tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44166320519658065882024-03-11T14:24:34.076-07:00The Church of the Open Road PressNarratives about motorcycling on Northern California's back roads; Reflections on the history and geography of the North State; Memoirs and early recollections of youthful visits to towns and forests and mountaintops.
Also middle-of-the-road takes on current issues in politics and education. Middle of the road? Isn't that dangerous?Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.comBlogger658125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-70531529372677118502024-03-11T13:49:00.000-07:002024-03-11T14:24:01.266-07:00VW LUST<p style="text-align: right;"> <i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">One of many air-cooled remembrances</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-emoji: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">My first real car</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> was a ’71 VW Super Beetle. Clementine orange. I purchased it new after an ill-fated six week ownership of a Triumph Spitfire into which I could barely fit. My new Volksie was the perfect car for the college-aged me: economical and dependable. But what I really lusted after was a Karmann Ghia: the poor man’s Porsche. Smooth European lines. Coachwork by Karmann ~ whoever the hell that was ~ and as reliable as my Beetle. But like that Spitfire, with my six-foot-four-inch frame I knew I could only lust after one.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0_dhVTomx9Me0YZ2lfrZHJkwA_5C7COFpXP29_rrFV9K_vRUTSEu-pS2EtoByegllLWxztWYZz3Tc0gbxXgDMMZ0gWbOMEGk-D7BVO2yqZqtdf-nG5p3Q55mgiGK53SLQb8Vg5dxq1exsM7U0rLgoGXdvv1o3LghSMJYYrCJKLc8q3hQMnDWmtAmak-D/s1024/volkswagen-karmann-ghia-described-as-the-most-beautiful-car-on-rcr_2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo0_dhVTomx9Me0YZ2lfrZHJkwA_5C7COFpXP29_rrFV9K_vRUTSEu-pS2EtoByegllLWxztWYZz3Tc0gbxXgDMMZ0gWbOMEGk-D7BVO2yqZqtdf-nG5p3Q55mgiGK53SLQb8Vg5dxq1exsM7U0rLgoGXdvv1o3LghSMJYYrCJKLc8q3hQMnDWmtAmak-D/s320/volkswagen-karmann-ghia-described-as-the-most-beautiful-car-on-rcr_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 14pt;">One evening around dusk, heading home from the wholesale house where I worked late and approaching the Southern Pacific tracks on First Street in Chico, I saw a cluster of college students milling about excitedly.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">In those days, Chico State was thought to offer class credit for beer consumption, and it might have been that these kids had been studying, because about 100 feet north of the crossing, a beautiful forest green Karmann Ghia was high centered across the tracks. Several young men were trying to lift the rear end and boost the thing over the rails ~</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><i style="font-size: 14pt;">Hey! Fellas! The front end is lighter!</i><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Several hundred yards north, the bobbing headlight of a southbound EsPee diesel foretold of impending disaster. Brakes screaming, it became clear the train wasn’t going to be able to stop in time and, at the last second, the crowd split like the Red Sea parting. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The impact was brutal. The beautiful little Ghia was bent and crushed and emitting sparks as the locomotive skidded the little coupe’s carcass across First Street right in front of me, coming to a halt about a block away.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I was sure no one was hurt and I was sure I had nothing to offer Chico’s finest when they arrived, so wide-eyed and sullen, I hung a U-ee and drove to the rented mobile home I shared with a roommate.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">As a connoisseur of hopped up Chevelles, 442s and GTOs, my roomie often made fun of my spanking new VW. I opened the door and moped in. Shortly, he asked why I appeared so down. <i>Had I lost my wallet? Did I get fired? Was I still pining over the lack of a girlfriend?</i> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I didn’t tell him. I knew he wouldn’t understand.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2024<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-34426316217223034062024-01-09T14:54:00.000-08:002024-01-09T15:57:22.599-08:00A DIFFERENT KIND OF BIKE<p style="text-align: right;"> <i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…or is it the same?</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3VD42yEOmeo5aFK_WGig_mmhcmUArAGJjcKwYALDMdAPjei4TVXLLLENtlZ0xq0aa2RnNRTkMtGGltNlVN2xeeueWk7lndMSG22GGLHEeGk2teRyV7RARUBlm9YnhCiDTgO9RJC5PUOvszEloyl5yW_xkSREGtpx-5vwZWNo2ox46SRJnMFCINxnaOBSX/s3748/0.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2238" data-original-width="3748" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3VD42yEOmeo5aFK_WGig_mmhcmUArAGJjcKwYALDMdAPjei4TVXLLLENtlZ0xq0aa2RnNRTkMtGGltNlVN2xeeueWk7lndMSG22GGLHEeGk2teRyV7RARUBlm9YnhCiDTgO9RJC5PUOvszEloyl5yW_xkSREGtpx-5vwZWNo2ox46SRJnMFCINxnaOBSX/s320/0.jpeg" width="320" /></a></b></div><b><br /></b><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">So I went in for my annual physical </span></b><span face="-webkit-standard"></span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> and my doctor said, “You should look at losing ten pounds.” Immediately, the choice was clear: Either exercise more (in my case, <i>exercise at all</i>) or get a new doctor.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Back in the 70s</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">, I bought myself the ultimate ten speed bicycle: a lovely black Peugeot with a lightweight frame, gum wall tires and drop handlebars. A real looker! The envy of the velo crowd before there was a velo crowd. Except for a short period when it lived in my brother’s barn, I’ve had the beauty the whole time. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCB9mHVsWQx8wzzqBQ3kFcO4RVj_E5vgLl3Gv3sk-xXxzTqTwBfLlfkoBHgPkXWwJlRAf_1Tds4ozvD4uN6-WHmqQAZ-QsluF8EXZmL_PYt4YrI9bXT-P0N5b5-RL_JxVIHNhlPs76mwgh80LJz0cEIxRyBjj41kGiZ_Kxta03kW5CBrPU8UhMEwR5t6cx/s1280/1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCB9mHVsWQx8wzzqBQ3kFcO4RVj_E5vgLl3Gv3sk-xXxzTqTwBfLlfkoBHgPkXWwJlRAf_1Tds4ozvD4uN6-WHmqQAZ-QsluF8EXZmL_PYt4YrI9bXT-P0N5b5-RL_JxVIHNhlPs76mwgh80LJz0cEIxRyBjj41kGiZ_Kxta03kW5CBrPU8UhMEwR5t6cx/s320/1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> A couple of years ago, I decided to use the old Peugeot as a means of developing some stamina and toning some muscles, but the drop handle bars and the out-of-sync derailleur made riding the classic a pain in my butt, as did the narrow seat. So into the garage it went. Its new mission was to simply gather dust.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvKrskannQgdWcGSCjgVOyvctFhQmakcUcXHLnue8BPxpIwbC5fCWW9Tc2fLazekrqU8sfDQMKoMunwjGGwNLOsbwOktUroqdQ4g7EAMhneGWqxo6w0vqLAMSB6kxLJ1TihgnCs6S6XYMtUDI9OXR-N2HLkm0QSlYjl9vnzyRpTIYGmNthud-g7Yh_R9_/s960/2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvKrskannQgdWcGSCjgVOyvctFhQmakcUcXHLnue8BPxpIwbC5fCWW9Tc2fLazekrqU8sfDQMKoMunwjGGwNLOsbwOktUroqdQ4g7EAMhneGWqxo6w0vqLAMSB6kxLJ1TihgnCs6S6XYMtUDI9OXR-N2HLkm0QSlYjl9vnzyRpTIYGmNthud-g7Yh_R9_/w200-h150/2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Fast forward to the other day after that consult with the doc. I resolved to get back on the French masterpiece and crank through the neighborhood until my thighs burned. Problem number one was that the front tire no longer held air. Problem two was that damned seat and the race-mentality geometry. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> A viable alternative would be the gym.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Working on the stationary bike there, ten minutes was about all I could take. Not of the exercise. Of <i>Fox and Friends</i>. (Actually, <i>any</i> news/talk yammering, for that matter.) I quit attending the gym knowing definitively that the only available option left for my particular circumstance was: Get a new doctor.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">About 100 years ago</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">, I pedaled from home to Rosedale School along a winding road that traced a creek. My mode of transportation was a Schwinn “Racer” with a three-speed Sturmey-Archer shift mechanism buried in the rear hub. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnr5ogL5nrEmyDR2c-1tL1FqdSrJdKPDcD05jg6KYIFahXVWHzfZqj8VIjqCD8lH5zbVSN7_W-7EMaMxhUIoOUxw0Pc8OmXM7s0xqlrh4Yvrfv4DpswWzYYHHC6OMA684UfWunSW-rq9K7Z2X7XDJapvHVnq2ZFWrDzLymvhctO5TlLe-rnaU4zts6RwIw/s1600/3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1195" data-original-width="1600" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnr5ogL5nrEmyDR2c-1tL1FqdSrJdKPDcD05jg6KYIFahXVWHzfZqj8VIjqCD8lH5zbVSN7_W-7EMaMxhUIoOUxw0Pc8OmXM7s0xqlrh4Yvrfv4DpswWzYYHHC6OMA684UfWunSW-rq9K7Z2X7XDJapvHVnq2ZFWrDzLymvhctO5TlLe-rnaU4zts6RwIw/s320/3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p>Dad had one of these bikes, also, and so did brother Beebo.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Not cool or sexy, the seating was upright and I never got a crick in my neck trying to look forward while bending over swooped-down handlebars.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The bike was perfect for that commute to school or a casual ride through Bidwell Park or out to the Sacramento River.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">But I had to improve on perfection and after a succession of two wheelers, I ended up with the Peugeot.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> The old ten speed served me well. Fast. Elegant. Relatively light. For some reason, however, I gave up using it regularly. Perhaps this had something to do with a yellow Honda Trail 90 motorbike.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">The bicycle vs new doctor</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> set of options was not the <i>full </i>set of options. A bike better suited to my aging, 70-plus-year-old frame might be a good choice. Better scenery than <i>Fox and Friends</i>. Fresher air than the gym. And, frankly, I like my doctor.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I settled upon a bike that seems a throwback to that Schwinn Racer of yore. An Electra ‘Loft’ built by Trek. Upright, comfortable seating. Chain guard for the trouser legs. And fenders! I actually rode home from the shop in the rain! And, although color doesn’t much matter to me, a gorgeous hue that is quite reminiscent of Moto Guzzi’s signature Tenni Green found on their mythical motorcycles of decades past. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2SV0SjJd8B5LwljcGfYwPSMDmg2b6EFJTqnh5ACF8ZobRcGNiDjbJZjVZViGzEqfghRSzOAIg9gnuoE1SFFD0UZHJAFMbhnLgJxJdTLkrqtoGnJ3mWXDH6C8V4qalur5RKzUYifL29RlbUmMatQXZDOe_BQNjyiNjSMIevIc48bRnZaTHAC7rGLKs_Zeu/s3524/5.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2491" data-original-width="3524" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2SV0SjJd8B5LwljcGfYwPSMDmg2b6EFJTqnh5ACF8ZobRcGNiDjbJZjVZViGzEqfghRSzOAIg9gnuoE1SFFD0UZHJAFMbhnLgJxJdTLkrqtoGnJ3mWXDH6C8V4qalur5RKzUYifL29RlbUmMatQXZDOe_BQNjyiNjSMIevIc48bRnZaTHAC7rGLKs_Zeu/s320/5.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Two minutes of test riding and the thing was mine. I’ve been out on it all four days since I purchased it (except one.) First ride was about ten minutes. Second one, too. Today? 20. Around the ‘hood and down the block to another ‘hood. Tomorrow? Who knows? The sky’s the limit! (No, it’s not. Get real!)