Friday, June 18, 2010
2nd Shot
I was just laying here in this hay wagon thinking. Well, Tommy Wilson, his daddy's place backs up to ours, told me that this year my teacher would be askin me to write down what I did for summer. He's a grade older than me and I guess he knows. I'm here cuz mama said this year I could go huntin'. Daddy said I should stay in the wagon with my .22 in case something came around and spooked the horse. Anyway, I was thinking, what can I write that anybody wants to hear. I did get that new .22 for my birthday this year, but who don't have one of those? And I did get to come this time, even though mama wasn't happy 'bout it. But here I am, laying here looking at the stars through the pine trees. It is a hot night and the air is thick. I hear Mr. Wilson make that sound, granpa said it is called a "rebel yell". He said it scared the pants off them yankee soldiers, but mama said it must not of scared them hardly enough. Them dogs sure answered him though. Granpa said his daddy was in a war where folks was fighting cuz some had blacks working for them for free and some folks didn't want that. Didn't make much sense to me and mama said it didn't make no sense to her neither. Travis was with them too. He finally came home from a war, somewhere called "ovasees". He talked 'bout it sometimes and said things I didn't understand. I asked why a boy would cry and daddy said to mind my own buisness and mama said it was ok and not to worry 'bout it. Mama cried when he left and cried when he came back. Dang, mama cried when my sister June left too. Daddy told her if she was gonna have a baby by that useless Delmar Howard, she could leave and never come back. I missed her, been gone a year or more. How was she gonna have a baby when they wasn't married anyway. James wuz huntin' too. When Tim died, daddy said he didn't have to go to school no more cuz he needed him to help at home. Those Wilson boys wuz there. Mama didn't like them though. She said that he raised way too much corn for them to use and said he musta been making whiskey. They didn't go to church and Tommy hardly ever came to school. Tommy did take me down to a still once and we tried some of that stuff. I never could see how someone would pay to have some of that to drink. We didn't have much money, daddy said we had enough, but we didn't go to a store for much anyway. Well, about all I did this summer was go to the stock pond and swim to cool off. Me and James went some and once I saw him kiss Tommy's sister and she ran off. Why he did that I won't ever know. That is some things I don't ever want to do. I'm glad I don't have to be a mama cuz they cry too much. And I don't ever want to go ovasees, cuz it made Travis act funny and I never want to kiss a girl cuz she ran off and it didn't look like fun anyhow. But I did get to come huntin this time even if I had to stay in the wagon while them dogs of Mr. Wilsons ran through the woods and hollered and everybody chased them around all night. But I still don't know what to write about.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
"Adventure Bob's" last ride.
They say you never forget your first time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've been told, everybody dies, but not everybody lives.
He earned his silver dolphins back in the early '50's. After serving in the Korean Conflict he went to college. He graduated in 1959 with a degree in petroleum and natural gas engineering. In 1975, he started Natural Gas Operations Co., dealing with local, independent natural gas producers.
At the age of 68, his love of motorcycles led him to start Adventure Motorsports. His knowledge of history helped him to lead several motorcycle expeditions across the old west. He explored the Oregon Trail from Missouri to Oregon. His travels included the Lewis and Clark Trail, some old stagecoach routes and the area surrounding Judge Roy Bean's saloon. He also covered the route from the book "Lonesome Dove" and the "Black Hills" and the site of Custer's Last Stand, along with Utah's Monument Valley.
Knowing this, I was not surprised when I heard "Chief" exclaim, "No way Bob's riding in a cage today!"
We lined up in a staggered formation, with Bob riding with "Chief" on the trike. Not a large group, 22 bikes plus the trike, and even had a 14 year old on a 250cc. Hey it's 50 miles, if he wants to ride, well, nobody objected. We left out from downtown Duncan with Officer Riley leading the way, lights flashing and sirens at all the crossroads, with another of Duncan's finest ahead blocking traffic for us. Out to the highway and north all the way through Duncan to the city limit sign, where an officer from Marlow took over and led the way into and through town out to the Grady County Line. And thanks to Grady County and to the Rush Springs City Police Department, we made it fine........ without you........again. Jay took over point position and you could tell, with the "Chief" organizing and Jay out front, it was going to be fine. We left highway 81 north and headed west on highway 17. Going out across the western part of Grady County, the long sweeping curves and lightly rolling hills. There had been some mention of rain, but it was said that "Bob, would've said, hey, suck it up and let's ride." But the motorcycle gods were with us this day, the sun out warm and bright, the beautiful blue sky with those huge cotton candy clouds. Boy, Bob sure had a great day to ride.
