Sunday, Funday, except I spent it broke down on the side of the road.

I have often wondered when something goes way wrong was it something I missed in my maitaince routine, or was it what I will call just my time to spend it on the side of the road.  This past Sunday was just that for me, while I had the old 66 on the lift only a few weeks ago going through her maintaince, I cannot recall checking the chain more to check how much play is in the chain itself.  But this is more a story of regular maintains on any antique bike is not routine  at all.

This story start with a fun leisure antique motorcycle ride that was not meant to be.  The game plan was 3 of the old bikes, Wooly, TJ and myself was going to ride the back roads to a benefit ride.  We had bikes pulled out, spot checked for loose chains , oil, tools, always need tools and then proceed to load my old 66 hard bags with tools and  2 waters  and 2 gatorades in a cooler (just in case).

We left the house on time to make the easy ride to where this benefit ride was to start.  We decided because we were riding old bikes and that these bikes would be doing 55 to 65 mph.  We would ride north on an old 4 lane just to not be such a burden on the faster highway , or to block faster traffic on a two lane road.  So off we go on a north route and just south of Leavenworth Kansas we would take one of my favorite cross overs to the faster 435 to loop a few miles north and then head back off the faster lanes.  While all this would have been fun no one thought to check what was flooded (almost everything that flooded in 1993) and  a lot of the West to east roads was closed just because of flooding.  Needless to say, the road I love was closed because of flooding.  So 180 turn and some back tracking to get to where we could cross over to435.

Everything was going fine, I was letting the old 47 set the pace for this ride. And she was running like a champ, missing a pop once in a while but nothing to be conserened about.   When I heard a sound that I thought OH FUCK instantly.  The sound was loud, it was under me like something bad just happened to my engine and I suddenly had no power, the engine was still going but I had no power.  My first thought was, I blew  a cinyninder (I don't know what made me think that but it was my first thought). After coasting to the side of the road, a spot that turned out to be a place I am going to describe as "If I had to break down this would not be a bad place to break down spot".   The road at this place in the road opened up from a two lane to a four lane split, a small excess spot even father out of the flow of traffic.  Hell it would have been a great spot if it had a shade tree.

 When everything goes south instantly one always thinks fast on their feet so to speak.  My game ace in the hole is AAA RV Plus.  Which allows me an  enclosed trailer cost me nothing for 100 miles and I was 40 from home?  Total time it would have taken is hour and a half.  I could have been home the guys could have made the show after words.   But boys are I am going to say stubborn, they had to fix it right there on the side of the road,  the enclosed trailer was not even considered,

Now it is a matter of finding a master link for the chain, loosing the chain and back wheel so we have enough play to put the chain back on. So off comes my hard bags, off comes the chain guard and the rear axle is loosened, the chain adjustment is loosing and I am almost sure we had to loosen something else but then every thing seems more intense when you are doing work on the side of the road.    We were striking out when all of a sudden a big guy named Jim came to help.  He was on his way to church and dropped his wife off and came back to help.  Jim was one of two aces that made this road side repair possible.  Jim kick the back tire forward so we could get the chain wrapped back around.  And shortly after we got all that figured out a friends daughter and son in law came with a master link. They were only 10 miles from where I was broke down but you try to get parts delivered to the side of the road, few are going to have the part a fewer are going to send it to you.

Finally she was running, chain was turning round and round, and I was heading home  to do everything I just did one the side of the road in the comfort of my own garage.  But instead of just the chain the sprocket snapped some rivets and was loose on the wheel, so more money more repairs.

All and all though I have to say it could have been worse, much worse.  Someone ask me how and I said, it could have been raining.  I could have broke down on a two lane with no where to get out of the way.  I could not have found the chain on the road.  I could not have found a master link and still had to get towed home.   It can always be worse so even though my ride turned out to be a repair on the side of the road, I am grateful for the two aces in the hole that got me home.  The three guys who helped repair my bike and the delivery on the side of the road.  I don't know if there is a number of how many times a biker is going to be broke down on the side of the road but mine moved down one more  slot.