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">I have only two resolutions</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> for 2024. Ride that bicycle for thirty minutes four to five times a week and read one book per week to work on one of my other weaknesses: literateness. It is now the second week of 2024 and I’m halfway through my first book.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Wish me luck.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2024<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-10354718387474436582023-12-28T12:55:00.000-08:002023-12-28T13:10:33.052-08:002023: THE CHURCH OF THE OPEN ROAD’S YEAR IN REVIEW<p style="text-align: right;"> <i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">Return to the Open Road</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Let’s start with the Runner-Up Shot of the Year: Mt. Shasta ~ the Queen with an exquisite collar…</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgorVrmktKudPLW5v8V1PaMf-rAN8jl8quU1YDFPJb-9VkoeCejD6CboNNvZIhzM6lzhEbe6zQQlag4efHo_W6-cwX9F_BZhQsuEujajshjkihevInRaXY5HXJf9A-OSguqVZ4CjzkfVSWbF_dMzqFjFLDNr9myhWmsxFxw0lT9Ook82EQT1sKyBJB9HImC/s4032/0.01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgorVrmktKudPLW5v8V1PaMf-rAN8jl8quU1YDFPJb-9VkoeCejD6CboNNvZIhzM6lzhEbe6zQQlag4efHo_W6-cwX9F_BZhQsuEujajshjkihevInRaXY5HXJf9A-OSguqVZ4CjzkfVSWbF_dMzqFjFLDNr9myhWmsxFxw0lT9Ook82EQT1sKyBJB9HImC/s320/0.01.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">In January, was the drought over?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyYJ9W7LsDn1pYkUny2RlE_P_nU7k_htSetFX1GR6_MJ1NOB94xX3ZTKz0aOrX3lrIjTye1bd0DBqv1kr2pRcgx16uufixbA1y1UuhDocJnkquTmIwnL_gCaIHhY2ymgXCRHlL9DQ0po7uTspeFv7K51N6DcK0VtjFmaF-G98nByPw6rrUmNCgZbR3AT1r/s4030/01.01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1263" data-original-width="4030" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyYJ9W7LsDn1pYkUny2RlE_P_nU7k_htSetFX1GR6_MJ1NOB94xX3ZTKz0aOrX3lrIjTye1bd0DBqv1kr2pRcgx16uufixbA1y1UuhDocJnkquTmIwnL_gCaIHhY2ymgXCRHlL9DQ0po7uTspeFv7K51N6DcK0VtjFmaF-G98nByPw6rrUmNCgZbR3AT1r/w400-h125/01.01.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">In February, it sure seemed so…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4PempGRGBDzKoLGfXEMLAp_6R6u8IuGjiTvkZHZnNBw5W0XupzVPfGb1rt4-kPOA2vrzwXGq0wrg-2rcWJG6ho76F4TEW2MM6IAP6byrUEj_takWw9NSyn3-VZcWBfvKT7YJQq80RJTmAweywbA0ffzVlyM8oA5_PbQxw5KB6A4FxINQql8HlLTPZnQcf/s3799/02.01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2849" data-original-width="3799" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4PempGRGBDzKoLGfXEMLAp_6R6u8IuGjiTvkZHZnNBw5W0XupzVPfGb1rt4-kPOA2vrzwXGq0wrg-2rcWJG6ho76F4TEW2MM6IAP6byrUEj_takWw9NSyn3-VZcWBfvKT7YJQq80RJTmAweywbA0ffzVlyM8oA5_PbQxw5KB6A4FxINQql8HlLTPZnQcf/s320/02.01.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Can Spring be far off?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiABjuw6u-rRs73iY7vGrOVW2bUgseV2ZIVXo9NA4JiiW7QCFwJ4WkqAdh_GtlwcFIjfWrs2tg7Vk1cWQh4oaTA4U7BcD5juY8FxVk9J0o0-xXc999CIlyGfdDVmSb_aJyDbzUkmr3C33cUX_rHedP6hpl39awW4WPOYFlxEIXSNk2stKxoOP30GiCVi_M9/s1826/02.02.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1777" data-original-width="1826" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiABjuw6u-rRs73iY7vGrOVW2bUgseV2ZIVXo9NA4JiiW7QCFwJ4WkqAdh_GtlwcFIjfWrs2tg7Vk1cWQh4oaTA4U7BcD5juY8FxVk9J0o0-xXc999CIlyGfdDVmSb_aJyDbzUkmr3C33cUX_rHedP6hpl39awW4WPOYFlxEIXSNk2stKxoOP30GiCVi_M9/s320/02.02.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Ummm… Yes, it can be far off: Unheard of snowfall in the ‘hood.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1vVu5tN1ZVn39WDRXPpvfy5MuymzT2Akt-DAjKsqAel7SlC4pQmJrEmSw-iLHMuLpBtRd73IVVYTgJ8JyGy3Q6fO6hx_eIdsey4lPlWIJLltwENYFi4XrOB4LGKHgbzdcv96Uqj7SCxPsjtKVGZ2yG_oGgzGF62IJ8tH8KF14VYLz1DtKC0HC7lGBff3g/s4592/02.03.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4592" data-original-width="3448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1vVu5tN1ZVn39WDRXPpvfy5MuymzT2Akt-DAjKsqAel7SlC4pQmJrEmSw-iLHMuLpBtRd73IVVYTgJ8JyGy3Q6fO6hx_eIdsey4lPlWIJLltwENYFi4XrOB4LGKHgbzdcv96Uqj7SCxPsjtKVGZ2yG_oGgzGF62IJ8tH8KF14VYLz1DtKC0HC7lGBff3g/s320/02.03.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Marching on: Havana 1 ~ Typical street scene<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiwzMIaevO33mEjchDhIRt20XF0e3XNaPJ_yql0xtOtZZsLAxTH_Yaf32TBvqaXKknguyaSQqcA5bgYTcbqvgITXYGlGw92TP3tvM6IaruDCq9seP8_RI6r38CrOiwekBT5OaHNl-d9dFVK5odydWgoZ2z7xjikN6EKYslLwRiPj3JP44HD7JrHfymorsx/s4032/03.01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiwzMIaevO33mEjchDhIRt20XF0e3XNaPJ_yql0xtOtZZsLAxTH_Yaf32TBvqaXKknguyaSQqcA5bgYTcbqvgITXYGlGw92TP3tvM6IaruDCq9seP8_RI6r38CrOiwekBT5OaHNl-d9dFVK5odydWgoZ2z7xjikN6EKYslLwRiPj3JP44HD7JrHfymorsx/s320/03.01.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Havana 2 ~ Father – Son?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq9XCObE3E1tLrbVQB39O3thynDaeCk5j5y6782Ga4ywNh2BWpsbbxcKqj1Ht6IL9I19zbgN0-3rZ3I_q71fMMFf5lqDMY34uMh8vWhnzIvi_7NiRcSiG2JuzGhQcIi2IsVnYlmQUmBAhOnNwVteh0DCm3I-FlFlbhAqf1tLRmu3M3uMeWcU9XmEnXQIiU/s3272/03.02.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3272" data-original-width="1527" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq9XCObE3E1tLrbVQB39O3thynDaeCk5j5y6782Ga4ywNh2BWpsbbxcKqj1Ht6IL9I19zbgN0-3rZ3I_q71fMMFf5lqDMY34uMh8vWhnzIvi_7NiRcSiG2JuzGhQcIi2IsVnYlmQUmBAhOnNwVteh0DCm3I-FlFlbhAqf1tLRmu3M3uMeWcU9XmEnXQIiU/s320/03.02.jpeg" width="149" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Havana 3 ~ Wanna see my Mitsubishi motor?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk4fki8Z-mmaQch76_T7haA0EbA84HGoaEt-NShHFf6WHHe9mDMlLzPGqWcytxt-aDFq8WmBnWTknpg7rcbf4MoM3TtnzdJX05FEg_x8F9HM9vNqEdRxu4TqJrEZEKb7J78J8R3gVjDzKz_d8FPdU9KErdVkRsSrwGiaD3X54ov0ooI3yr5Zf9Dm17iyZ9/s4032/03.03.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk4fki8Z-mmaQch76_T7haA0EbA84HGoaEt-NShHFf6WHHe9mDMlLzPGqWcytxt-aDFq8WmBnWTknpg7rcbf4MoM3TtnzdJX05FEg_x8F9HM9vNqEdRxu4TqJrEZEKb7J78J8R3gVjDzKz_d8FPdU9KErdVkRsSrwGiaD3X54ov0ooI3yr5Zf9Dm17iyZ9/s320/03.03.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Havana 4 ~ Dance like they’re all watching!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpTbKb-xIiz0xC6VZcFe9fDKI0Qjb7AzGbVy-zcKeOR4XeakqbRy1kjGmBcasSXWR-g_e7X5J-K13caDipEyP8dkjAYQqW0ftOQCMVbf4y5CMAwxnxNFB_wyZ7zibD4906DsNYATj61kwzDCvOz-1nxsqrdyICPSC5VWaSTWdKK6KBD60ECMoKK416XORx/s4032/03.04.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpTbKb-xIiz0xC6VZcFe9fDKI0Qjb7AzGbVy-zcKeOR4XeakqbRy1kjGmBcasSXWR-g_e7X5J-K13caDipEyP8dkjAYQqW0ftOQCMVbf4y5CMAwxnxNFB_wyZ7zibD4906DsNYATj61kwzDCvOz-1nxsqrdyICPSC5VWaSTWdKK6KBD60ECMoKK416XORx/s320/03.04.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Carrizo Plain ~ Our visit was mudded out!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUnN758rwu9v-x12aOpbff88cb9Pen2S2cGO-8MbRBhgFW_TTd-B-EiWie2nrhuD8VVdFR4E4oFmxe78wYR94MRybNd70qaSYed5m6OaJoaGKJnA5xLigYXieYAMzWmBu7uuMyHPs-9Li_gTiQg3e75e7H_R4X0mQp6OzIDbphjDkvPQxxTD7Elx_GQdpr/s4561/03.05.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2967" data-original-width="4561" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUnN758rwu9v-x12aOpbff88cb9Pen2S2cGO-8MbRBhgFW_TTd-B-EiWie2nrhuD8VVdFR4E4oFmxe78wYR94MRybNd70qaSYed5m6OaJoaGKJnA5xLigYXieYAMzWmBu7uuMyHPs-9Li_gTiQg3e75e7H_R4X0mQp6OzIDbphjDkvPQxxTD7Elx_GQdpr/s320/03.05.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Carrizo Plain ~ A fraction of what we might have seen.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA6ozgL7sAL_NqiPzT6rH7wvkU6SiGTcWlsw1M1B1KFlzOpgytirwxLiewwaz9hV510q8Tk2RlOKapTibybTaMYT8RckSaWRJgeaUFqG5leTZTzlbqcIG22Yi3MPQ_Z06DM2FrhBFWazSGhCf8jeJc4arUg-wjtoPp0vSY9Huq5g-DxT2BEFuw5MenJW8D/s4592/03.06.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3448" data-original-width="4592" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA6ozgL7sAL_NqiPzT6rH7wvkU6SiGTcWlsw1M1B1KFlzOpgytirwxLiewwaz9hV510q8Tk2RlOKapTibybTaMYT8RckSaWRJgeaUFqG5leTZTzlbqcIG22Yi3MPQ_Z06DM2FrhBFWazSGhCf8jeJc4arUg-wjtoPp0vSY9Huq5g-DxT2BEFuw5MenJW8D/s320/03.06.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">April: Spring arrives back home!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOuUkPQuzJSAxGSDZiFDAJQs4ivZ0iqc8mTY3j0GGJ_Loqs-5zNUsQN_EfT1vcEa7BlA3VtG-y_Z7X8hLSVWt9JMOx94t0VqaU2x7HcyhOYeaS9LNJMo8pOKRSq09MCkF799DMh7AHdZJby2getF_ikJeQ14uOMKsZmdRv9rwaTSlvuaiuZE68Ml1f56hc/s3960/04.01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1741" data-original-width="3960" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOuUkPQuzJSAxGSDZiFDAJQs4ivZ0iqc8mTY3j0GGJ_Loqs-5zNUsQN_EfT1vcEa7BlA3VtG-y_Z7X8hLSVWt9JMOx94t0VqaU2x7HcyhOYeaS9LNJMo8pOKRSq09MCkF799DMh7AHdZJby2getF_ikJeQ14uOMKsZmdRv9rwaTSlvuaiuZE68Ml1f56hc/w400-h176/04.01.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">… and Edward departs telling us he’ll wait for us on the other side…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVCM8i1faXgI0H9qiyVsba94Gwcf3lLzAsB_qSigr1jkX46_q9D4UmJEy_5Rqj5UyhXM_RZmpJrkpQgNL4Lc_RHnFHSg0Y64Ap4ShSKKvhrI5ZNsdShtracyOr84kJHtNZ3Vsja32XaB9S-Pzvee7yKePHKRJ4oDFhhfHDjapPbK7nxE0tk2PBUomaRdL2/s3011/04.02.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1721" data-original-width="3011" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVCM8i1faXgI0H9qiyVsba94Gwcf3lLzAsB_qSigr1jkX46_q9D4UmJEy_5Rqj5UyhXM_RZmpJrkpQgNL4Lc_RHnFHSg0Y64Ap4ShSKKvhrI5ZNsdShtracyOr84kJHtNZ3Vsja32XaB9S-Pzvee7yKePHKRJ4oDFhhfHDjapPbK7nxE0tk2PBUomaRdL2/s320/04.02.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">May be fickle about my motor-sicle: Here’s the new V-85.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdw_7UCTVyYJoh7U3WeF5tNAw_XlwcovDNnCsgTmnQrM8Q1Ri-PJIcP4QUgfJW0vhCXLEBb0oe_KqJcT6Lxq6E1Y0la0-1PPHjBROgLZQFHALQfjTtsFYHP2afYgNN1CKi1lB2znoiBI4DSY7H6jiHBxzneGQOR-bFEprtEtF0j7Z9OxYwErYhtBzq9gC0/s3739/05.01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3739" data-original-width="2296" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdw_7UCTVyYJoh7U3WeF5tNAw_XlwcovDNnCsgTmnQrM8Q1Ri-PJIcP4QUgfJW0vhCXLEBb0oe_KqJcT6Lxq6E1Y0la0-1PPHjBROgLZQFHALQfjTtsFYHP2afYgNN1CKi1lB2znoiBI4DSY7H6jiHBxzneGQOR-bFEprtEtF0j7Z9OxYwErYhtBzq9gC0/s320/05.01.jpeg" width="197" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">June: Sea Ranch buck asks, “What ‘chu lookin’ at?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0AeXgazGz1AFUkOb0moe9cPCFg5LKtFLlYqq5MBXydc4iocQV4iFfKSIfgfr8WvBBbQYgpiH9iN6VpxtaD7s3Vk3pW-7cmp5C4xgXzf_qyhUOQkoC_sr_IPllkbdz0lWxf_Mh2i7hTFa4CfjaON-Bbc_e1keynNqtp0k5MROS0rTFMUFEXqzC_2CG89cO/s4592/06.01.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3448" data-original-width="4592" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0AeXgazGz1AFUkOb0moe9cPCFg5LKtFLlYqq5MBXydc4iocQV4iFfKSIfgfr8WvBBbQYgpiH9iN6VpxtaD7s3Vk3pW-7cmp5C4xgXzf_qyhUOQkoC_sr_IPllkbdz0lWxf_Mh2i7hTFa4CfjaON-Bbc_e1keynNqtp0k5MROS0rTFMUFEXqzC_2CG89cO/s320/06.01.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Tidepool<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ4jTEIDa6R4xMMfvntmHjEEIYi2Yx_DITIZyraIQTCeEnDWR5lG52vQTd_vtc_UJeUhHPzgUBZDx4slyBKmSFho53oIgeJx6pWGUEwmhSJwJGY3hTTuJU3U0G4aTNjaHO95AxLcJQ72N_NZAz8tibrr018g4VmxPgxgUP13eif37N5LkyxzwSodQl6E1D/s4592/06.02.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3448" data-original-width="4592" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ4jTEIDa6R4xMMfvntmHjEEIYi2Yx_DITIZyraIQTCeEnDWR5lG52vQTd_vtc_UJeUhHPzgUBZDx4slyBKmSFho53oIgeJx6pWGUEwmhSJwJGY3hTTuJU3U0G4aTNjaHO95AxLcJQ72N_NZAz8tibrr018g4VmxPgxgUP13eif37N5LkyxzwSodQl6E1D/s320/06.02.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Snoozin’ by the sea… Shouldn't you guys be out frolicking in the surf? (Nope!)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAk5vEVC9hCC1mWj2DM5ANJSZ7uVlkbfgymWyAShvMguxJuWZY3bWSmSgN17J_ZhKG1PZ6UBwUriDCP8OLWgigE8fAXY7RbZB1jN7vOdgrznBMKqNbSqZcBuBiTKngBvbeh0jGnVUOg0PBQh4fWpTE_TsxXrkwZndu6GldWJqSwttJFouzzXSbtPxKRFB5/s4032/06.03.