Scooter Time Machine

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