The day held promise of a fine afternoon ride.
I fueled up my new two gallon tank and prepared for a trip to who knows where.
I also loaded up the crate with a bunch of huge psychotic zombie squash, thinking that whomever I might come across was not getting away from me without unburdening myself of my dear wife's insane squash harvest.
Today would have been a perfect day to take along a cold six pack of beer, except that I have already made a promise to beer and all his friends, and that is this: I won't consume them if they don't consume me. So I made some iced tea and filled my industrial sized, insulated sippy cup with it. A 2 liter bottle of water was filled for Abby, who never goes anywhere without me.
Even though I told my wife that I had no idea where I was going, I secretly thought to myself that I might go visit my friend John.
John is a good guy, sings and plays guitar at the church, and is a hell of a GC.
He eats everything he shoots, and he shoots everything. He's also the GC for the huge church being built in the middle of nowhere.
The pastor says God told him to build it. Kinda like Noah and the Ark thing, but I don't believe anything was mentioned about cubits.
The thunderous roar of the mighty Baja came to life on the first pull. Abby bolted from the house damn near tearing off her doggie door. If anyone here knows anything about Jack Russell's, it's that they love to go for a ride. They don't necessarily care with whom or where, just as long as it's a ride, and they get to go. A big truck is just as good as a skiploader or car, but Abby prefers the Baja. She thinks it's hers.
I hoisted her up onto the newly rubber covered gas tank, and off we went for an adventure, and to smother some poor slob in zucchini.
The first thing we came across was some roaming range cattle, which are quite new to her, and deserved every bark she could muster.
Next, we came across the largest desert tortoise I have ever seen. he was seriously on his way to somewhere, using the middle of the road as his guide. He was almost as big around as a frisbee or a dinner plate, and I estimated his weight between 8 and 10 pounds.
It occurred to me how cool it would be to have a live desert tortoise living in our back gardens. I thought about loading him up and taking him home. Then I thought about how awful it might be living in a cell with some hairy smelly child molester named Bubba.
I left Mr Turtle to go on about his way.
The sun was shining, and I could feel its heat on the back of my neck, a little more than I probably would have liked, so I decided on a break under the shade of a good sized Junipine. Most of us call them Junipers, but my friend from S. Africa called them Junipines.
We both had a nice pee, and a cool drink, I decided to have a cigarette. Abby doesn't smoke yet, and I'm trying to keep her from it, but if anyone knows anything about Jacks, they know they could probably get one and light it up.
As we climbed higher, the roads got better. They are less traveled, and I guess the folks who use them respect them because they know the blademan doesn't come around very often. We cracked the throttle and took advantage of what almost seemed like smooth pavement. I could tell the bike was feeling the effects of the thinner air, and I think Abby was too because she was acting dumber and almost fell off twice.
I've clocked this trip before in the car. I can't remember if it's 11, 13, or 17 miles, but I know for sure it's over 10 because I've done it before, and also because my butt was starting to get tired and sore.
We turned down the 2 mile road that led to John's house, and it occurred to me he must not like his road a whole lot. It was rather bumpy and full of ruts from this summers rains. That's just about when Abby almost gobbled sand.
I putted up one hill and down the next hoping I remembered where his house was.
I kept on going and began to think that maybe I missed it, or picked the wrong road. I was now however far it is from my place to his, and I was determined to find it.
His green gate came into view, and it's always open, except for when it is closed. He only closes it when he goes back east to Boston for a visit.
Today his gate was closed which led me to only one conclusion, John was not home, and was in Boston.
I was sad not to be able to see him. I was sadder that I was still stuck with this 20 lbs of assorted squash with no one to bestow it upon.
Garrison Keillor once said, this is the time of the year to keep your cars and doors locked. For if you're away, you might come back to find either of them jam packed with people's unwanted squash.
We turned around and started to head back to whence we came. Up one hill and down the other, giving the bike a good throttle up each hill.
I was really enjoying the sound and the speed of each hill climb.
We climbed another hill and descended down the back side. When we got to the bottom, I gave it throttle to climb the next one. The engine went Varoom Zoom! But the bike didn't.
I gave it another. Varoom, varoom! and the bike glided to a standstill, with the engine still running.
At this point, I had no idea what was wrong, and my mind began to race. What am I going to do?
It was then I thankfully remembered the cell phone, it was also about that time I remembered there was no signal there.
I shut the bike off, and Abby jumped down just like she always does when I turn it off.
I sat there very quiet and still, and not believing this was happening. I rolled a cigarette, and lit it.
I thought of every possible scenario.
A walk home would be hideous. There's enough water, not quite enough tobacco, nor enough daylight left.
Maybe someone would come along, maybe someone wouldn't.
What would I do if they did?
A walk home, a drive back to get or fix the bike, and another drive home would make for a very long night.
Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion.
It should have read: who doesn't go anywhere without me.