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAk5vEVC9hCC1mWj2DM5ANJSZ7uVlkbfgymWyAShvMguxJuWZY3bWSmSgN17J_ZhKG1PZ6UBwUriDCP8OLWgigE8fAXY7RbZB1jN7vOdgrznBMKqNbSqZcBuBiTKngBvbeh0jGnVUOg0PBQh4fWpTE_TsxXrkwZndu6GldWJqSwttJFouzzXSbtPxKRFB5/s320/06.03.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Rockin’ on…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Tu2MxwnFIE0k3CwLs_R8M7w_BS8ktgdHqFPVAf27WuUKFr350qEYmaf40r81Jewr18GruBrJy1VJRdiAOxJO7WE3_aj7v8BXnMMUajiBloqhS37JwDeUkrfFt2QcMHQQYun2FENNWRTp1hVmlc_RBNIPe9pw7aQCjzygr2kH_Q1xKLU39yvKHVyNBt5c/s4592/06.04.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3448" data-original-width="4592" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Tu2MxwnFIE0k3CwLs_R8M7w_BS8ktgdHqFPVAf27WuUKFr350qEYmaf40r81Jewr18GruBrJy1VJRdiAOxJO7WE3_aj7v8BXnMMUajiBloqhS37JwDeUkrfFt2QcMHQQYun2FENNWRTp1hVmlc_RBNIPe9pw7aQCjzygr2kH_Q1xKLU39yvKHVyNBt5c/s320/06.04.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Stable mates at a favored haunt ~ the Eureka Inn<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJDrGTBHgATQSQCEYc9Yq1sBJhb8_26aCpnkNYRJusRVuykk5x3lOimIVsmTS59yr4bmmF1tuOwysM9uTzZHtcyEaruOi5wn2ePU2RB0vE85aVwBzIq5Ua-Txu7YhgaTR9CPKud0q1KHDUL_sNse0grKo-BfpQ6qwuDHAaF-O22z9K5Ok-NkiJm5wsqJ9/s4023/06.05.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2415" data-original-width="4023" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirJDrGTBHgATQSQCEYc9Yq1sBJhb8_26aCpnkNYRJusRVuykk5x3lOimIVsmTS59yr4bmmF1tuOwysM9uTzZHtcyEaruOi5wn2ePU2RB0vE85aVwBzIq5Ua-Txu7YhgaTR9CPKud0q1KHDUL_sNse0grKo-BfpQ6qwuDHAaF-O22z9K5Ok-NkiJm5wsqJ9/s320/06.05.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">This is among the reasons they call it “Adventure touring…”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0oddUYdqvdd1icUvRRaic68buYrIgxIJn8dYoIlG__PCx1IeJO2vHg5Xc84UCSdtqdt0lP3283chIYtugA_XwDbcdpmrOqYgvKDQ407oRsW6O50rK2KpT44RqoYRdpXjYLvDmI9ur0kTiMDvZTzR3Qb8yPDbWfUq4UTK1q_8QkEINxNNVpPmHlE2flLu4/s2048/06.06.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0oddUYdqvdd1icUvRRaic68buYrIgxIJn8dYoIlG__PCx1IeJO2vHg5Xc84UCSdtqdt0lP3283chIYtugA_XwDbcdpmrOqYgvKDQ407oRsW6O50rK2KpT44RqoYRdpXjYLvDmI9ur0kTiMDvZTzR3Qb8yPDbWfUq4UTK1q_8QkEINxNNVpPmHlE2flLu4/s320/06.06.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">July: A visit to my commute route of 40 years ago…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWetG4k2E6ySJMcYJNhcx_SYZkN4vgzdPeeslvYTIZNKKOnM9q215nxeeLhi_xJgs2e_fq98rubzROKpZ4g8822aHSJmOVF5EfgasdRz_MXCj0TGKZggbU7MzYptV7MTU8zIV6_YYZUymaF1EuMsqNl-qWTi9RWLWcCRAYfOQL3Et7KAY7JAgNvZHJhjif/s4032/07.01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWetG4k2E6ySJMcYJNhcx_SYZkN4vgzdPeeslvYTIZNKKOnM9q215nxeeLhi_xJgs2e_fq98rubzROKpZ4g8822aHSJmOVF5EfgasdRz_MXCj0TGKZggbU7MzYptV7MTU8zIV6_YYZUymaF1EuMsqNl-qWTi9RWLWcCRAYfOQL3Et7KAY7JAgNvZHJhjif/s320/07.01.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">August: Evening in Astoria<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX_WwScuM5JzwAkcf5-lR-Vf339n0z07BTzjWc7JfTru593SamjFyoWqn6svfbdEU20dbrGwPjh-G9Ok8l642K9BfTzGn9O6LugpObP8UIN6eJ1byRsnyrf-OJDodUDnpZWo66epMqEmkC8xQvJg5uit4daTb1XlmdLy1bJpujlL0rL1uRbC37Jgntzf8X/s4032/08.01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX_WwScuM5JzwAkcf5-lR-Vf339n0z07BTzjWc7JfTru593SamjFyoWqn6svfbdEU20dbrGwPjh-G9Ok8l642K9BfTzGn9O6LugpObP8UIN6eJ1byRsnyrf-OJDodUDnpZWo66epMqEmkC8xQvJg5uit4daTb1XlmdLy1bJpujlL0rL1uRbC37Jgntzf8X/s320/08.01.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Revisiting Hurricane Ridge ~ 35 years hence...<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbZiE0ZODUKorZwW-j33U8aoFpXfaMuyQcALlv6jfvNKpjRdWdZhfWx7DtY0v_lSdo5ADr0hAfN_moqXo4AiICkgy32jHVzI5pbd8SH5_lOSuXKEnUEsNj-n4vp3z-HAK1tPsPu47_yo5TLO1i1ufA2s010xVaB9ZPaltXFIBhileGVuoSyojsyXy1TGj7/s4590/08.02.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2032" data-original-width="4590" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbZiE0ZODUKorZwW-j33U8aoFpXfaMuyQcALlv6jfvNKpjRdWdZhfWx7DtY0v_lSdo5ADr0hAfN_moqXo4AiICkgy32jHVzI5pbd8SH5_lOSuXKEnUEsNj-n4vp3z-HAK1tPsPu47_yo5TLO1i1ufA2s010xVaB9ZPaltXFIBhileGVuoSyojsyXy1TGj7/w400-h178/08.02.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The Oregon Outback<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmJvC1R4WlNEaEQoQFDleF5kl4wv1p5bkoQQG9lRTrZ_SuN_q16yBqHleHWsN4vQtYvz3-tzRCmmBpN0kVsuBPailghyrhhaxbZ2M0gtRhDm3SAZ3pHSHTQk0_UN4uc0M0W9QHXPyQ4iK4LQwkdJJVXaRsoEUlIFMw5vldj24YuxoB7v8wIdyCL6_fK2do/s3441/08.03.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3441" data-original-width="2951" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmJvC1R4WlNEaEQoQFDleF5kl4wv1p5bkoQQG9lRTrZ_SuN_q16yBqHleHWsN4vQtYvz3-tzRCmmBpN0kVsuBPailghyrhhaxbZ2M0gtRhDm3SAZ3pHSHTQk0_UN4uc0M0W9QHXPyQ4iK4LQwkdJJVXaRsoEUlIFMw5vldj24YuxoB7v8wIdyCL6_fK2do/s320/08.03.jpeg" width="274" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Perfunctory old truck ~ Diamond, OR<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwXRSAkZhod15V1TvZjhKe9_uUSh4-en7A4fAhT7DAT7BSKRw0Z48gW5gOfFxou_Twaj-B7w-O2288hJdhrrhPR8VCVVKKnoN_RdwVZ7MZEE1HPfpnmyiCBlFFVl6ZO1BP0lLmEdd9wKrc1ImIsFHCjwRZll-FYwbh3CCvvMjyHAUJLRYprCHl28pH6OfQ/s4032/08.04.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwXRSAkZhod15V1TvZjhKe9_uUSh4-en7A4fAhT7DAT7BSKRw0Z48gW5gOfFxou_Twaj-B7w-O2288hJdhrrhPR8VCVVKKnoN_RdwVZ7MZEE1HPfpnmyiCBlFFVl6ZO1BP0lLmEdd9wKrc1ImIsFHCjwRZll-FYwbh3CCvvMjyHAUJLRYprCHl28pH6OfQ/s320/08.04.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">In September we welcome Jethro, not sure if he’ll fill the holes in our hearts.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihiHiMW5CKUUaovjPK1c0UBWFanA5tuZ8mwXaSmdj6FLCSLDE5ohMOpPIgHPFj8czh33OCRZ8sk-bcKjsOfCpynVEE1Z95K5HYvOqZCh-LCU9ppNopkz7toscIxTf-ZsVTufDNxWdQOC9-OSwO0gr108gCX-uRBmpOFxSm_9CbhE7QvQUL59nOpnqGwAvY/s3947/09.01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3947" data-original-width="2433" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihiHiMW5CKUUaovjPK1c0UBWFanA5tuZ8mwXaSmdj6FLCSLDE5ohMOpPIgHPFj8czh33OCRZ8sk-bcKjsOfCpynVEE1Z95K5HYvOqZCh-LCU9ppNopkz7toscIxTf-ZsVTufDNxWdQOC9-OSwO0gr108gCX-uRBmpOFxSm_9CbhE7QvQUL59nOpnqGwAvY/s320/09.01.jpeg" width="197" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Local slough<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6a-er8HiMjE7fxWCgbvhtl_vspzaX_MC5dkFMkjz31xGpNIrhNp7uXYmbD54ZDtaS38cr06N0oWv-_eRCfMTQnz-M8JUkU2o4lwaPVJ8Ralku0A7c9lLP79-gKUDHGRyv7KRSWhVfmBFyD7YeaLric5NofNKzLKoMPxwqXDMkkIPdYOgHoeafu6eP6tGZ/s3086/09.02.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2440" data-original-width="3086" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6a-er8HiMjE7fxWCgbvhtl_vspzaX_MC5dkFMkjz31xGpNIrhNp7uXYmbD54ZDtaS38cr06N0oWv-_eRCfMTQnz-M8JUkU2o4lwaPVJ8Ralku0A7c9lLP79-gKUDHGRyv7KRSWhVfmBFyD7YeaLric5NofNKzLKoMPxwqXDMkkIPdYOgHoeafu6eP6tGZ/s320/09.02.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">October: Two roads in Oregon diverged…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlw7WiGo-L4snY5Ckp0tNwZqYDMrfDAYKou9ovKgqFfUNaFVnOyGAeMTgU_Kk9AvhqxLMZqvh5T9whjgMpULnoZqyr_rstSzjpXCe-Hl1aZaTPqfUQGZy3hF7p18kXh6rXOCgnudGcFWalVXhEBaIuiI_pIxfPyQsQPHVBBSUk6Ec7HrxkuPS2XqclsFsN/s4032/10.01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlw7WiGo-L4snY5Ckp0tNwZqYDMrfDAYKou9ovKgqFfUNaFVnOyGAeMTgU_Kk9AvhqxLMZqvh5T9whjgMpULnoZqyr_rstSzjpXCe-Hl1aZaTPqfUQGZy3hF7p18kXh6rXOCgnudGcFWalVXhEBaIuiI_pIxfPyQsQPHVBBSUk6Ec7HrxkuPS2XqclsFsN/s320/10.01.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">One goes to Crater Lake (seen here through the bug screen)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmegoqnDM09bclPm-jfKuXlmu80Njyc3zb0lUpeeMTtOk6hoSytboajCFUrtB7Umg2NQGm4yUrNWwv1HZt9DVwMI2j1wwzc4SwTi7nabQIre_pOeItthBBTEaWWyGOUhzUBUPxuL3xC45NrhExiCO33gpcr-rOtIygi01zv5u-b9HYWLIlp53lokQdfYgj/s4032/10.02.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmegoqnDM09bclPm-jfKuXlmu80Njyc3zb0lUpeeMTtOk6hoSytboajCFUrtB7Umg2NQGm4yUrNWwv1HZt9DVwMI2j1wwzc4SwTi7nabQIre_pOeItthBBTEaWWyGOUhzUBUPxuL3xC45NrhExiCO33gpcr-rOtIygi01zv5u-b9HYWLIlp53lokQdfYgj/s320/10.02.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Meanwhile, back at Sea Ranch…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU8VQCaY0woUguk9z0Cz77wlrzVL5SlKY4QQjV5qTzW2uybzdxnNYTV6m-7eIbykrUCPOnHEKf-8XR9b_LvbcSF7dvnQVizfdR1etKscj6p3NhNqfzLo4y6kBe84khgGECoN8lkGyzcoDgzErtvOKtuJjrNPft4SFWG7DO0h8LSNGCQL2517YdoLPzqUNj/s3633/10.03.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3633" data-original-width="2832" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU8VQCaY0woUguk9z0Cz77wlrzVL5SlKY4QQjV5qTzW2uybzdxnNYTV6m-7eIbykrUCPOnHEKf-8XR9b_LvbcSF7dvnQVizfdR1etKscj6p3NhNqfzLo4y6kBe84khgGECoN8lkGyzcoDgzErtvOKtuJjrNPft4SFWG7DO0h8LSNGCQL2517YdoLPzqUNj/s320/10.03.jpeg" width="249" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Future California State Senate President Pro Tempore (and all around good guy) Mike McGuire visits the Cloverdale Democratic Club (of which I am the Vice Chair.)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm4Dv8ZNEpyRQh4OZ0Q5p3l0DHp4lGi-hE9PAHvvj_wJ5c6fHXZy_OLi6rNGAddUiuk0nG4AMniNj-W3Sqn-RvyfInq2UOM9cnHv2Ip8lD5h9dkFN6VA4MGaKH3DXrlQZ1hRQXi3h2ljYWGr4JmfL_VeTeqFimTJrJNdO3IvnLbglnsSvaHZv1EaMLIHEc/s3024/10.04.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3012" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm4Dv8ZNEpyRQh4OZ0Q5p3l0DHp4lGi-hE9PAHvvj_wJ5c6fHXZy_OLi6rNGAddUiuk0nG4AMniNj-W3Sqn-RvyfInq2UOM9cnHv2Ip8lD5h9dkFN6VA4MGaKH3DXrlQZ1hRQXi3h2ljYWGr4JmfL_VeTeqFimTJrJNdO3IvnLbglnsSvaHZv1EaMLIHEc/s320/10.04.jpeg" width="319" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">In November this shot of Porterfield Creek made it into the Santa Rosa paper. (Woo! Hoo!)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOZfHSVbmAF76cFk6wkSGlcpYhdlGawInNgCsYZLTGbr7s7ca6tAT4aFnb85paByjGTJFlDlLV4L2v9xVCVtwSqpqlmiTEBgtwLmVCAENZ9enlSIsypc0AAzZubRtuT0E0hRnBPI74TcUop8DTvxjHd7AXZq7usXUVYqDSETT180CxOYBuSk-wf_QagMFM/s4032/11.01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOZfHSVbmAF76cFk6wkSGlcpYhdlGawInNgCsYZLTGbr7s7ca6tAT4aFnb85paByjGTJFlDlLV4L2v9xVCVtwSqpqlmiTEBgtwLmVCAENZ9enlSIsypc0AAzZubRtuT0E0hRnBPI74TcUop8DTvxjHd7AXZq7usXUVYqDSETT180CxOYBuSk-wf_QagMFM/s320/11.01.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">December’s Perfunctory old truck<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiiNf8YC4SX0dnZDDg8dKwCDdXF_ZWzIAf-pqzN_MEfqbge9ld6FbZ5F2js6yoDEoavUF2MYRl4ggI1GgApuDuXfY9UUqX9L1pHhLGtnQq3WL9lEuETtRQ3gTqlROt436XdiZkPtmRd9kymxtmDlPEJ-a1RVsH3Vd-GxKkFXKn8KMPzUzNfzyDdVxB2sHD/s3395/12.01.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3395" data-original-width="2647" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiiNf8YC4SX0dnZDDg8dKwCDdXF_ZWzIAf-pqzN_MEfqbge9ld6FbZ5F2js6yoDEoavUF2MYRl4ggI1GgApuDuXfY9UUqX9L1pHhLGtnQq3WL9lEuETtRQ3gTqlROt436XdiZkPtmRd9kymxtmDlPEJ-a1RVsH3Vd-GxKkFXKn8KMPzUzNfzyDdVxB2sHD/s320/12.01.jpeg" width="249" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Alien Craft in our front yard ~ YIKES!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqzg-Ok0sENPWMYMk9h0_LAegQJgT5jlpAtb5A09pktMo76B8FUMGRfgZRqAb2kyr-t8R0TaibFPKYsmsBwtdl9h24_pL2BIuvV4i6njT9QdWcVMzxAtcONA0O6ZKsP54ccdxf-PaWjzI8mfAT-XRgsZkaJU8Djajrp_FDtTRNAGnUGCTT3KWMe6WkTk9X/s3516/12.02.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1596" data-original-width="3516" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqzg-Ok0sENPWMYMk9h0_LAegQJgT5jlpAtb5A09pktMo76B8FUMGRfgZRqAb2kyr-t8R0TaibFPKYsmsBwtdl9h24_pL2BIuvV4i6njT9QdWcVMzxAtcONA0O6ZKsP54ccdxf-PaWjzI8mfAT-XRgsZkaJU8Djajrp_FDtTRNAGnUGCTT3KWMe6WkTk9X/w400-h181/12.02.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Jethro sez: “I’m working on filling your hearts with puppy love and you do this to me???”