Death and Cancer Suck!

I keep a lot to myself because I have always thought of this place as a happy place.  Somewhere where I can go and laugh, learn and enjoy life.   The last month I have spent holding my best friends hand while she died, not an easy thing to see, nor deal with on a personal level.  I am not stupid I know that the contract of breathing ends with the last breath and no one knows when or where that breath is taken.  That some of us will draw the shit hand in the gamble of life.  It is never easy to say goodbye to a loved one, it was not easy to watch someone I love pass, to watch as the cancer eat her alive (literally).  When this started I thought cancer is no big deal people live through it all the time.  But my Jules, well had to have other things that made her fight very hard.  I stood by her side for all this time, hoping for miracles, I think I even try to barter with God.  (One of the stages of grief) 

I am so glad that I got to go hold her hand and say my good byes face to face, many people don't get that kind of chance.  Some time ago  her  kidneys started failing I tried to give her one of mine.  She told me that it was a long time solution to a very short term problem and would not even take the test to see if we were a match.  At the time I was mad because she denied me helping her, so I was stuck with guilt, denial and anger that I was helpless to help someone I love.  (Helplessness is something I don't do well).

She passed a few days ago and like a lot of people grieving I am pissed! I know that I could never barter her healthy I tried believe me.  In the end all I could do was hold her hand and hope that death would come soon as to somehow compensate for all her pain.   My birthday wish was actually for her to go fast to be out of the pain.  (terrible wish in a lot of ways but had you seen what she was going through maybe you would understand).

So if there is a beach in heaven I know my Jules is there, kicking sand up, walking bare foot and enjoying a margarita.  

My Weekend with the Motor Maids

They say the best-laid plans are of mice and men… You notice women are not in that saying.  WHY? Well, at least for our weekend adventure as a group, plans went well.   We were to meet Friday afternoon, well it started off morning but things do change. Any way we were all  going to ride as a group down to the Lake of the Ozark's.   This went almost flawless and we arrived at our destination in plenty of time to relax, delight in each other’s company and have a nice dinner. We talked and laughed and share stories till early in the morning.  I will say as a  group we  sure have survived a lot of strange, scary and funny motorcycle adventures, survived being a key word.  

The next morning we all gathered on the screened in porch to enjoy the beautiful views of the lake while having coffee and discussing future rides and events we would all like to do as a group, besides convention. So even though our district director could not make it (sorry Brenda) we got most if not all of the business at hand accomplish.

Finally we were off to do things all Motor Maids love, riding and shopping.    First we rode down to The Lake of the Ozark's Harley Davidson, upon arrival we were greeted with a very energetic sales lady that was excited to meet some Motor Maids.  Also she told us she was interested in becoming a Motor Maid.  We talked for a while about riding and she seemed to be truly interested so we told her how to get ahold of the Missouri chapter and hope we would see her next year.

 And finally off for some great riding in the scenic back roads at the Lake of the Ozark's  what a blast we had doing that. This time of the year there was little traffic.  The roads were filled with hills, sweeps and curves,  and with the temperatures only hitting low 80’s it was just an enjoyable ride.  Along the road we came upon  many dead animals of raccoons and fox and armadillo and live animals of wild turkey and deer  that was in our direct path.  Although nothing bad happened it did make some of our hearts skip a beat or two. Mine especially as I was leading these women and was first to come upon them.  When arriving  back at the lake house one of the neighbors had some fish they had caught. As some of the ladies in our group commented about how they never eaten a lot of fish.  The very generous neighbor fried us up a plate of fresh caught fish to munch on while we were cooking dinner. 

The next morning it was pack up the bikes ride into town where we enjoyed a nice meal at a small local breakfast place and more stories before heading home. At one of the stop on our way back home we meet a gentle man who  we talked to and we soon found out  he is a musician that had played with some very famous people and popular bands, WOW! We stopped at a great little place for a photo and tried to wave someone down to take a picture of all of us together.  The first car was two older men and they must have thought we were crazy as they rolled up their windows and drove on the wrong side of the road to get father away from us.  We laughed about it  but soon another vehicle came and a very nice young lady hopped out to take our picture.  