Out of Grady County into the flatter Comanche County, turning golden with the summer sun. Going through Sterling, the lone officer there was noticed in his car, switching the phone to his other ear. I suppose we made too much noise going through town. Further west as we approached Elgin, we were passed by a police cruiser headed eastward, but a few minutes later, here he came, lights flashing, siren wailing. Great, a collective thought, we are all going to be pulled over. Not so, it was an Elgin cruiser headed to relieve Jay at the front. He lead us into and through Elgin and out to the Fort Sill National Cemetery. Where, at the last turn, he pulled the car out blocking east bound traffic and pulled his hat over his heart as we rode by. Now, once inside we rode around what used to be a gently rolling field that was faced to the west by the old Wichita Mountains and the new windfarm.
We had maybe a dozen people with flags surrounding the small pavilion. Everyone watched intently and reverently as the Navy Honor Guard unfolded the flag and Taps was played. If that doesn't touch you, you are the one that's dead. And when the Honor Guard refolded the flag and presented it to the widow, "from the United States Navy in appreciation for his honorable service to his country." Well.... that'll get you too.
It was my first mission, as they call them, with my new friends, the Patriot Guard Riders. It won't be my last. I don't really think it was Bob's last either. Something inside tells me, he is riding hard and fast, in territory more beautiful than we did today. He has shared handshakes and hugs with his old unit and with family and friends that have gone on before. And now has the rest of eternity to follow his passions.
Yea, that's heaven.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've been told, everybody dies, but not everybody lives.
He earned his silver dolphins back in the early '50's. After serving in the Korean Conflict he went to college. He graduated in 1959 with a degree in petroleum and natural gas engineering. In 1975, he started Natural Gas Operations Co., dealing with local, independent natural gas producers.
At the age of 68, his love of motorcycles led him to start Adventure Motorsports. His knowledge of history helped him to lead several motorcycle expeditions across the old west. He explored the Oregon Trail from Missouri to Oregon. His travels included the Lewis and Clark Trail, some old stagecoach routes and the area surrounding Judge Roy Bean's saloon. He also covered the route from the book "Lonesome Dove" and the "Black Hills" and the site of Custer's Last Stand, along with Utah's Monument Valley.
Knowing this, I was not surprised when I heard "Chief" exclaim, "No way Bob's riding in a cage today!"
We lined up in a staggered formation, with Bob riding with "Chief" on the trike. Not a large group, 22 bikes plus the trike, and even had a 14 year old on a 250cc. Hey it's 50 miles, if he wants to ride, well, nobody objected. We left out from downtown Duncan with Officer Riley leading the way, lights flashing and sirens at all the crossroads, with another of Duncan's finest ahead blocking traffic for us. Out to the highway and north all the way through Duncan to the city limit sign, where an officer from Marlow took over and led the way into and through town out to the Grady County Line. And thanks to Grady County and to the Rush Springs City Police Department, we made it fine........ without you........again. Jay took over point position and you could tell, with the "Chief" organizing and Jay out front, it was going to be fine. We left highway 81 north and headed west on highway 17. Going out across the western part of Grady County, the long sweeping curves and lightly rolling hills. There had been some mention of rain, but it was said that "Bob, would've said, hey, suck it up and let's ride." But the motorcycle gods were with us this day, the sun out warm and bright, the beautiful blue sky with those huge cotton candy clouds. Boy, Bob sure had a great day to ride.
Out of Grady County into the flatter Comanche County, turning golden with the summer sun. Going through Sterling, the lone officer there was noticed in his car, switching the phone to his other ear. I suppose we made too much noise going through town. Further west as we approached Elgin, we were passed by a police cruiser headed eastward, but a few minutes later, here he came, lights flashing, siren wailing. Great, a collective thought, we are all going to be pulled over. Not so, it was an Elgin cruiser headed to relieve Jay at the front. He lead us into and through Elgin and out to the Fort Sill National Cemetery. Where, at the last turn, he pulled the car out blocking east bound traffic and pulled his hat over his heart as we rode by. Now, once inside we rode around what used to be a gently rolling field that was faced to the west by the old Wichita Mountains and the new windfarm.