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDfpoa3MzVDaJIxaGb1KRvVDYWwozcpp4i4hswIRw4LdcD_ji-ZRC6E_sKYMQPLFtylDddIppPmcuzzUfQoYOqY_Dcu7wE8pMW3TMbZjj7lbkNdcBpl_-L0HPe1yDWrSb25Jh2DLNkXA3rP-YxlSqKTqnjEO3bxmdqEm7XAJJ7UDRXUUvMfJFz7RpYHzdV/s4032/12.03.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDfpoa3MzVDaJIxaGb1KRvVDYWwozcpp4i4hswIRw4LdcD_ji-ZRC6E_sKYMQPLFtylDddIppPmcuzzUfQoYOqY_Dcu7wE8pMW3TMbZjj7lbkNdcBpl_-L0HPe1yDWrSb25Jh2DLNkXA3rP-YxlSqKTqnjEO3bxmdqEm7XAJJ7UDRXUUvMfJFz7RpYHzdV/s320/12.03.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman Bold"; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Favored Art of the Year</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> – Portrait of my late mother by my kid Merritt!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLKvslp3nIxt85yvx4T7IlNtN86dk69JAQLGvDhW2LE4DHJdnWhoeMa3n3EkeOqmJ_zrjgKFx3yGoSCEZlxKS6ElBF08OzdSlH26kxyhiKRXEk4qAjcKTZIYPeSo7DH4UZgIhR53modOvCC6KzNQtUrUcCGzAi4Tfg0jfifeZb7pUnZDqQL290JGIeLqeJ/s2048/13.1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLKvslp3nIxt85yvx4T7IlNtN86dk69JAQLGvDhW2LE4DHJdnWhoeMa3n3EkeOqmJ_zrjgKFx3yGoSCEZlxKS6ElBF08OzdSlH26kxyhiKRXEk4qAjcKTZIYPeSo7DH4UZgIhR53modOvCC6KzNQtUrUcCGzAi4Tfg0jfifeZb7pUnZDqQL290JGIeLqeJ/s320/13.1.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman Bold"; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Favorite Book of the Year</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> – Not much for best sellers because so frequently they are formulaic and disappoint. This one surely doesn’t! If you haven’t already read “All the Light…” move it to the top of your list.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsIHvGQVZtA6oeAQOi2yOgEkh5df0r6doKblS_wc1A0F5ONGTztzrxXHDsrGHAGJozUl4cljrbYL-j0HBu5wrJVQokFiHP_rEBiaUKVhm_xwVvy6j1rpyIxJj61t-EsJPWnHyXPyL8eOLcNQ7boVyKgH86VMiLFSVlj4uZweHPhQbuMLsxKhAQbDJg_oIu/s3335/13.2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3335" data-original-width="2168" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsIHvGQVZtA6oeAQOi2yOgEkh5df0r6doKblS_wc1A0F5ONGTztzrxXHDsrGHAGJozUl4cljrbYL-j0HBu5wrJVQokFiHP_rEBiaUKVhm_xwVvy6j1rpyIxJj61t-EsJPWnHyXPyL8eOLcNQ7boVyKgH86VMiLFSVlj4uZweHPhQbuMLsxKhAQbDJg_oIu/s320/13.2.jpeg" width="208" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">3<sup>rd</sup> Runner Up: Footsteps in the Snow<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbG2ubUiDOqjnv3XyIpgJiz0bU6SRY65D-fL3e32azKtAuBoIMXNBiQsQ7vDXhIhUSViHYoZaJwRdVfRxs3GyOTZs6vC7XKdHwtNiwZOTAKsWPlRMqv5AAly2lJbARv4UwMxknGQgXZK9uFtU-hzzLCfbvvqy0v8f6Z5tAD322uYsv07iHR6MkfoB9KuAj/s4592/13.3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4592" data-original-width="3448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbG2ubUiDOqjnv3XyIpgJiz0bU6SRY65D-fL3e32azKtAuBoIMXNBiQsQ7vDXhIhUSViHYoZaJwRdVfRxs3GyOTZs6vC7XKdHwtNiwZOTAKsWPlRMqv5AAly2lJbARv4UwMxknGQgXZK9uFtU-hzzLCfbvvqy0v8f6Z5tAD322uYsv07iHR6MkfoB9KuAj/s320/13.3.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">2<sup>nd</sup> Runner Up: Under the Boardwalk<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5aXdM1XtixVWRXGl2bCKEh-0lngVIHl3EHKJ_01WWy3fLFKP2cv7lChbrP1ayN1F6G25W0Mft-lj4hyphenhyphenjWkzVLYQfEm-A2Wg8W1HiMetcBT2k8ugOX5_35KmUwD2yi0mD5fi4dc5tPRps5ZAdwh6PQ3XbH8zyIeL9BrYl6ukBmZ1XC6m9CIVARbUOpHQK/s4032/13.4.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5aXdM1XtixVWRXGl2bCKEh-0lngVIHl3EHKJ_01WWy3fLFKP2cv7lChbrP1ayN1F6G25W0Mft-lj4hyphenhyphenjWkzVLYQfEm-A2Wg8W1HiMetcBT2k8ugOX5_35KmUwD2yi0mD5fi4dc5tPRps5ZAdwh6PQ3XbH8zyIeL9BrYl6ukBmZ1XC6m9CIVARbUOpHQK/s320/13.4.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Shot of the Year: Evening in Astoria<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWOKKC_fkTI__2AWrRcUIxdPU6eAwIxxHrlY7XK14rEIaXjX-1h-HqQo_osmQWlSaSmlYX1bXEtaNn0PQbKfzOLVmameK-r0syvZyPEAG3ViHswoR_aumlgRCjTsZ70RRv73RLh5x2miViwDAdttjUQYdzxGGSmJ7yRml5PNYZVrbfJKhwOsR3bVqdrjNu/s3508/13.5.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3508" data-original-width="2392" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWOKKC_fkTI__2AWrRcUIxdPU6eAwIxxHrlY7XK14rEIaXjX-1h-HqQo_osmQWlSaSmlYX1bXEtaNn0PQbKfzOLVmameK-r0syvZyPEAG3ViHswoR_aumlgRCjTsZ70RRv73RLh5x2miViwDAdttjUQYdzxGGSmJ7yRml5PNYZVrbfJKhwOsR3bVqdrjNu/w437-h640/13.5.jpeg" width="437" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">What might unfold in 2024? Can’t wait to find out!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2023<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-48375172636568582042023-12-20T11:23:00.000-08:002023-12-20T11:43:38.001-08:00THE BARN COAT<p style="text-align: right;"> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; text-align: right;">…a retelling of an actual event…</span></p><div class="WordSection1" style="page: WordSection1;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCG0vlrkoqgtxEO7FDoo6Xltev3Wtn5Yme1pXytYbMEbg7l9KTYgYCZXRHYcU_rtalFDQVjlR72qlD7zSaMi1or2UCrBIPoz-3_fJZt8VwvA4kWphRiwNbPCKFYM3kQWN2h0yGl6N1rMMua9Sl_gTQKjTk-YJaCD-kxHj-O2O9QHnBleVmoeOx2y2cRW8S/s981/x1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="981" data-original-width="736" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCG0vlrkoqgtxEO7FDoo6Xltev3Wtn5Yme1pXytYbMEbg7l9KTYgYCZXRHYcU_rtalFDQVjlR72qlD7zSaMi1or2UCrBIPoz-3_fJZt8VwvA4kWphRiwNbPCKFYM3kQWN2h0yGl6N1rMMua9Sl_gTQKjTk-YJaCD-kxHj-O2O9QHnBleVmoeOx2y2cRW8S/s320/x1.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: 28px;">The green barn coat I’m wearing</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"> I’ve had through three or four moves; far longer than anything else in the closet. I’ve swaddled infant grandkids now enrolled in college in the old thing and comforted a dying black kitty in it for his last trip to the vet. I seem to recall purchasing it at an outdoor goods store adjacent to the Arcata town square. Last time I checked, the store was no longer there. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"> I bought the coat because Dad had a barn coat: a big blue denim garment that hung on him like a blanket. He wore his while doing chores out in the orchard in the winter: hacking suckers off almond trees or knocking down the winter grass with a disk pulled by an old Ford tractor. Never laundered, it carried the odor of everything he’d ever done in it – sweat, dust, Zerk grease from lubing the tractor, rancid pipe tobacco smoke. The aromatic essence of Dad.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"> My now-forty-year-old coat has a bit less history. I used to wear it while raking leaves in our suburban back yard, until I got too hot and steamy inside the thing. I’d drape it over a rhody or a rose bush and often forget it was there. Eventually we moved to a place with fewer leaves. I remember taking it camping – back when I was still comfortable sleeping on the ground – and let sweet and pungent campfire smoke wash over it. Haven’t felt like sleeping on the ground since I can’t remember when. Generally, it now simply hangs on a hook in the mud room to be worn only when there’s the rare outdoor winter chore and the weather’s really dank.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"> Made of heavy cotton canvas and lined with some sort of wool or flannel, the thread and woven practices that were employed when it was manufactured have been replaced by all manner of lighter more insularly efficient fabrics with labels from The North Face, Hi-Tek or Gerry. I was wearing one of those recycled soda pop bottle sweaters one night when, while sitting next to the fire, a log popped and a spark landed on my belly. Within seconds, the pleasant aroma of the Cohiba Robusto I’d been enjoying was overwhelmed by the chemical-rich odor of a refinery fire on my lap. I dropped the new age wrap on the ground, stomped out the ember and went inside the house to retrieve the barn coat. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: 28px;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: 28px;">Today was one of those last-minute</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;">-before-Christmas days when I needed to make the rounds downtown to pick up stocking stuffers that would garner a laugh and then end up in the kitchen junk drawer for eternity. I parked a block or two away from the main drag and, as I exited the car, snapped the top snap of the barn coat and pulled my felt hat down tight against my forehead. Passing through the town plaza – a meager space this time of year when the holiday lights are doused and the area is cloaked in a gray fog – one of the denizens there greeted me: “Merry Christmas, man.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"> Our homeless population is fairly small and quite benign, yet on many days, I’ll simply nod – maybe not even that – rather than further engage but, on this day, I responded, “And to yours.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhons-zJ8lvRfhKhxENN1XMo-La8BmLBBtasV7Pwm2E7Ix62qemq7lLsAtv_h-qlEYaWVTk_TAqf_0JQCRVkT5X98-wX8Xn1BP3igcnWQPD95gkBpLOl5zGOIhRMZkGLXbsQkO-yHE3EKxbIpegZmaPX5TrYEDcHOfkWW2bWGDyaVfG9jRUSoRbeYncx7Ma/s827/x2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="608" data-original-width="827" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhons-zJ8lvRfhKhxENN1XMo-La8BmLBBtasV7Pwm2E7Ix62qemq7lLsAtv_h-qlEYaWVTk_TAqf_0JQCRVkT5X98-wX8Xn1BP3igcnWQPD95gkBpLOl5zGOIhRMZkGLXbsQkO-yHE3EKxbIpegZmaPX5TrYEDcHOfkWW2bWGDyaVfG9jRUSoRbeYncx7Ma/s320/x2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">He roused a scraggly mongrel whose head had been resting on his lap, “This here’s all the mine I got.” The gent smiled a gap-toothed smile and rubbed the dog’s ears. “Had him the whole while.”</span><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “The whole while?”</span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"> “Yep. Ever since the rent went up.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"> I couldn’t help but stop.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"> “Damned rent went up and up, and with the drought and the pandemic, my lawn care business – cuttin’ grass, fixin’ sprinklers, takin’ out dandelions – sorta crapped out. Had me sixteen, sometimes twenty regular customers ‘fore they turned the water off.” The little dog licked at his fingers. “The wife and the boy moved in with her mom down to Stockton, but I thought I should stick by my clients if I could.” He offered a wry grin. “Didn’t work out all that well, I ‘spoze.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"> I thought about the money I was about to waste on triviata that would occupy the junk drawer. “Need anything?” I asked, reaching into my pocket.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"> “Honestly, man, nothing. Just a Merry Christmas from a passer-by.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"> His request was easy to grant and – holiday spirit and all – it made me feel good.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; line-height: 28px;">I hadn’t walked fifteen steps</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"> when the door to an office building opened and a well-dressed man stepped out. Shined shoes. Creased pants. Silk, I’m thinking, tie. “Happy holidays,” I said with a wave and a smile.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"> The man quickly glanced down and grunted something as he walked past.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"> As it so happened, the next business up the street was the little sundry store I’d planned on visiting. It was fronted with a plate glass window. Holiday goods were displayed on the other side of the glass, but they didn’t matter. What mattered was the reflection in the window. It was of a skinny, bearded older man in faded jeans with a slouch hat pulled low across his forehead – wrapped in a weary green barn coat. All that was missing was a scrawny little mixed breed cuddling in my arms.