  I for one cannot wait for our next ride so we can enjoy reliving what fun we had as a group and share our new stories of motorcycling.  

Trip For Mark Pennison Funeral

Started on Wednesday  we was suppose to leave our house @8 am but did not get out until 930. Our first stop was at the Quick Trip right up the street. We fueled up and took off down the road. At 17 miles in to the trip we had to stop and put on rain gear we didn't hit our window of opportunity this morning.

After suiting up in the rain gear we ran a 110 more miles where we had to stop to go pee . We topped off the gas tanks, and 34 miles after that we went from 64 to 89 so we had to stop to peel off the rain gear. We packed up rain gear and I went to hit the button and the Squaw but she did not start. You could here the computer all come to life but when you hit the button to start the engine she would just click.

I called Heritage Indian in Roger's Arkansas. Johnny the service manager talked a few minutes to me saying it was either battery or starter solenoid. And told me how to get her going no matter which one it was. Wooly had rode up the street to an auto part store to get a jumper box, and when he got back that got her going. When I talked to Johnny I asked if he had both parts in stock, he had checked and did. So we back track off our route 90 miles and rode straight to there .

Before finishing paying my bill the service tech ask if I could wait a minute he wanted to talk to Indian

about a concern he had about my bike. He asked
if I could hang around he wanted to look at some connections, of course I said yes as I want my
bike running right. Come to find out that either the alternator or regulator was starting to go bad. So he said the Squaw should make it there and back with no problems. He was to order in both parts and have them ready for my return trip.

We made it to Fort Smith Arkansas that day not very far at all. But by the time we got there it was 8 pm and I needed food also the sky was filling with lighting. I figured hell tomorrow is another day. So we stop and eat dinner at Logan's steakhouse, and got a room at the Hilton inn right behind it. The check in girl Amber, let us park our bikes under the portecochere. We only did 305 miles on day one bit we had budgeted into our time 2 and a half days and tomorrow was another day.


Day two's starts in Fort Smith Arkansas. It starts off with meeting some riders from Mexico headed to Harley's 115th anniversary party in Milwaukee. After starting my menstrual cycle. Something that had not happened in 11 months. I found myself in the middle of the night getting up to go buy tampons I was not happy and thought God really does hate women. About 7 I get breakfast and coffee and loaded up bikes and headed out around A8:30.

Our 1st stop was in Mena Arkansas to fuel. It was about 80 miles into South 71 which is a beautiful road we've done many times. Nice and cool and just a little bit of fog raising up when we started off this day. I knew to enjoyed it because I know it would not last long. I was right by the time we  gassed up the bikes  it was almost triple digits. 

I wanted to stop in Texarkana for lunch but I never found a subway so we keep heading south on 71. In Fouke we stop for a Icee, it was refreshing but not really a good choice for the weather. Water or Gatorade would and should have been the only smart choice anyway after that we hit the super slap of 49 south.

We ran hot and heavy until we stopped in Shreveport
for a sandwich and to fill up. We keep be lining through Alexandria . This is where we hit a a nice shower what the Cajuns call a gully washer (A quick, very quick downpour). We did not even stop to put on rain
gear. The temperature drop from 99 to 84 what a relief. That did not last but a few minutes and then back to Tabasco ( hot and humid) the only stops from there was, Lafayette and Morgan City and that was basically stopping for gas and pee breaks only until we

made it to Fuzz's house.

I did get  us some what lost in Houma, I took it as a
sign we had been gone way to long from the bayous .  I went across the bayous and down instead of down and across.  Total 602 miles rain and triple digits. At one time I thought my mom was going to do a flop and drop from the heat. She has a very hard time with heat after her heart attack. We arrived safe and hungry but étouffée was ready and I was starved. I had not even unpacked when I smelled the food and wounder up to the kitchen. Had scarfed down a piece of garlic bread before I even found a plate. We spent the rest of the night catching up drinking and eating.
I unpacked most the bike talked till midnight took a shower and finally went to bed.