We had maybe a dozen people with flags surrounding the small pavilion. Everyone watched intently and reverently as the Navy Honor Guard unfolded the flag and Taps was played. If that doesn't touch you, you are the one that's dead. And when the Honor Guard refolded the flag and presented it to the widow, "from the United States Navy in appreciation for his honorable service to his country." Well.... that'll get you too.
It was my first mission, as they call them, with my new friends, the Patriot Guard Riders. It won't be my last. I don't really think it was Bob's last either. Something inside tells me, he is riding hard and fast, in territory more beautiful than we did today. He has shared handshakes and hugs with his old unit and with family and friends that have gone on before. And now has the rest of eternity to follow his passions.
Yea, that's heaven.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Wild Hog Report
Mom's Run 2010 Edition
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You know how to eat an elephant right? One bite at a time.
This one was a bit of a challenge. Last Saturday, I got up at 4 am, had breakfast, like I do before work. Only this day I was not going to work, I was going to take my 2nd annual "Mom's Run." This time to Winslow, AZ. I wanted to have my picture taken in front of a sign that really says, "Standing on a corner in Winslow, AZ". Just like in the Eagles' song.
I left out at 5 am, heading west toward Lawton and by the time the sun came up I was looking over at the beauty of the Wichita Mountains. Shortly after that I smelled the heavy, sweet perfume of the almost endless wheat fields of western Oklahoma. Nice start, purple mountains majesty and the amber waves of grain. I know why I live here and can't understand why others don't.
Out on this two-lane, you cross over into the craggy, rugged landscape that is northern Texas. Soon though you discover the huge expanse that is the Salt Creek Ranch. Forget the Ponderosa, and Southfork, this thing is something to behold. A pair of the biggest houses I've ever seen, anchoring a compound that would likely make J.R. feel envious.
Moving on north toward Amarillo, once again, the massive ranches and farms and more cattle than I've ever seen before. One of the few big towns seen on this trip was Amarillo, TX. It has what you'd expect for a city including the National Quarter Horse Museum. It's in Texas, so it has to be huge and I made a mental note that I'd like to return some day and visit. Somewhere west of Amarillo, I caught another familiar smell, stockyard. That's all I will say about that.
I had bought gas in Memphis.........Texas and I was wanting to stretch it out a bit, because of the time, so I went through Amarillo and ended up nervously hoping Tucumcari wasn't all that far. I do carry a one gallon gas can with me, full, in case, but.......
Anyway, I found out that it takes about 4.7 gallons of gas in my motorcycle to go from Memphis, TX. to Tucumcari, AZ. In a 5 gallon tank. That is part of the reason for these trips, pushing.
Once in New Mexico, the terrain changes dramatically. It reminded me much of Montana, but the colors are very different. I've never seen so much color. How can the earth, have so much color. It was difficult at times to keep my eyes on the road for stretching my neck to follow the lines of the surrounding hills. So tall and magnificent. I was spellbound by the fact that these mountains had been here, much like they are now, long before humans had been created. And they will be here long after. Beautiful little towns spring up and go by. Through Santa Rosa and into Moriarty, where the Memorial Of Perpetual Tears is right there on the side of the interstate. It is a memorial to those killed in the U.S. each year by drunk drivers. Check out their website, and if possible, I would encourage you to make a donation. Then onto the other "big" town, Albuquerque. Just before entering into Albuquerque, I noticed a woman, placing flowers around a small white cross on the side of the road. Not sure why I mention it, thought it was pertinent. Albuquerque blew me away, it is so pretty and clean for a city of it's size. All along this trip I was mesmerized by the beauty that is New Mexico. As I looked around, I felt like a hillbilly on his first trip to the big city. I spent most of my time looking up, buttes, mesas, mountains, whatever, I just couldn't believe what I was seeing. Not a movie or a picture, real! Sound like that hillbilly, huh?