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;"> I turned back toward the square, but the homeless man and his dog were gone.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 20px;">© 2023<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 24px; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 20px;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p></div>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-80845854018021962172023-11-17T15:05:00.000-08:002023-11-17T15:24:43.350-08:00JIMMY LEE<p style="text-align: right;"> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; text-align: right;">… a new “Eden Indeed” recollection …</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Jimmy Lee</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> cleaned the old downtown post office in Chico before the new one was built on Vallombrosa Avenue. Dad stayed on to deliver the mail near downtown after the old building was renamed the Mid-Town Station. Jimmy stayed on to clean.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8jxvZxssxPmUZJ-b1vnFwDUA5K6aG1owwqAJAmGHeJHGf5hId6ctZnAx7qlAfrVfT4OPbBFJcp0CodKKThnGf3uOkM4UDoRYE7-nYhHXePkVh41-tLW1yTem0s0FB3Vwz5cAwiKmp4nce7g2LdUM_SYWw4QWXYcebGbxH3hfXXaqZySdoPcyNpVYlC9nn/s448/Jimmy.1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="244" data-original-width="448" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8jxvZxssxPmUZJ-b1vnFwDUA5K6aG1owwqAJAmGHeJHGf5hId6ctZnAx7qlAfrVfT4OPbBFJcp0CodKKThnGf3uOkM4UDoRYE7-nYhHXePkVh41-tLW1yTem0s0FB3Vwz5cAwiKmp4nce7g2LdUM_SYWw4QWXYcebGbxH3hfXXaqZySdoPcyNpVYlC9nn/s320/Jimmy.1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">As a nine-year-old, I didn’t know Jimmy very well. I do recall once going over to his tiny house positioned in the middle of a peach orchard near Sandy Gulch; an area that has since been sub-divided. We’d visited because Jimmy wanted to share some of his home made peach brandy with Dad. The formula for the concoction was something he’d picked up from his formerly enslaved grandpa back when Jimmy was a tad in Arkansas. The sip I took tasted sweet and fiery all at the same time. Dad brought some home in Mason jars and stored it in the cellar, but I don’t think he ever drank the stuff.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When I’d visit the Mid-Town to join up with Dad after his routes, the clerk would stamp my hands and arms with those rubber stamps that said things like “First Class” or “Via Air Mail” and send me, tattooed, to the back room where mail was sorted and thrown and where kids weren’t supposed to go. As Dad headed out the back door rubbing my burr-cut noggin, Jimmy pushed and twisted a wide dry mop sweeping cigarette ash, paper scraps and dust from under the sorting stations and across the slick concrete floor. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Have a good evening, Mistah Delgardo,” Jimmy would holler as we left. “And you,” he said to me, “you bettah wash them ink marks off’n your arm or your Dad might just decide to mail you off somewhere and I’d nevah get to see you agin.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">His words made me glow, but I thought it odd: Nobody ever called Dad “Mister Delgardo.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">One Friday</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">, after a week of wet and cold weather, I was snuck into the back room to discover Jimmy Lee absent.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Where’s Mr. Lee?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Dad explained. The Mid-Town was the place mail was left to be carried on the rural route up the Deer Creek Highway to Forest Ranch and points beyond. Occasionally the mountainous five-mile road to Butte Meadows and Jonesville was closed at Lomo Junction due to snow. The rural route carrier was stuck with mail he couldn’t deliver. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDC4d_Xvcg0HWvVWR9kaeCgYhMKC7-xwtElwYKLihroTwscdGUmfbK7H7MfWVzQ7tm5bxy95vTr5XRl6iuizyAbjreobNhW4oKwk-dBqTNZxKKV8UyOqqntP1dBRLIkt6UdS3sseWdh0na0lEowkma9z5sv8CSYK1htgCqpG9hpPpEC9ubZWE21awMXzBE/s1280/Jimmy.2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDC4d_Xvcg0HWvVWR9kaeCgYhMKC7-xwtElwYKLihroTwscdGUmfbK7H7MfWVzQ7tm5bxy95vTr5XRl6iuizyAbjreobNhW4oKwk-dBqTNZxKKV8UyOqqntP1dBRLIkt6UdS3sseWdh0na0lEowkma9z5sv8CSYK1htgCqpG9hpPpEC9ubZWE21awMXzBE/s320/Jimmy.2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">One day Jimmy was talking with the guys about a pair of snow skis he’d fashioned out of some hardwood or other and used ‘em when it snowed in the Ozarks. Overhearing this, the postmaster asked Jimmy if he’d like to try his hand at delivering the mail to Butte Meadows when the road was closed. He jumped at the chance. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Eventually – but only when the weather had turned cold and sloppy and snowy up the hill – the Mid-Town Station would not get swept out, because the “ask” had become an expectation, rather like a demand. This had been one of those weeks.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Dad explained all this adding, “Jimmy Lee knows his place.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">My father</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> was anything but racist. He adored Leontyne Price’s soprano. Dad sympathized with the famed baritone Paul Robeson as he left the country. He knew Satchel Page should have been in the majors and Willie Mays was worth every penny. He applauded as Roger Mudd reported on the Civil Rights Act of 1964 being signed by the President – I remember there being tears in his eyes – and the voting rights act a year later. Dad, without Mom, attended the local Unitarian Church and often hosted that group’s pastor – a black man and his son – at our table for dinner. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPsw3xkHcN_pTxMHEqGr58iBuJczmWNdCTwnegbEiQf8299KTVw8MbDFOgAyA7X1a3Dkzg0jTb7MHb28ynp6tJvGH1_QSeL3zYOqDXKuxGn62i7-LrTznqEqIXSBBQjYVJj8M5kOMVqbZcpFoYV8Q2rbUTzp9NDHoiOYfUrGiSAc7-oclqUbhy42nkshi/s1600/Jimmy.3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1600" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPsw3xkHcN_pTxMHEqGr58iBuJczmWNdCTwnegbEiQf8299KTVw8MbDFOgAyA7X1a3Dkzg0jTb7MHb28ynp6tJvGH1_QSeL3zYOqDXKuxGn62i7-LrTznqEqIXSBBQjYVJj8M5kOMVqbZcpFoYV8Q2rbUTzp9NDHoiOYfUrGiSAc7-oclqUbhy42nkshi/s320/Jimmy.3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Mom was appalled. She more than once voiced, “What will the neighbors think?” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">She, a child of deep south Houston Texas in the 20s and 30s saw nothing wrong with referring to little black kids from the poorer side of town as “picaninnies.” She also called the bubbles that float atop a mud puddle “nigger babies.” As a kid growing up in the 60s, I somehow grew past thinking that such terminology okay. Maybe somebody once boxed my ears. At any rate, Mom didn’t know any better and Dad, when it came to maintaining a harmonious relationship on the home front, was wise enough – or timid enough – just to not say anything. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Jimmy Lee</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> was a genuine man. A good man. A friendly and honest man. From my nine-year-old point of view I thought him a man willing to accept any challenge – someone to look up to. The relationships among those at the Mid-Town Station were honed by upbringings from the era when the Civil War was still less than a life-time distant. People’s biases were sadly acceptable. Jimmy operated in that world. So did my father, I guess.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Reflecting many, many times on Dad’s off-handed “Jimmy Lee knows his place” comment, I’d like to think that had Dad grown up in the 60s, he never would have said such a thing as an adult. Dad wasn’t racist. He just didn’t know any better.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgplhG1mYV9YBRcEKguczN37nYTt1mE4MQnbfDTBhfJuCnH7qzLsKdwNfe8HCyNlcnwqALOP1-sOcxGg6QpYLn3sS5U_fkeYInP-kIfb8BJ2lFNxkBg1U1w-9ihzgEilCiGUTBmq_9d1k43AgFDAkPODKF5TL7EZ7Eu1rOTJYDGSNfYuj1YCX24nfTJ9kmx/s500/Jimmy.4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="500" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgplhG1mYV9YBRcEKguczN37nYTt1mE4MQnbfDTBhfJuCnH7qzLsKdwNfe8HCyNlcnwqALOP1-sOcxGg6QpYLn3sS5U_fkeYInP-kIfb8BJ2lFNxkBg1U1w-9ihzgEilCiGUTBmq_9d1k43AgFDAkPODKF5TL7EZ7Eu1rOTJYDGSNfYuj1YCX24nfTJ9kmx/s320/Jimmy.4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">And reflecting back on Jimmy Lee, I’ve always sorta wondered if he carried a flask of his peach brandy on those snow-bound delivery trips to Butte Meadows. You know – to keep himself warm.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2023<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-5733087609874056782023-05-25T19:18:00.014-07:002023-05-26T20:26:51.069-07:00MAKE WAY FOR THE DUCKLING<p> <i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">First impressions of my ’22 V85tt Travel</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAq7NTz7k65GEO9ETaFNIrBLUpXEMFk1LhnmOKPlI9XfbZB6JReJUXipofJ-C3Wmw2suebkR4A91v6jpWDIm7H7UhUYiDl3quoChZwHvgtBf3-SibktkbvMzCphdUbR4augssdGqksmUh047xXiNH4a5z74VM1mLZZd5a-0Xavuq53PFoK3G_z-WYVig/s4032/1.0.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAq7NTz7k65GEO9ETaFNIrBLUpXEMFk1LhnmOKPlI9XfbZB6JReJUXipofJ-C3Wmw2suebkR4A91v6jpWDIm7H7UhUYiDl3quoChZwHvgtBf3-SibktkbvMzCphdUbR4augssdGqksmUh047xXiNH4a5z74VM1mLZZd5a-0Xavuq53PFoK3G_z-WYVig/s320/1.0.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">A couple of years ago</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">, I rashly decided I was through with long-distance multi-night touring. Better to hop in the Subaru with my wife and the dog (now deceased) and do life’s highway that way. Shortly thereafter, I received bad news as the result of a PSA test. Prostate Cancer. I knew I was gonna die. (But, obviously, I didn’t.) Still, in that moment, I decided to take a bath on my Yamaha Super Tenere and trade it for what still strikes me as the most beautiful retro-roadster then or now on the market: a 2021 Moto Guzzi V7 Special in blue.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl7VURB6hyvzAFx4Tyj_s-qBb8kGwl0ITYZgDrsFEjTI-MANmOawkNW9N4_ZS1pUdyAlWY5ozrFkXQdlqzQZzofEvhLj3Pnji65QtYR-PHXf0aA4yW-p2SKUFkkbfhbNrhoufeRx0uvcYqdV2mN2yALvTFh4tEHE3i-f1mEwmbAOME1eBDyjX6WzpgmA/s2509/2.0.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1682" data-original-width="2509" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl7VURB6hyvzAFx4Tyj_s-qBb8kGwl0ITYZgDrsFEjTI-MANmOawkNW9N4_ZS1pUdyAlWY5ozrFkXQdlqzQZzofEvhLj3Pnji65QtYR-PHXf0aA4yW-p2SKUFkkbfhbNrhoufeRx0uvcYqdV2mN2yALvTFh4tEHE3i-f1mEwmbAOME1eBDyjX6WzpgmA/s320/2.0.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Then I found out I wasn’t gonna die of Prostate Cancer. And I found I still yearned for a day or three of long rides punctuated by a couple of nights on the road. So, I took another bath and purchased the V85. Great ride. Nice looking enough, but no V7 Special in blue. Students of Hans Christian Andersen will ‘get’ why I’ve named the Travel model the “Duckling.