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