After going through Albuquerque, it got tedious. I was starting to feel that wall coming up. The fatigue, soreness starting to settle in on me. My enthusiasm was waning, it seemed that Gallup would never appear and I had to get by there and on into Arizona. By the time I crossed the divide, which is not as dramatic as it is to the north, I was becoming anxious and maybe a bit depressed. My timing was off and I couldn't understand why. I was behind schedule. All that was adding up to a ride that was becoming a beating. Questions, will I make it, when can I rest, and others popped up causing the inside of my head to spin. Once I did get into Arizona, I stopped for fuel and called my Cat to talk a bit while I rested and finally ate a sandwich. I was in Sanders, AZ, still had about 100 miles to go and I was over my planned time schedule. I made the decision to stop and make Holbrook my turn around point. It's in the rules, if decision making becomes difficult, it's time to chill. I hated the fact that I was going to turn around before I made my goal. I did have the time and the mileage to qualify the run, but man, so close, but so far away. Once I decided to turn around, all of a sudden, I felt better. I began to feel excited again and the anxiety and depression lifted. Wise choice. I ran into the Dollar General in Holbrook and bought a $1 bandanna so I'd have a receipt with a date and time stamp and headed for home. On the way back, I found myself wondering about the power of those mountains. Was that what caused my anquish, leaving an area so full of magic? To me, those hills I imagined to be there to launch angels into Heaven. And I rode on and on. I did stop for a bit and took a couple of pictures of the sun setting on Laguna. Since my enthusiasm had returned, I discovered that not only was Albuquerque pretty during the day, but downright gorgeous at night. The way they use pottery to decorate the side of the interstate during the day, they use lights inside the pottery to show the way at night. Breathtaking, I have to go back for a vacation someday. I did finally check into the ironbutt motel after some 20 hours in the saddle and with 1138 miles behind me. After about 2 hours, some truck driver who didn't think I should be in the overnight parking for trucks helped me decide to move on toward home. Don't need all that. That was in Santa Rosa. Down the road a bit more, to the west of Amarillo, I rested again. As I have stated before, the sun rising has a narcotic effect almost. It fills you with spirit and strength, so when it came up about 1 1/2 hours after I checked back in to the motel, I was on the road, glad that I was obviously going to make it. I had talked all along to mom, she didn't answer the questions I asked about if she had been to New Mexico and seen all this, but I'm thinking she enjoyed the ride anyway. I was still 5 to 6 hours from home, not that the time went by so quickly, but I was on the back side and once again, I was to return home safely and none the worse for wear. It was an experience and I'm glad I did it and even though it was a bit rough at times, it was worth it. Next year, hmmm, a hint, maybe hog mecca. Thanks for riding with me. And thanks for the company ma.
As a postscript, I should add. A friend of mine passed away during my trip. He was a friend to me longer than anyone else I ever called a friend. He was a stand up guy and I'm sure a very good Marine. Ride on brother, yes I called you brother even though you never liked that and rest easy Marine, your service in Hell is over.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You know how to eat an elephant right? One bite at a time.
This one was a bit of a challenge. Last Saturday, I got up at 4 am, had breakfast, like I do before work. Only this day I was not going to work, I was going to take my 2nd annual "Mom's Run." This time to Winslow, AZ. I wanted to have my picture taken in front of a sign that really says, "Standing on a corner in Winslow, AZ". Just like in the Eagles' song.
I left out at 5 am, heading west toward Lawton and by the time the sun came up I was looking over at the beauty of the Wichita Mountains. Shortly after that I smelled the heavy, sweet perfume of the almost endless wheat fields of western Oklahoma. Nice start, purple mountains majesty and the amber waves of grain. I know why I live here and can't understand why others don't.
Out on this two-lane, you cross over into the craggy, rugged landscape that is northern Texas. Soon though you discover the huge expanse that is the Salt Creek Ranch. Forget the Ponderosa, and Southfork, this thing is something to behold. A pair of the biggest houses I've ever seen, anchoring a compound that would likely make J.R. feel envious.
Moving on north toward Amarillo, once again, the massive ranches and farms and more cattle than I've ever seen before. One of the few big towns seen on this trip was Amarillo, TX. It has what you'd expect for a city including the National Quarter Horse Museum. It's in Texas, so it has to be huge and I made a mental note that I'd like to return some day and visit. Somewhere west of Amarillo, I caught another familiar smell, stockyard. That's all I will say about that.
I had bought gas in Memphis.........Texas and I was wanting to stretch it out a bit, because of the time, so I went through Amarillo and ended up nervously hoping Tucumcari wasn't all that far. I do carry a one gallon gas can with me, full, in case, but.......