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjX38oblmfguceCiaRsw8WMXuUQd7RqmJTKOC7qSfD05AElz4tzDkZo-gHzLpNgpE7eUD6E_m9gshq3uOH3xmH9ixTO4M4Hv8BZBcoaR2cbz4tQNMRFv6wXlBQEJYkktkDvmqA2bHuqbr88Zy3O-U4_11NwAH_vUPipv-wmoTnChxSB_mNOIR3TVbu-ww" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3540" data-original-width="3024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjX38oblmfguceCiaRsw8WMXuUQd7RqmJTKOC7qSfD05AElz4tzDkZo-gHzLpNgpE7eUD6E_m9gshq3uOH3xmH9ixTO4M4Hv8BZBcoaR2cbz4tQNMRFv6wXlBQEJYkktkDvmqA2bHuqbr88Zy3O-U4_11NwAH_vUPipv-wmoTnChxSB_mNOIR3TVbu-ww" width="205" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">With only fifty miles on the clock, I set off for one of those protracted who-knows-where rides. A layer of overcast was sure to melt away, but if it didn’t, I packed layers. Northern Sonoma County (California) is a treasure trove of great roads that wind through redwoods and vineyards, over mountain ridges and into fertile farmlands, into the state’s interior or out to the Pacific. There are no wrong choices on a spring morning.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFJX7qqP9y_jozL2m-d224qDI3msbtd3xX0hTgFUNpszTG9jAkBZ06TWSBLRTKjzHO3SiFBp9I2qRFQKBHOuQXy6Z7PqTu8o8Q_MZvTaAV9IGHYDQ2qZsOcDsisVeFEH5gwqy6HP6Q2ZI51661FHxT0ENy7Bfyu44-4KlLBX656Klj-YfppGMr_Pl1eA/s4032/4.0.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFJX7qqP9y_jozL2m-d224qDI3msbtd3xX0hTgFUNpszTG9jAkBZ06TWSBLRTKjzHO3SiFBp9I2qRFQKBHOuQXy6Z7PqTu8o8Q_MZvTaAV9IGHYDQ2qZsOcDsisVeFEH5gwqy6HP6Q2ZI51661FHxT0ENy7Bfyu44-4KlLBX656Klj-YfppGMr_Pl1eA/s320/4.0.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Heading north</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">, I parallel US 101 on a country road through Mendocino’s Sanal Valley. Six weeks into bud break, the leaves on row upon row of vines look like a carpet of green backed by hillsides just beginning to turn golden. River Road is a pleasant blend of curves and straights that allow me to honor the break-in rules on the new 850cc engine: avoid singular RPMs. A bright amber banner flared atop the TFT if I over revved things, which, on this road, why would I?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">North of Ukiah came a first choice: Head east into Lake County with its roads twisting around volcanic residue and along the shore of California’s largest natural lake, or head north and see what other choices availed themselves. The latter choice finds me in Willits, taking a westward bent on CA 20 crossing the tracks of the California Western and heading toward Fort Bragg.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0hxvWR6jKxHFeDh3nX0m1HR_eSDSvSvDKy1e5Ruqul0bKLCia6C9oAVowj-ucSm9QMcA08YVTyCeFUgKbhIb9W-oNLfmDuex0bmoPM5T8wS4EbayJHIy803P6ysoSMxH1LibzBOEl1N_ALzFGL_bkUIHJHYo-QF4-_I2PtIhxFkNkvKi7ENhOX9L7OA/s3739/5.0.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3739" data-original-width="2296" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0hxvWR6jKxHFeDh3nX0m1HR_eSDSvSvDKy1e5Ruqul0bKLCia6C9oAVowj-ucSm9QMcA08YVTyCeFUgKbhIb9W-oNLfmDuex0bmoPM5T8wS4EbayJHIy803P6ysoSMxH1LibzBOEl1N_ALzFGL_bkUIHJHYo-QF4-_I2PtIhxFkNkvKi7ENhOX9L7OA/s320/5.0.jpeg" width="197" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">CA 20 is a thirty-three miles ride from hell in the back of a ’63 Ford Fairlane Ranchwagon, especially when the way-back seat faces the rear. But on any bike I’ve ever owned, it is a pure joy. Nice pavement courses through pasturelands and into redwood forests with the occasional shaft of sunlight splitting the canopy. Tight curves and sometimes too much traffic, but not this day.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOZUjzqntmkh3KaND930IjTBGArwL-snUhhvIeVp_aZnlzKN0dK5vnXVB_tbyDk8bsibVNPXLgMRmnqdsUWlRPH7aouxOL6K1FneZ2zWJmxKJQ5TaVkkV8V9qsL4sjsmCliUZYA0zFHGk2jvJDwjGhKPB0AkSQdMiO2zZ3ivVyjHljcAypDzHgDBGNBA/s4032/6.0.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOZUjzqntmkh3KaND930IjTBGArwL-snUhhvIeVp_aZnlzKN0dK5vnXVB_tbyDk8bsibVNPXLgMRmnqdsUWlRPH7aouxOL6K1FneZ2zWJmxKJQ5TaVkkV8V9qsL4sjsmCliUZYA0zFHGk2jvJDwjGhKPB0AkSQdMiO2zZ3ivVyjHljcAypDzHgDBGNBA/s320/6.0.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Perhaps the best fish n chips</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I’ve found in my travels, I’ve found at Silver’s by the Wharf at Noyo Harbor on the south edge of Fort Bragg. The lunch I enjoyed, I’m sure was swimming in the waters below the restaurant at about 6 AM this morning. It was that fresh. And it always is. The view of the water is superb and a glass of Sauv Blanc would have been nice, but I was riding and the wine would have to wait.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNJL6awBea2QwmB3k3VXzRNpbq5Zq3fyq-HpjAxS37_SjFPsdU2s6tLuVSDuClyAAFfuO03qkDtrHpP2B0GAADmpyM8bqZYJ0yCYqU2lDzFlWGL-HYSVHDFa2r-jFr7UAfUIa6KbA6ZoaAq8Osw3d8uZu_Rq5AwYy2w3o39kA-CKCsbUp6UUS1utZoig/s3092/7.0.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3092" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNJL6awBea2QwmB3k3VXzRNpbq5Zq3fyq-HpjAxS37_SjFPsdU2s6tLuVSDuClyAAFfuO03qkDtrHpP2B0GAADmpyM8bqZYJ0yCYqU2lDzFlWGL-HYSVHDFa2r-jFr7UAfUIa6KbA6ZoaAq8Osw3d8uZu_Rq5AwYy2w3o39kA-CKCsbUp6UUS1utZoig/s320/7.0.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Now: north or south</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> on the vaunted Pacific Coast Highway. Again, there are no bad choices, but the little berg of Mendocino, and the headlands there by are always a treat. Town this day was unusually packed for a Thursday before Memorial Day, so I opted to simply drive through keeping a wary eye out for tourists focusing more on the surging Pacific than some random guy on a V85tt. The pickup that backed out in front of me bore a bumper sticker that read “Look twice for Motorcycles.” I figure he must have only looked once.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgzz1lCIJZ1Nu36UkcX9OQrxuKGhKibV-PY5PPESZkyDu-e7D6dlDcHw4Yn2cCp9M0gAV0OmhHZiBG6f79PL2dWY3-ECUO6kKxIadQkTJzcOgQSgwVuHiBo9_yxFvTHO1Hs0cBF-MIrelV1UHyixGsvBcfqkByauYjAXH9R3QDH9EXc8halGulIQVqqBw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgzz1lCIJZ1Nu36UkcX9OQrxuKGhKibV-PY5PPESZkyDu-e7D6dlDcHw4Yn2cCp9M0gAV0OmhHZiBG6f79PL2dWY3-ECUO6kKxIadQkTJzcOgQSgwVuHiBo9_yxFvTHO1Hs0cBF-MIrelV1UHyixGsvBcfqkByauYjAXH9R3QDH9EXc8halGulIQVqqBw" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">CA 1 is a delight that cannot be over-enjoyed. Each time I ride it is like the first time. The weather is always changing. The light. The time of day. The smell of someone’s woodburning fireplace or the beached kelp fermenting in the ocean air. Again, great pavement makes the process a joy and the ins and outs and ups and downs make each view of the surf or the prairie or the introductory hills of the Coast Range a marvel. Light traffic. Light fog. Put on that layer.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY5WyO6jPArW6zxf7S4bVICnMM0rtT7svOoqDBi8mR6xtnS5THObILlV_otSDzW7PCCnyXfZSoDAlSQN0vh1DSZtXgqpmaev5yncGIEtl1Q5zPxkEk4tBJ8TKtyaoam7Oh7moj2V6U0agmdGBufCvNuwb5bDQaQSeboqdYFk201bRFl_-rsSubKoyTdw/s4032/9.0.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY5WyO6jPArW6zxf7S4bVICnMM0rtT7svOoqDBi8mR6xtnS5THObILlV_otSDzW7PCCnyXfZSoDAlSQN0vh1DSZtXgqpmaev5yncGIEtl1Q5zPxkEk4tBJ8TKtyaoam7Oh7moj2V6U0agmdGBufCvNuwb5bDQaQSeboqdYFk201bRFl_-rsSubKoyTdw/s320/9.0.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The V85 shifts effortlessly, never missing a cog. Whatever tires they put on this sample like the pavement, grip the curves, and stop with aplomb. I’m noting that the cockpit space better fits my 33-34” inseam better than that lovely Special did. The windscreen keeps the blast off my chest but not my Shoei. Not sure if a modification will be in the offing. Let’s get a few thousand on the thing before we do anything rash.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrR6zy3cvaxtB5TsqlTcSq9pONEAII9juv6_VkaK5dOgS4CXj6XoRjMINANtp_Q_qFfE8BeSTCoTQHfpZkNUkWgy3yMSdwFGR6aJvLunlrtbqk1TUnGduVnrE9hOABtVJD0iyXTSebO8CtDfrKvAXazY1LLhVNscESovk3ahY3yvCamf2Y3VIWDzAzog/s4032/10.0.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrR6zy3cvaxtB5TsqlTcSq9pONEAII9juv6_VkaK5dOgS4CXj6XoRjMINANtp_Q_qFfE8BeSTCoTQHfpZkNUkWgy3yMSdwFGR6aJvLunlrtbqk1TUnGduVnrE9hOABtVJD0iyXTSebO8CtDfrKvAXazY1LLhVNscESovk3ahY3yvCamf2Y3VIWDzAzog/s320/10.0.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">The rugged coast is a delight</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">. One can easily imagine the issues surround the transport of harvested redwood to markets in San Francisco Bay prior to the advent of the diesel truck. Fishing boats bob out there just this side of the curtain of marine layer. A great bridge crosses at Albion. A wonderful little market rests in Elk. There’s an ATM with my credit union’s name on it in Point Arena and I need some cash.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX8TgsLyU9vaVjDuACwRF4q32fVGGNnmERIpa8EPnWZNw9aN4sCWHq3mztHhwKw14gXo1z5611FB2zdFU-NyNreVxtzIUk-jgnnIYRA8zAO_IR5L5KsPkgUz1qbP2PX2yLcBqVRWtEnehEbjhzQoZf0D6L9_CCDiFMpQrZslDBMhov88Q5p0Y2i5IMfg/s4032/11.0.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX8TgsLyU9vaVjDuACwRF4q32fVGGNnmERIpa8EPnWZNw9aN4sCWHq3mztHhwKw14gXo1z5611FB2zdFU-NyNreVxtzIUk-jgnnIYRA8zAO_IR5L5KsPkgUz1qbP2PX2yLcBqVRWtEnehEbjhzQoZf0D6L9_CCDiFMpQrZslDBMhov88Q5p0Y2i5IMfg/s320/11.0.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Skipping the lighthouse this time, I head south through the Sea Ranch development. This massive subdivision, though nicely laid out, prompted enough concern that California formed a Coastal Commission to ensure fewer miles of our shoreline would be subjected to development. About halfway through, I take the turnoff east toward Annapolis, a lovely winegrowing, formerly lumber producing hamlet tucked into the hills about seven miles from the coast. I pass through ‘town’ about the time school is getting out.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNUGiEYi06xRH21IvsuULVGGw7kW_ZoI_Gr1iy3JJNebgdo_2N4z4j6VFMUA7L6yTiuZd3ubEkVwcrM4CClB7l5RT3qbCF4G6duF4uUAXv2mMSn4IbHa-ugKXpySb50S14-ZJkj-2fSFLLizhpGwOZGHCk1wK21ORnN3n1OvbI_IIHdJQMMKbg0rKIyA/s4032/12.0.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNUGiEYi06xRH21IvsuULVGGw7kW_ZoI_Gr1iy3JJNebgdo_2N4z4j6VFMUA7L6yTiuZd3ubEkVwcrM4CClB7l5RT3qbCF4G6duF4uUAXv2mMSn4IbHa-ugKXpySb50S14-ZJkj-2fSFLLizhpGwOZGHCk1wK21ORnN3n1OvbI_IIHdJQMMKbg0rKIyA/s320/12.0.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Venturing on, just past a circa 1922 steel bridge, Annapolis Road tees into the Stewart’s Point-Skaggs Springs route. This road has a thousand curves and the westernmost portion can be single lane at washed out places. Toward Healdsburg, though the road is a mecca for sports bikers with sweeping curves and some of those magical views where you see a portion of the road you’re going to be riding on the opposite ridge. What a delight.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Passing the Warm Springs Dam that embargos Lake Sonoma, I am only fifteen miles from home through the scenic Dry Creek viticulture region. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUZKV1gl9pcwTMy6U_Jq58oEBZ_0eRsVspOQYiP67TtZ2pwNzoPkJkJAXSZ04FKls2U-RN0JbTDNhg-cQesp733x0GMEBhAiepXmu9bgAJrI2MkpECN-TFE6r_LltXTlNYM5HdgaIt2PADcha_tvpfl3LyfLSZjjYu6s8QHDCEIC7Ms9_a3hPlcv0wWQ/s4032/13.0.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2484" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUZKV1gl9pcwTMy6U_Jq58oEBZ_0eRsVspOQYiP67TtZ2pwNzoPkJkJAXSZ04FKls2U-RN0JbTDNhg-cQesp733x0GMEBhAiepXmu9bgAJrI2MkpECN-TFE6r_LltXTlNYM5HdgaIt2PADcha_tvpfl3LyfLSZjjYu6s8QHDCEIC7Ms9_a3hPlcv0wWQ/s320/13.0.jpeg" width="197" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">210 miles on</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">, I’m convinced there will be more long rides and some over-nights in my future astride the Duckling.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2023<o:p></o:p></span></p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press</span>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-30310170441433823102022-12-29T15:38:00.000-08:002022-12-29T16:28:42.387-08:002022: THE CHURCH OF THE OPEN ROAD’S YEAR IN REVIEW<p style="text-align: right;"> <i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Pandemic in the rearview mirror? Maybe. Maybe not.