Friday day 3 and 4 
You Cant Go Houma

Started with no coffee, no Prices grocery store , no New Gene up and fishing to get coffee from, things have changed shuttle things that made me sad.
After finally getting coffee talking on the back porch and something to eat. I made some phone calls, answered some e email and got drove to town to take to care of some business. The rain had finally taking hold and we could ride the bikes and get soaked or ride in the truck and bullshit some more, we choose the truck.

Had lunch with some friends @ big Mike's smokehouse. Grab some groceries and liquor in Bourge went back down the bayous to the house to do some catching up with friends we had not seen in way to long.

It is strange not to have New Gene and Mark telling tall tales usually beer in hand and the laughter of stories only growing louder. Believe me those two would have anyone rolling in the isles. Both are now deceased and both our either entertaining the Angel's or scaring the hell out of the devil.

Actually looking back on the last couple of days this trip was more like a family reunion then a funeral but the Cajuns are that way with life and death. It is always about the good times never about the bad.
I am calling this section of the trip "you cant go Houma ( pronounced home a) but in reality you can always go home you just cant expect Houma to stay the same. I am sure it is that way for anything and anywhere in life. Case and point Prices was a little grocery store right on the other side of the bayou. People actually came down the bayou to buy the head cheese or get one of their po- boy sandwiches and believe me Cajuns always celebrate with food so for people to purposely come down the bayou to grab food is a honor. Anyway they burned down a few years ago and the owners being in their elderly years decided to retire rather then rebuild. No trip down here was ever without me getting a pound of head cheese that usually Peanut had to stash for me and club crackers and calling that and a few strong drinks dinner.

Some if not all of the Cajuns look exactly how I remember like time almost stands still here. But when

you look around at the landmarks, the homes, the boats even here time marched on. Two piece of land that I had my eyes on for building on when I come back are now sold and one is developed with 4 houses on
it. The land always caught my attention because of the huge old oak and pecan trees. I could always see those tree lining up and down my drive way. With the Spanish most hanging down, branches stretching out to the heavens and the ground. Sad but like anything you snooze you loose.

As this was mom first trip here we took her down all the way to Grad Isle.  All the traffic was heading out preparing for Gordon but we were heading down.  We walked on the public beach and gathered some sea shells as mom had never been to the Gulf of Mexico.  Then we finished going down the road till there was no more road.  We watched as the helicopters was carrying in off shore guys at of the way of Gordon.  We watched as all the boats was going inland and hoping to cross to the levee side of the bayou for some kind of protection from the storm.  All but one, he like us guessed one more trip out might not be too bad.  We stopped at Artie's and had a bloody Mary and then headed back to Montegut. 

Getting ready for the return trip is bitter, nothing is sweet about it. There are people I barely got to hug at the funeral. I never got to sit and drink and catch up with or get to reminisce about days gone by. Hopefully next trip will be one of those trips where time has no play in plans.


The Sad Trip Home

The journey home stated with trying to outrun tropical storm/hurricane Gordon.
We left the bayous late in the afternoon  stopped  at Peanut the widower's house it was almost 5:30 before we hit the super slab to get us out of the bayou's. When we hit 90  west it started to sprinkle on us. I though funny me and the heavens are crying over leaving here.
The day before we left the bayous the flood gates were closed which left all rainfall just coming on what
was already saturated land. It was time to get the
hell out. We gave our love, give hugs we cried a
little with Peanut and we hit the super slab trying

to out run storms as fast as we could. We made it to Natchitoches Louisiana that evening.  A quaint little town we used to ride through and lot when we was working in Shrevoport. It has lots of history civil war and  a french settlement preserve and lots of Southern hospitality. Bill ran out of gas just as we turned off the highway, he coasted to the first gas station off the highway.  After getting fuel, Bill went and grabbed some dinner for us all.  I went and checked into a hotel.  We ate some food, grabbed a hot  shower  and went  to bed. 260 miles total but leaving the family sometimes you just got to take your out and go or you might not ever go.