I fueled up my new two gallon tank and prepared for a trip to who knows where.
I also loaded up the crate with a bunch of huge psychotic zombie squash, thinking that whomever I might come across was not getting away from me without unburdening myself of my dear wife's insane squash harvest.
Today would have been a perfect day to take along a cold six pack of beer, except that I have already made a promise to beer and all his friends, and that is this: I won't consume them if they don't consume me. So I made some iced tea and filled my industrial sized, insulated sippy cup with it. A 2 liter bottle of water was filled for Abby, who never goes anywhere without me.
Even though I told my wife that I had no idea where I was going, I secretly thought to myself that I might go visit my friend John.
John is a good guy, sings and plays guitar at the church, and is a hell of a GC.
He eats everything he shoots, and he shoots everything. He's also the GC for the huge church being built in the middle of nowhere.
The pastor says God told him to build it. Kinda like Noah and the Ark thing, but I don't believe anything was mentioned about cubits.
The thunderous roar of the mighty Baja came to life on the first pull. Abby bolted from the house damn near tearing off her doggie door. If anyone here knows anything about Jack Russell's, it's that they love to go for a ride. They don't necessarily care with whom or where, just as long as it's a ride, and they get to go. A big truck is just as good as a skiploader or car, but Abby prefers the Baja. She thinks it's hers.
I hoisted her up onto the newly rubber covered gas tank, and off we went for an adventure, and to smother some poor slob in zucchini.
The first thing we came across was some roaming range cattle, which are quite new to her, and deserved every bark she could muster.
Next, we came across the largest desert tortoise I have ever seen. he was seriously on his way to somewhere, using the middle of the road as his guide. He was almost as big around as a frisbee or a dinner plate, and I estimated his weight between 8 and 10 pounds.
It occurred to me how cool it would be to have a live desert tortoise living in our back gardens. I thought about loading him up and taking him home. Then I thought about how awful it might be living in a cell with some hairy smelly child molester named Bubba.
I left Mr Turtle to go on about his way.
The sun was shining, and I could feel its heat on the back of my neck, a little more than I probably would have liked, so I decided on a break under the shade of a good sized Junipine. Most of us call them Junipers, but my friend from S. Africa called them Junipines.
We both had a nice pee, and a cool drink, I decided to have a cigarette. Abby doesn't smoke yet, and I'm trying to keep her from it, but if anyone knows anything about Jacks, they know they could probably get one and light it up.
As we climbed higher, the roads got better. They are less traveled, and I guess the folks who use them respect them because they know the blademan doesn't come around very often. We cracked the throttle and took advantage of what almost seemed like smooth pavement. I could tell the bike was feeling the effects of the thinner air, and I think Abby was too because she was acting dumber and almost fell off twice.
I've clocked this trip before in the car. I can't remember if it's 11, 13, or 17 miles, but I know for sure it's over 10 because I've done it before, and also because my butt was starting to get tired and sore.
We turned down the 2 mile road that led to John's house, and it occurred to me he must not like his road a whole lot. It was rather bumpy and full of ruts from this summers rains. That's just about when Abby almost gobbled sand.
I putted up one hill and down the next hoping I remembered where his house was.
I kept on going and began to think that maybe I missed it, or picked the wrong road. I was now however far it is from my place to his, and I was determined to find it.
His green gate came into view, and it's always open, except for when it is closed. He only closes it when he goes back east to Boston for a visit.
Today his gate was closed which led me to only one conclusion, John was not home, and was in Boston.
I was sad not to be able to see him. I was sadder that I was still stuck with this 20 lbs of assorted squash with no one to bestow it upon.
Garrison Keillor once said, this is the time of the year to keep your cars and doors locked. For if you're away, you might come back to find either of them jam packed with people's unwanted squash.
We turned around and started to head back to whence we came. Up one hill and down the other, giving the bike a good throttle up each hill.
I was really enjoying the sound and the speed of each hill climb.
We climbed another hill and descended down the back side. When we got to the bottom, I gave it throttle to climb the next one. The engine went Varoom Zoom! But the bike didn't.
I gave it another. Varoom, varoom! and the bike glided to a standstill, with the engine still running.
At this point, I had no idea what was wrong, and my mind began to race. What am I going to do?
It was then I thankfully remembered the cell phone, it was also about that time I remembered there was no signal there.
I shut the bike off, and Abby jumped down just like she always does when I turn it off.
I sat there very quiet and still, and not believing this was happening. I rolled a cigarette, and lit it.
I thought of every possible scenario.
A walk home would be hideous. There's enough water, not quite enough tobacco, nor enough daylight left.
Maybe someone would come along, maybe someone wouldn't.
What would I do if they did?
A walk home, a drive back to get or fix the bike, and another drive home would make for a very long night.
Stay tuned for the exciting conclusion.
It should have read: who doesn't go anywhere without me.
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