</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Let’s start with a view of Northern California’s queen…</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdUcZxz9wiLKDRExZDujzwcvg0OY0HrbbHF284UEAIYvvBCvPhHuVE2sBFIYsYX7FH_eHohlQYA87LxRXfaJJms07Z8LK6C8b465tZX53sFFzi13hMdJbQ1FYpVAZmJWAT3XpIcp-q4DHg0v7fnFsob6B_gNYR_P-lJ7BK8re-fbV1IguXuLDcZMOOlA/s3807/2022.01.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2420" data-original-width="3807" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdUcZxz9wiLKDRExZDujzwcvg0OY0HrbbHF284UEAIYvvBCvPhHuVE2sBFIYsYX7FH_eHohlQYA87LxRXfaJJms07Z8LK6C8b465tZX53sFFzi13hMdJbQ1FYpVAZmJWAT3XpIcp-q4DHg0v7fnFsob6B_gNYR_P-lJ7BK8re-fbV1IguXuLDcZMOOlA/w400-h254/2022.01.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…and a Siskiyou County winter scene.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIxy6qVRczKAB0u-doUVoMg8UTQowLf6xovPWTMK0CdpYuXtnbEYh6Q3wrgu0hy9DwdgwFZ9_GMe7kMQCitMuFpwob2nSDG-63qFGCYM_lpUF2zYfpo3Z8m0buMx4tUZVGJZkLTgWIFrAE280cSjNrrimvCA4L-YlQ01mkQkxQvewH5s_bJb3h5DiUwQ/s4032/2022.02.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIxy6qVRczKAB0u-doUVoMg8UTQowLf6xovPWTMK0CdpYuXtnbEYh6Q3wrgu0hy9DwdgwFZ9_GMe7kMQCitMuFpwob2nSDG-63qFGCYM_lpUF2zYfpo3Z8m0buMx4tUZVGJZkLTgWIFrAE280cSjNrrimvCA4L-YlQ01mkQkxQvewH5s_bJb3h5DiUwQ/w400-h300/2022.02.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Here’s a reminder that the (one and <i>only</i> one) good thing about a prolonged drought is that you can ride year round.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3aHDtQoJ8SOCbWcb7ssW41PxGSXo9nhZgQ0cl9rGleGt5IyCvmRD4tWjr_FyHaivt5QliGHNSZbvFoXmRGJU-Zs6Gg_J1dXW22OXfGykXyBEUHMUjaSMlQxV-FRzzqRO7UN0n5aaFlvoqoak2Hvp0NXcRpYGsa6hWaae_CBnzohFYYgcPC_GLNnsJhw/s4032/2022.03.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3aHDtQoJ8SOCbWcb7ssW41PxGSXo9nhZgQ0cl9rGleGt5IyCvmRD4tWjr_FyHaivt5QliGHNSZbvFoXmRGJU-Zs6Gg_J1dXW22OXfGykXyBEUHMUjaSMlQxV-FRzzqRO7UN0n5aaFlvoqoak2Hvp0NXcRpYGsa6hWaae_CBnzohFYYgcPC_GLNnsJhw/w300-h400/2022.03.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">A February trip to the Mendocino/Sonoma Coast…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCyLDVWZ8eLLkSVLI5T6GcqWOBY2ecB8FJbfltgXlz3ravcp9iCZpUQvb8idfacCVpRKedX8os7YUbl1elf4fu6feFDLdxBuBtkx0qUfZkNeN6pDIroxGCe4_KSo8V05GWM-0AJj2OHSA-iRmWY3YYmbVkfn44x2c9mXQTVWJfBX7zFjJdImFntIQV8w/s4592/2022.04.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3448" data-original-width="4592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCyLDVWZ8eLLkSVLI5T6GcqWOBY2ecB8FJbfltgXlz3ravcp9iCZpUQvb8idfacCVpRKedX8os7YUbl1elf4fu6feFDLdxBuBtkx0qUfZkNeN6pDIroxGCe4_KSo8V05GWM-0AJj2OHSA-iRmWY3YYmbVkfn44x2c9mXQTVWJfBX7zFjJdImFntIQV8w/w400-h300/2022.04.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…to spot some passing whales.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-DC4qt6A9OrlgmATlTW5BOcbNQn81EZZ0PNUyLibCuNe9B4g3Yvg-DqAIThcIl9-xFm9_SEkqlIXpBRalIh1V4T49hoCQxL-dpFxNU_O8JdTl4Ban_0-_vuDt1YCoPdE-YsDyW9e5SMYzPooMMyyF_EGWKP3dy4OeFsWi0CNW7yeb2QgwsK1XDwB5Q/s4592/2022.05.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3448" data-original-width="4592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-DC4qt6A9OrlgmATlTW5BOcbNQn81EZZ0PNUyLibCuNe9B4g3Yvg-DqAIThcIl9-xFm9_SEkqlIXpBRalIh1V4T49hoCQxL-dpFxNU_O8JdTl4Ban_0-_vuDt1YCoPdE-YsDyW9e5SMYzPooMMyyF_EGWKP3dy4OeFsWi0CNW7yeb2QgwsK1XDwB5Q/w400-h300/2022.05.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">A month-of-March fog slips across the Sonoma Coastal prairie.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAevXyL6_pKzORUPDascH-n6l0wqvQqCT9z5d306RbemSNzcr14CobKgCkbhGEwwkH9C0npVtZUtPSm8EBqj9yAH4kYFVMYoseZi8QcVdN1xCj_VYKXFtuk5E6VKzoorQadKu73AWDx0lJ6303ftCgEyHyJr-fUqaROdAVNQ10SR7O5cen2DyZuuwI8Q/s10638/2022.06.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3804" data-original-width="10638" height="143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAevXyL6_pKzORUPDascH-n6l0wqvQqCT9z5d306RbemSNzcr14CobKgCkbhGEwwkH9C0npVtZUtPSm8EBqj9yAH4kYFVMYoseZi8QcVdN1xCj_VYKXFtuk5E6VKzoorQadKu73AWDx0lJ6303ftCgEyHyJr-fUqaROdAVNQ10SR7O5cen2DyZuuwI8Q/w400-h143/2022.06.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Austin Creek redwoods rebound after last year’s fires.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihtDukrFOKERfFUZZEbCA2e3GbR7wdqzAUHjLviBByy3IHkikYRW2f_CUpPALV68c-HGsmlpVmBGzZdt9N0fa1WwuvFytFHVmrQ-3yEM9RICnEmSqKcYIm9vWaa7I2ljAW-7pV1Y61Sh56NCXfK8sWDtORsZzqBDQni5walTbriaMNVj5AA1fvZqy2Ng/s4032/2022.07.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihtDukrFOKERfFUZZEbCA2e3GbR7wdqzAUHjLviBByy3IHkikYRW2f_CUpPALV68c-HGsmlpVmBGzZdt9N0fa1WwuvFytFHVmrQ-3yEM9RICnEmSqKcYIm9vWaa7I2ljAW-7pV1Y61Sh56NCXfK8sWDtORsZzqBDQni5walTbriaMNVj5AA1fvZqy2Ng/w400-h300/2022.07.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Late March and still no rain.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwk2wHiCMEkXJSnPifZmA3r9tJuMti1MXAa9ZPt7QMw2BmZW7KGK0xHpCZ3g-uyQnIu_C88l0o2oRdAmXyvUtDGy3OBO5jNQz2dz9ZhDIq4ZudbDNddYWk9zpdFOZnhjImnneACeKddOhMB3ZLUZyAaXBxyZpc-SZHIEYV5OCzZe6LGYEdTp5GhUDiyQ/s4026/2022.08.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2806" data-original-width="4026" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwk2wHiCMEkXJSnPifZmA3r9tJuMti1MXAa9ZPt7QMw2BmZW7KGK0xHpCZ3g-uyQnIu_C88l0o2oRdAmXyvUtDGy3OBO5jNQz2dz9ZhDIq4ZudbDNddYWk9zpdFOZnhjImnneACeKddOhMB3ZLUZyAaXBxyZpc-SZHIEYV5OCzZe6LGYEdTp5GhUDiyQ/w400-h279/2022.08.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">An April visitor.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_APIJQVJ9BlmdfrPnjvN8WDCjr-IaL6SUTFoiZDPbENEFCZ6rz0DJJZ4pLapbnS2mVNlu-AhR01PmTLXo4nC9aowuhJYVoAYgUglud5xwXnyVUWxDGPPgDaRyjYwLlIT3YMHBYQKi29E7yXoApy7BvNoE17fFJK6StLVgaPOBuI0oShCzVFL-04MzCw/s2993/2022.09.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2583" data-original-width="2993" height="345" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_APIJQVJ9BlmdfrPnjvN8WDCjr-IaL6SUTFoiZDPbENEFCZ6rz0DJJZ4pLapbnS2mVNlu-AhR01PmTLXo4nC9aowuhJYVoAYgUglud5xwXnyVUWxDGPPgDaRyjYwLlIT3YMHBYQKi29E7yXoApy7BvNoE17fFJK6StLVgaPOBuI0oShCzVFL-04MzCw/w400-h345/2022.09.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">A visit to the remote reaches of the Eel…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikDvYQ0-8eOcnahp_pumTgyeACPr9yOV3Iyi0TEs5kLR7AEDnOp6YWu9iy4-5xxYz1zfi1Z2mgjEoEc_5jDIPZ2sT8OHvJyjJCBsOrHLY371uvQtdT1dEu38XXsw4pffFPGsv2ckE2URJxG7Aa3ddV2mQqX0_1EBA8sx2q6YOITTz7Hyi1KrAq5BlDCw/s4592/2022.10.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3448" data-original-width="4592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikDvYQ0-8eOcnahp_pumTgyeACPr9yOV3Iyi0TEs5kLR7AEDnOp6YWu9iy4-5xxYz1zfi1Z2mgjEoEc_5jDIPZ2sT8OHvJyjJCBsOrHLY371uvQtdT1dEu38XXsw4pffFPGsv2ckE2URJxG7Aa3ddV2mQqX0_1EBA8sx2q6YOITTz7Hyi1KrAq5BlDCw/w400-h300/2022.10.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…where nameless roads must lead somewhere.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMO-0SiZmvCpYUCynKBBXRy45lEx5f06SNBpfNARbojt57oAoPZh5HbgkaSg8RtAq-LulbCM_sLg_TuIQcu7q-whnrBUC5YMR3zlNCBpfSW9AGz0_9512OybuM2_SoCxElCq756k-jBXTqIk46tahIS69_MG465wzDsDc5ynfS7nBrzh3-QJSpPvEOwQ/s4530/2022.11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2356" data-original-width="4530" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMO-0SiZmvCpYUCynKBBXRy45lEx5f06SNBpfNARbojt57oAoPZh5HbgkaSg8RtAq-LulbCM_sLg_TuIQcu7q-whnrBUC5YMR3zlNCBpfSW9AGz0_9512OybuM2_SoCxElCq756k-jBXTqIk46tahIS69_MG465wzDsDc5ynfS7nBrzh3-QJSpPvEOwQ/w400-h208/2022.11.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Photo-shout-out to the people of Ukraine.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvwB470ngKB06ez911Y_NfjXXUfw9xWj57sayw2VxcjJbWuzvGuhBUBxoWcFCgsv3614jq3ereYvykNQxZ2RVCyuvFEzU1cXQIGi_-amV6tESzMFUVtM6oKNLdh7y2kSbUSxfHStJUIXtxSxnYBYB23OZEPxUBEt5ndq_EaefqxB3swl8jj7qMGD26pw/s4531/2022.12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2032" data-original-width="4531" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvwB470ngKB06ez911Y_NfjXXUfw9xWj57sayw2VxcjJbWuzvGuhBUBxoWcFCgsv3614jq3ereYvykNQxZ2RVCyuvFEzU1cXQIGi_-amV6tESzMFUVtM6oKNLdh7y2kSbUSxfHStJUIXtxSxnYBYB23OZEPxUBEt5ndq_EaefqxB3swl8jj7qMGD26pw/w400-h180/2022.12.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The coast being so near, we visit often. This here’s Point Arena.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFVhBViDBQtfwk9cRC9TOZTePzo1nfQMWM0oA_GEQVjQSpkPh2nU4WJfOZL88w9RUvN-edKmnrnW2jzpMWBoX8ZuitW2d1VbitP6ei2rfPwr6693heu4jvkO4lp1dtaq6nDIESrmptCbt_Isu4udaf_RgDssh9ftM7GAgeWzBGmHyPLp-JKsWkDCuftA/s4032/2022.13.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFVhBViDBQtfwk9cRC9TOZTePzo1nfQMWM0oA_GEQVjQSpkPh2nU4WJfOZL88w9RUvN-edKmnrnW2jzpMWBoX8ZuitW2d1VbitP6ei2rfPwr6693heu4jvkO4lp1dtaq6nDIESrmptCbt_Isu4udaf_RgDssh9ftM7GAgeWzBGmHyPLp-JKsWkDCuftA/w400-h300/2022.13.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Project!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihriI7haLY97_h5voZoix4jDfBru-NbI1Y4ko3OKTEIeZa9EzR-RlcypPQ5VD6qaC0Z-hoI60l9U53OAgl2GoVhuLcY1kC3etolD-hkE71V4iTbOmCyJ8_8Im_A_cOhLM7t5VrYixIUAWOTiEj5B-wnC5sOlkHVZ5rP6Tcykl4FKwjQj8zyjPXKjoYXA/s4032/2022.14a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihriI7haLY97_h5voZoix4jDfBru-NbI1Y4ko3OKTEIeZa9EzR-RlcypPQ5VD6qaC0Z-hoI60l9U53OAgl2GoVhuLcY1kC3etolD-hkE71V4iTbOmCyJ8_8Im_A_cOhLM7t5VrYixIUAWOTiEj5B-wnC5sOlkHVZ5rP6Tcykl4FKwjQj8zyjPXKjoYXA/s320/2022.14a.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFAPlVuSGFkX9H14VXVeVEM9ENPRrv5niAEGyZx2jkZpZ--tSNGJ1FEB6Ni7nJWDyZJE33mWAYNsbl68Z2Y_JTHZhafQefR16cxJ1pHnpgar-rkEfMTO1vP2EnZ0D8EpHYs67rnbn79ITxxMv2qpFp6XeuUFWzs3THrVn1ARres-EnBU3DobUfL_ImAQ/s3274/2022.14b.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2652" data-original-width="3274" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFAPlVuSGFkX9H14VXVeVEM9ENPRrv5niAEGyZx2jkZpZ--tSNGJ1FEB6Ni7nJWDyZJE33mWAYNsbl68Z2Y_JTHZhafQefR16cxJ1pHnpgar-rkEfMTO1vP2EnZ0D8EpHYs67rnbn79ITxxMv2qpFp6XeuUFWzs3THrVn1ARres-EnBU3DobUfL_ImAQ/s320/2022.14b.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Final visit to a dear friend’s home.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3UrNg2F8cQ10hy1ap9bZvsdkCox3uqyPrV4nZk327pmuK-YOfoTEQLh9ZzDEoKmaZAk5un8aHS--2fXhpBi6UJXLBcRy3c-MV09BCQBgRoBwOL6EvozvThKS4EVXV0CfmQ3OuvYZMjqRt2iaPvVD5vScrdxLpuzYJt0jMoiewXCtZb3r45Lc-3g3hzA/s3851/2022.15.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2713" data-original-width="3851" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3UrNg2F8cQ10hy1ap9bZvsdkCox3uqyPrV4nZk327pmuK-YOfoTEQLh9ZzDEoKmaZAk5un8aHS--2fXhpBi6UJXLBcRy3c-MV09BCQBgRoBwOL6EvozvThKS4EVXV0CfmQ3OuvYZMjqRt2iaPvVD5vScrdxLpuzYJt0jMoiewXCtZb3r45Lc-3g3hzA/w400-h281/2022.15.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Curious visitor on the Hood Canal…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMhrS43AzFsAxRK8t7PJ9kfjp1RvzmHrV5Fteh03ERLIzY10ZKY6qEEG_pBqRSAPr6DjcadSt4x_lCSoLcg_4v4a8YxvLI3UgthcABtNLGgDDGakbbyclgpn_vV4owmlColcHIVhE5pVvRTRKXv2uK1rXhdSqrbfPIO4JDE8legUGVy2T4-O-XANgUwA/s4032/2022.16.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMhrS43AzFsAxRK8t7PJ9kfjp1RvzmHrV5Fteh03ERLIzY10ZKY6qEEG_pBqRSAPr6DjcadSt4x_lCSoLcg_4v4a8YxvLI3UgthcABtNLGgDDGakbbyclgpn_vV4owmlColcHIVhE5pVvRTRKXv2uK1rXhdSqrbfPIO4JDE8legUGVy2T4-O-XANgUwA/w400-h300/2022.16.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…<i>this</i> Hood Canal<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWWDaGIqgGk1wUhsTWChRgzV_gc8NgGOGakm3XHV3Dt3Glo4_dhBy6lkja6BPU6eRII2k7lD8EwePrzZTms1_5mLx6rGhuu-FlYVWOQeCuqB4BRHNDYdqdz9JIovII4Y0Hiza983p0V8ArJQtuDATJm0qvIMA7PxqYFDXOiVRs2UTdBngpuYI0eSr9Mg/s4032/2022.17.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWWDaGIqgGk1wUhsTWChRgzV_gc8NgGOGakm3XHV3Dt3Glo4_dhBy6lkja6BPU6eRII2k7lD8EwePrzZTms1_5mLx6rGhuu-FlYVWOQeCuqB4BRHNDYdqdz9JIovII4Y0Hiza983p0V8ArJQtuDATJm0qvIMA7PxqYFDXOiVRs2UTdBngpuYI0eSr9Mg/w400-h300/2022.17.