hot Tomato a glowing review. All truth, though. Truth is, there is NO one I'd trust more were I to be caught in a foxhole in combat. I could rest assured that my back was covered as long as she could still draw a breath. Means a LOT to me. I told the Sergeant that. Two hours later H.T. called me. She got the job!! Good on you, girl. You make me proud.
I made my call to the Sergeant and rejoined Suds, Marina, Eric and Melissa at the watering-hole (on the Red Baron this time) for an afternoon of tomfoolery. Water fights, stories, plans for the next ride and just good comradery.
I'm sitting here at my keyboard tonight writing this and just realized...I still have another day and a half of my weekend left!! What will happen tomorrow?!?!?
So far it's one of the best weekends ever. Only thing missing is you. ...and the camera, of course...
C-ya...ride on!
--Keys
Friday, September 07, 2007
Time to get after it again...
I DID IT!!! I finally graduated from the Academy! And (to toot my own horn) with top honors as well! So, you might ask, WHAT does this have to do with my blog about SCOOTERS!!??!?!
Simple.
Now that I am out of the academy, I will be doing shift work. What this means is that I will be working Sunday and Monday nights from 7 p.m. to 7 a.m., Tuesday nights from 9 p.m. to 7 a.m. and Wednesday only 6 hours. THEN is the cool part...I get 3 1/2 days OFF!! In a row!!! Holy Scooting, Batman!
I will be able to tinker on my scooters (I've actually done a little of that recently) and a whole lot of riding! When I ride and tinker, I blog. That's just the way it works. So for those of you who read and enjoy my stories, I will now be able to add stuff on (hopefully) a regular basis.
Lookin' forward to it, my friends.
C-ya...ride on!
--Keys
Simple.
Now that I am out of the academy, I will be doing shift work. What this means is that I will be working Sunday and Monday nights from 7 p.m. to 7 a.m., Tuesday nights from 9 p.m. to 7 a.m. and Wednesday only 6 hours. THEN is the cool part...I get 3 1/2 days OFF!! In a row!!! Holy Scooting, Batman!
I will be able to tinker on my scooters (I've actually done a little of that recently) and a whole lot of riding! When I ride and tinker, I blog. That's just the way it works. So for those of you who read and enjoy my stories, I will now be able to add stuff on (hopefully) a regular basis.
Lookin' forward to it, my friends.
C-ya...ride on!
--Keys
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