Anyway, I found out that it takes about 4.7 gallons of gas in my motorcycle to go from Memphis, TX. to Tucumcari, AZ. In a 5 gallon tank. That is part of the reason for these trips, pushing.
Once in New Mexico, the terrain changes dramatically. It reminded me much of Montana, but the colors are very different. I've never seen so much color. How can the earth, have so much color. It was difficult at times to keep my eyes on the road for stretching my neck to follow the lines of the surrounding hills. So tall and magnificent. I was spellbound by the fact that these mountains had been here, much like they are now, long before humans had been created. And they will be here long after. Beautiful little towns spring up and go by. Through Santa Rosa and into Moriarty, where the Memorial Of Perpetual Tears is right there on the side of the interstate. It is a memorial to those killed in the U.S. each year by drunk drivers. Check out their website, and if possible, I would encourage you to make a donation. Then onto the other "big" town, Albuquerque. Just before entering into Albuquerque, I noticed a woman, placing flowers around a small white cross on the side of the road. Not sure why I mention it, thought it was pertinent. Albuquerque blew me away, it is so pretty and clean for a city of it's size. All along this trip I was mesmerized by the beauty that is New Mexico. As I looked around, I felt like a hillbilly on his first trip to the big city. I spent most of my time looking up, buttes, mesas, mountains, whatever, I just couldn't believe what I was seeing. Not a movie or a picture, real! Sound like that hillbilly, huh?
After going through Albuquerque, it got tedious. I was starting to feel that wall coming up. The fatigue, soreness starting to settle in on me. My enthusiasm was waning, it seemed that Gallup would never appear and I had to get by there and on into Arizona. By the time I crossed the divide, which is not as dramatic as it is to the north, I was becoming anxious and maybe a bit depressed. My timing was off and I couldn't understand why. I was behind schedule. All that was adding up to a ride that was becoming a beating. Questions, will I make it, when can I rest, and others popped up causing the inside of my head to spin. Once I did get into Arizona, I stopped for fuel and called my Cat to talk a bit while I rested and finally ate a sandwich. I was in Sanders, AZ, still had about 100 miles to go and I was over my planned time schedule. I made the decision to stop and make Holbrook my turn around point. It's in the rules, if decision making becomes difficult, it's time to chill. I hated the fact that I was going to turn around before I made my goal. I did have the time and the mileage to qualify the run, but man, so close, but so far away. Once I decided to turn around, all of a sudden, I felt better. I began to feel excited again and the anxiety and depression lifted. Wise choice. I ran into the Dollar General in Holbrook and bought a $1 bandanna so I'd have a receipt with a date and time stamp and headed for home. On the way back, I found myself wondering about the power of those mountains. Was that what caused my anquish, leaving an area so full of magic? To me, those hills I imagined to be there to launch angels into Heaven. And I rode on and on. I did stop for a bit and took a couple of pictures of the sun setting on Laguna. Since my enthusiasm had returned, I discovered that not only was Albuquerque pretty during the day, but downright gorgeous at night. The way they use pottery to decorate the side of the interstate during the day, they use lights inside the pottery to show the way at night. Breathtaking, I have to go back for a vacation someday. I did finally check into the ironbutt motel after some 20 hours in the saddle and with 1138 miles behind me. After about 2 hours, some truck driver who didn't think I should be in the overnight parking for trucks helped me decide to move on toward home. Don't need all that. That was in Santa Rosa. Down the road a bit more, to the west of Amarillo, I rested again. As I have stated before, the sun rising has a narcotic effect almost. It fills you with spirit and strength, so when it came up about 1 1/2 hours after I checked back in to the motel, I was on the road, glad that I was obviously going to make it. I had talked all along to mom, she didn't answer the questions I asked about if she had been to New Mexico and seen all this, but I'm thinking she enjoyed the ride anyway. I was still 5 to 6 hours from home, not that the time went by so quickly, but I was on the back side and once again, I was to return home safely and none the worse for wear. It was an experience and I'm glad I did it and even though it was a bit rough at times, it was worth it. Next year, hmmm, a hint, maybe hog mecca. Thanks for riding with me. And thanks for the company ma.
As a postscript, I should add. A friend of mine passed away during my trip. He was a friend to me longer than anyone else I ever called a friend. He was a stand up guy and I'm sure a very good Marine. Ride on brother, yes I called you brother even though you never liked that and rest easy Marine, your service in Hell is over.
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