Next morning we packed and headed north only this time taking the back roads instead of the super slab we took on the way down, after we got through Shreveport. First stop was Texarkana for gas. And then next  stop was a pee break. We ended up in Fort Smith for the evening at the same hotel we stayed at on the way down.

With time to kill before parts had came in we decided to take some really fun back roads. We took 59 north out of Fort Smith till 220 east. We weaved our way through this mountain forest parkway till 74 east. We keep going past the super slab till we came to a road crew that had the small road shut down. They told us to go east and it would wind us into 71 north. Well let's say this did not quit work out . We ended up turning around and running the super slab to Heritage Indian from there. When we hit Bentonville we also hit rain.

A block from Indian we hit a downpour it soaked us in that little of time. The parts came in shortly after I arrived.  The crew at Heritage really took good care of me and my bike.  They even offered me a bike to ride but I just waited it out as it was raining and I really had no desire to go get wetter.

After my bike was done and payment made we hit the super slab home. We did not even make it 10 miles before we was in rain again. Good thing we put on rain gear before we left Heritage. Anyway we made it home safe that evening,  only stopping for gas and pee breaks.  I am really sadden about leaving as I miss everyone before I even hit the state line, and to be honest I still wish I was down there. But reality calls and business waits for no one. 

Motor Maids in Weston MO.

As Any Motor Maid can tell you as there are three things that make all Motor Maids smile.  One and most important is our love for riding motorcycles.  Two: our lust in life and always having a good time. And last but not least our love for shopping.

Our monthly ride embodied all three of these requirements.

We had different groups that all meet and descended apon the small town of Weston Missouri.  A small historical town with unique history, unusual shops, great winery’s and some very different restaurants. 

We started with a small picture opportunity even before the entire gang was there.

Standing on the corner at Weston Mo.  From right to left

Cathy Fritts, Carolyn Lang, Brenda Glen, Gina Williams and Kathy Sanders

After hugs and photos off we go to spend some of our hard earned

 Money.  Weston has all kinds of shops where a girl could really have a great time especially with her other half’s credit card.  But being on motorcycles limits a person to what goodies they might buy.

After exercising great restraint on the shopping end we went to O’Malley’s Pub, a Scottish underground pub that is on the national trust for historical preservation, it is almost 60 feet underground.  Has been a brewery pub on and off since 1842.  First we went to the underground bar where it was a lot cooler then the hot and humid day we was playing in.  But after finding out that we would have to serve ourselves we decided that O’Malley’s Pub restaurant side was where we should be.  In attendance we had seven motor Maids, one a member from Florida that also has a residence in Kansas that joined us.   And last but not least three of the brave man that attempted to keep the public safe from us.

It was great to hear the stories of motorcycle mishaps, motorcycle rides and think about our future rides.  We ate and talked and laughed for hours and soon found that time was ticking away and some of us had other obligations to attend to.    All and all there was 8 members that made this monthly ride and 3 guests. 

Junes Ride With the Motor Maids

It is always an adventure.

Today we were supposed to get thunderstorms but looking at the radar I decided at best some rain.  My plan was to take my old 1966 FLH out to stretch her legs.  You know one of those 120 miles only stop once for gas and try to hit as many sweeps as I can rides.   Wooly still gets tired easier then he use to from all the cancer treatments but he still hangs with me on small day rides he just usually has to stop more often.  So when he said lets ride to Cassidy I was surprised and concern that the 300  to 400 mile day would be a little bit to much for him.   After him being insistent it was pull the Indian out and off we go, first stop was for me to get gas as I was on low fuel.  Wooly decided he could make the 126  mile trip and off we go to haul ass down the highway.
 
For anyone who reads this Cassidy is a breakfast run and usually done by noon 1 pm at the latest.  It is the first Sunday of every month in riding season.  Around  here they call riding season March through October.     So leaving the house at  almost 11 I knew we were not going to make the breakfast but instead would be grabbing lunch at the Hays House in Council Grove Kansas on our more scenic  route home.  The Hays House  is the place us and our friends usually stop and eat  lunch at besides vending food is really not what I like nor care to eat.

 Anyway we were running south down interstate 35 and we were hitting the throttle hard.
When  Wooly did not stop in Emporia Kansas to fuel I was taking back as that is almost always a must do fuel stop to make it to our destination.  Next gas is Cassidy 41   miles down the road.   Everything was fine till  he started for the slow lane, my first thought was YEA he has finally learned you never stay in the fast lane all the time, especially if you are not the fastest moving thing on the road.    But nope he was running out of gas, I seen him dipping his bike deep trying to splash some gas down the throat to fire her back up.  This  stunt worked twice and he got a little father south on the toll way but not far enough.  So I get to play the hero and ride the rest the miles to the gas station.   Buy a gas container and then go get a gallon of gas.  That was the most expensive gallon of gas, total $28.   After purchasing the gas I loaded it up on my  luggage rack on the back  of my Indian and slightly whispered to myself I hope I put my cargo net in the saddle bag.    I opened up the saddle bag and bingo there it was.

My next problem was now I got to get back to Wooly.  I cannot go the proper flow of traffic as there is no way to cross over to where he was.  There is solid concrete barriers all the way.  So what is a girl hero to do, ride the wrong direction down the emergency shoulder till I get back to him.  Let me tell you some of the looks I was getting was priceless,  strangers that saw this may still be talking about  what they say going down the interstate that day.

So gas in the tank I do a 360 on a toll road and off we go in the right direction to the gas station to fill up both bikes take a quick  pee break and off we go again for the 6 miles on the road before we exit the tollway.  At the toll stop Wooly and I are side by side when this very aggressive voice from no where starts ordering me around.  "You in the blue {I had on one of my Motor Maid shirts} back up your bike and you will go through one at a time". My first thought was DUH! But  I tell the voice that my mom has my ticket and my money and that I Will go through first not second, mom  sticks my ticket in and then my money, gate opens and off I go to the other side of the gate.  Then it comes Wooly's turn and same routine but when he goes to start his bike it would not start.  So I pull over to the emergency shoulder and run back to help him push his bike off the road way.  It took mom and I three times but we finally bump started the damn thing and off we go.  We think that the drain of running emergency light sitting on the  side of the toll way may have been to much drain for the bike and wondered how long the battery was in that bike.  (We still are looking for the receipt  but I think it is time to get another one.)

Anyway by the time we slow roll through the one block of Cassidy it is after 1 and most everyone is gone and the venders are starting to clean up.  We decide that we should head to Council Grove and grab some lunch, so without stopping we take off  up  highway 177 ( A scenic byway) to lunch.   We arrive in Council Grove  around 2 pm and park our bikes and go into the Hays house for lunch.  By this time I am hungry, really hungry.   We enjoy a nice lunch and when parting Wooly says lets B line home.  So instead of taking 177 north to 4 a fun survey scenic ride we head dead east on old 56.  A straight shot home.

 The  ride  home was boring for the most part but about 50 miles from home we roll up on 4 bikes.  Now following them just a little bit   it was obvious that they had been drinking.  They would speed up then slow  way down, hell they were not even doing the speed limit.  They were all over the lanes weaving around and then they were playing some weird game of hopscotch on bikes.  Anyway I did not want tangled up with this kind of riding so I signaled for  Wooly to get around them.  I was doing 90 when I passed the lead bike  and did not slow down till I could not see them in the side view mirror.  I keep thinking  A: I did not want involved in what could happen with such careless riding and B: I  did not want to be any where near these people if the cops seen this.  Anyway we made it home safe, Wooly did not tire out as he had been doing since the cancer treatments.  Which I am grateful for as I really do miss my  favorite riding buddy.