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Edward recuperates. (He’s such a good boy.)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGRIYu6mKd41vVuaqJOL-cb5wzGhNQ_ZX5xJDfvAAASx0Eqo-1sLbDiGWSEb4o2J_aAfkW9zwTK3v2LkMzBsb8tJlRtMyYMNPIyQ1-EC5WUytrTgP4TFEQFGrEAoaZZW7_jDgfGr8xWTJWA7orFoyU6XaXO7PNSfjId_AUz4-Mc4lDP1LF7IhtSiqfpw/s4032/2022.18.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGRIYu6mKd41vVuaqJOL-cb5wzGhNQ_ZX5xJDfvAAASx0Eqo-1sLbDiGWSEb4o2J_aAfkW9zwTK3v2LkMzBsb8tJlRtMyYMNPIyQ1-EC5WUytrTgP4TFEQFGrEAoaZZW7_jDgfGr8xWTJWA7orFoyU6XaXO7PNSfjId_AUz4-Mc4lDP1LF7IhtSiqfpw/s320/2022.18.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Grand Moto Guzzi experience! Piaggio invited twenty riders to try out the Moto Guzzi V85 TT Adventure tourer. The bike does not disappoint<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKxgbc7Lq6woyYxLRVMpRrDGtV-fZeMRzLjGC5-e035nxNuGiWBj8Owh2LQ6NJE3Mz9hxkZulUleBW3vQSCuk7lBz2-R2LmWuSTRJtBeX3fhOVC9-empUSrlgelo-iT_kiWjWQdDErlseyqXRWx-b8AkLPYHCTAvcXAJeUWoCQDhPObBS5ecIw1G1XDA/s4032/2022.19.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKxgbc7Lq6woyYxLRVMpRrDGtV-fZeMRzLjGC5-e035nxNuGiWBj8Owh2LQ6NJE3Mz9hxkZulUleBW3vQSCuk7lBz2-R2LmWuSTRJtBeX3fhOVC9-empUSrlgelo-iT_kiWjWQdDErlseyqXRWx-b8AkLPYHCTAvcXAJeUWoCQDhPObBS5ecIw1G1XDA/w400-h300/2022.19.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Remnant at Bodie.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-2ynRbyyruycOiZRboIITuztlngGvD3he3bL8AZrMozkSIUEXr3Xm1DCGvR-K7kVrOvf3f54317_feZ5M_W7SVbFHVoYLOh00sNiYBmLwzg5fokBEMO_1X5y6T0vyOqwp6tPr3v_nUGy44kwDPnZDWogopLDq7X13tZ8uQz0vwMloH0HZ6p_zNYCq5g/s4032/2022.20.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-2ynRbyyruycOiZRboIITuztlngGvD3he3bL8AZrMozkSIUEXr3Xm1DCGvR-K7kVrOvf3f54317_feZ5M_W7SVbFHVoYLOh00sNiYBmLwzg5fokBEMO_1X5y6T0vyOqwp6tPr3v_nUGy44kwDPnZDWogopLDq7X13tZ8uQz0vwMloH0HZ6p_zNYCq5g/w400-h300/2022.20.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Bixby Bridge near Big Sur.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz4f_6b3m0Oa9GxqtFBC-7eSTr_GOqtgLWWIYL8Y_f_DnSQV6f-Mb-b_uCGILGgkLExVGiXnT76rdN0q-_l1r3LInpoSlNB1BsQpshSBqXj8CNUzCCGNhcrSrTTOeFDzq3VOz5brN_5cpdA4KxR-pAukPDEos2mal_sA5G37goRUGbvaS-HRfYN4tRjA/s2870/2022.21.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2371" data-original-width="2870" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz4f_6b3m0Oa9GxqtFBC-7eSTr_GOqtgLWWIYL8Y_f_DnSQV6f-Mb-b_uCGILGgkLExVGiXnT76rdN0q-_l1r3LInpoSlNB1BsQpshSBqXj8CNUzCCGNhcrSrTTOeFDzq3VOz5brN_5cpdA4KxR-pAukPDEos2mal_sA5G37goRUGbvaS-HRfYN4tRjA/w400-h330/2022.21.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Toward Humbug Summit… …after.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8olaFYx0utiOV-yHMKVP8WsPkE9rqW2-NzLLHA2yw48Lm5JuO7-2A8R6AYnr6Is70Tm4EWJ9krqB4a8x3Qd5uN7vvszLZ86FBUKz9M1zNSAWOp31x1xnZH8Gjzpl6PCC1924w-Clg8V-haLxVKDBMSnjbVjOhp2kmOsPY8FAW4o8UdZunGBqnhXFMYQ/s4032/2022.22.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8olaFYx0utiOV-yHMKVP8WsPkE9rqW2-NzLLHA2yw48Lm5JuO7-2A8R6AYnr6Is70Tm4EWJ9krqB4a8x3Qd5uN7vvszLZ86FBUKz9M1zNSAWOp31x1xnZH8Gjzpl6PCC1924w-Clg8V-haLxVKDBMSnjbVjOhp2kmOsPY8FAW4o8UdZunGBqnhXFMYQ/w300-h400/2022.22.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The Church of the Open Road publishes a book! (Twenty bucks! See your local, independent book retailer.)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7hiCKPXsVi-Idr-crRkWEgEVk8UjBxEu8m3JadjMy3B2ftYcbyik65XW1W2cXOFqx7TfYfwqpuhOjhyjkdG7ov-3b_hIbMaSVCggwCdgQ4AmgZakQ7gSOl6jcir1TwWH3Lzku_mWgx2q3e7vIlkj-gB04_5UAAUnvgUSHNgf59VqBDMa3Us8ezW4lyQ/s3378/2022.23.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3378" data-original-width="2306" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7hiCKPXsVi-Idr-crRkWEgEVk8UjBxEu8m3JadjMy3B2ftYcbyik65XW1W2cXOFqx7TfYfwqpuhOjhyjkdG7ov-3b_hIbMaSVCggwCdgQ4AmgZakQ7gSOl6jcir1TwWH3Lzku_mWgx2q3e7vIlkj-gB04_5UAAUnvgUSHNgf59VqBDMa3Us8ezW4lyQ/w273-h400/2022.23.jpeg" width="273" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Artsy-fartsy foliage in the ‘hood.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnQdscIxjNeZC5uN7wqE_4sUzxbFWbHPKh5_PF-81k0VWfBWuktly20RDp-KvJ8zv1Nij_Fj_wGNM9Nw9ZIzD0CSnQKbKT8ojjmoWbf-5Bcv3hUk-oNnxpgDNKc2V_g8Et2UY2--SF0PQkcf2n2MldgXYnz-MTbgpbXSBKoFiHaqzlngKaLXX56GSoVg/s4032/2022.24.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnQdscIxjNeZC5uN7wqE_4sUzxbFWbHPKh5_PF-81k0VWfBWuktly20RDp-KvJ8zv1Nij_Fj_wGNM9Nw9ZIzD0CSnQKbKT8ojjmoWbf-5Bcv3hUk-oNnxpgDNKc2V_g8Et2UY2--SF0PQkcf2n2MldgXYnz-MTbgpbXSBKoFiHaqzlngKaLXX56GSoVg/s320/2022.24.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman Bold"; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Best read of 2022</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> (outside of my own book ~ see above): George Saunders is such an accomplished ~ yet new to me ~ author. In <u>Lincoln in the Bardo</u> Saunders mixes historic renderings of the awful period after Lincoln’s son’s death, with the musing of those ghosts who live in the cemetery, existing somewhere between here and the afterlife. Having early in January of ’22 been diagnosed with pretty advanced prostate cancer ~ cancer so often synonymous with ‘Oh crap! I’m gonna die!’~ I was quite taken by this historo-fantasy. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDSJRQ1tnN7tIorERQGbBV8gaKr8LqJ-c-ATj0PCbNqzfebPZNnpFrehVxyq_sM24jGOLn5Av3WogJ6cwgugsLjS_BU8gZoDR5IYpp3BrKdKdd2uaglHp9SH5WluK6af-8uGpHocKWVnjDvqzJBV-i1xnk9M8CDkOZCwAId2O9VLn0a5JK02fKG6k8LQ/s3769/2022.25.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3769" data-original-width="2611" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDSJRQ1tnN7tIorERQGbBV8gaKr8LqJ-c-ATj0PCbNqzfebPZNnpFrehVxyq_sM24jGOLn5Av3WogJ6cwgugsLjS_BU8gZoDR5IYpp3BrKdKdd2uaglHp9SH5WluK6af-8uGpHocKWVnjDvqzJBV-i1xnk9M8CDkOZCwAId2O9VLn0a5JK02fKG6k8LQ/w278-h400/2022.25.jpeg" width="278" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Immediately upon finishing it, I decided to pick it up again just to see how Saunders did what he did in this Mann Booker Prize winner. Once I got into the rhythm of his prose, this became a fabulous read. [News flash! Six months after completing radiation my December PSA test showed the prostate back well within normal range.] <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman Bold"; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Shots of the Year</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Historic Blast from the Past</span></i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">: The ’71 Super Beetle ~ so many adventures!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1dpLtONzlg26EvOjcxVcd7AoW_VzN4ctJ2_yyXSTL5ElxgJjURuiYJj_qOQDt-gAzJBTgRVjGLVexTcbqZ-Hp2X-fhCxQu0zXdBPsVaOwICAw4-cw8-0z7RFaqNrP5DvfNoqwWY8lxS9YriZrZ3hQ6TLKxphYXS7QuAn-UKN0e59i1-cU5psQJ-I_Nw/s2326/2022.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1535" data-original-width="2326" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1dpLtONzlg26EvOjcxVcd7AoW_VzN4ctJ2_yyXSTL5ElxgJjURuiYJj_qOQDt-gAzJBTgRVjGLVexTcbqZ-Hp2X-fhCxQu0zXdBPsVaOwICAw4-cw8-0z7RFaqNrP5DvfNoqwWY8lxS9YriZrZ3hQ6TLKxphYXS7QuAn-UKN0e59i1-cU5psQJ-I_Nw/w400-h264/2022.26.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Best photo from someone else</span></i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">: The spiraling stairs of the Point Arena Lighthouse. Thanks, Brother Tim! (The discerning eye will note me climbing down.)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg3-_YzKetx2HBCuSFjJAPQ37akPY-OdnRioG3eUFOy1J6r1y3vg4NatnPTwMVUHmO-bW5tJ7tY5tI-E-xmJ36G60DN_DmLvfa3-7E4gU9iPMSwVA4Wedjflsh2SWQR2EbU698Gwpd1bCaeKKL743SO_Kfd_MV6X-ofr_oCMlNK9d0PTsCB1xrh3SRWQ/s2914/2022.27.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2914" data-original-width="2877" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg3-_YzKetx2HBCuSFjJAPQ37akPY-OdnRioG3eUFOy1J6r1y3vg4NatnPTwMVUHmO-bW5tJ7tY5tI-E-xmJ36G60DN_DmLvfa3-7E4gU9iPMSwVA4Wedjflsh2SWQR2EbU698Gwpd1bCaeKKL743SO_Kfd_MV6X-ofr_oCMlNK9d0PTsCB1xrh3SRWQ/w395-h400/2022.27.jpeg" width="395" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Second Runner-up</span></i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">: Portrait of a puppy as an old dog. (He’s such a …)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGJsaPPToB_p-kVyMWSPguHc-LYJ-j7oM79Eq9Utp4bb7gwkq7KECzxrk2z8BnSCBATe8O96Kk7rW0khCJ4oke46aexYO9rEmsKdfncW_uNSTWV2LL_CmkaulgKowXO0w-st0E6wOduFPv4AxO0anY4ZaE9McSrN03vFo2CFD7-rRR-swzugvVDuof1g/s3083/2022.28.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2547" data-original-width="3083" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGJsaPPToB_p-kVyMWSPguHc-LYJ-j7oM79Eq9Utp4bb7gwkq7KECzxrk2z8BnSCBATe8O96Kk7rW0khCJ4oke46aexYO9rEmsKdfncW_uNSTWV2LL_CmkaulgKowXO0w-st0E6wOduFPv4AxO0anY4ZaE9McSrN03vFo2CFD7-rRR-swzugvVDuof1g/w400-h330/2022.28.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">First Runner-up</span></i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">: Morning cup-o-joe on the Hood Canal<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkmNXtHIDaxXs-IZMGcGVszm8mHN5rM76i0BaRklBIzUjuuXqn3AhVxquz07cLbFVBgpFv4qlxVnc-PqTNQ6FZxNj42uIpfhyaIs2Kc7r4GWBah1C7iK4nYAXG9pwcK0B0Mdyr6nEDVhGTSv2nCUBRM6ChFgnqQVSIPT0cESEuLPRfCNVEMBKIWHydkg/s3469/2022.29.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2324" data-original-width="3469" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkmNXtHIDaxXs-IZMGcGVszm8mHN5rM76i0BaRklBIzUjuuXqn3AhVxquz07cLbFVBgpFv4qlxVnc-PqTNQ6FZxNj42uIpfhyaIs2Kc7r4GWBah1C7iK4nYAXG9pwcK0B0Mdyr6nEDVhGTSv2nCUBRM6ChFgnqQVSIPT0cESEuLPRfCNVEMBKIWHydkg/w400-h268/2022.29.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman Bold"; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Shot of the Year</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">: Northwestern Pacific Rails (to trails?) A few bureaucratic steps closer this year!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvRwREro0GoSVWvciCyKnRSuSk9wYkC7BSwOWYd9SNrgKduBvH_wXs9iAl8gkaI9i26jrdMRmHJJPo6hF0nAdZidcPw-8uzxr-7WmUNIC1hlnzT-ZT2ANy32_4E33j7DwIb63X5zj2yYh2nokKWOKlqBs_EABFcnmw0LrOdI6_5MpvF-wAv9UWrsfhDA/s3023/2022.30.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2936" data-original-width="3023" height="389" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvRwREro0GoSVWvciCyKnRSuSk9wYkC7BSwOWYd9SNrgKduBvH_wXs9iAl8gkaI9i26jrdMRmHJJPo6hF0nAdZidcPw-8uzxr-7WmUNIC1hlnzT-ZT2ANy32_4E33j7DwIb63X5zj2yYh2nokKWOKlqBs_EABFcnmw0LrOdI6_5MpvF-wAv9UWrsfhDA/w400-h389/2022.30.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Hoping to travel a little farther and a little wider in 2023, and I hope to see you on the road!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2022<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-86471462014221432902022-12-20T16:52:00.002-08:002022-12-29T16:29:02.263-08:00JOY<p style="text-align: right;"> <i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Church of the Open Road </span></i><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Holiday Greetings for 2022</span></i></p><div class="WordSection1" style="page: WordSection1;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in; text-align: center;"><b style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;"><br /></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidVMq6KP7mDC0-z5t7x_OyLjnTN4jCrVJPRDxqWxSupG4_vaz4em9OPLfe_blSQvSLHkXJhY7eDaSmh9CgKog-vZH7UQKH03uvsvHY6mJ_sR4aDp_YS4g4tu_7tr2KBsF4LFSGcLHlpYvRk7p4y8WWzZ34oYNqI3rwlE0G2MOjupN1eiOoRVAtC0rpEw/s3756/001.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3756" data-original-width="2868" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidVMq6KP7mDC0-z5t7x_OyLjnTN4jCrVJPRDxqWxSupG4_vaz4em9OPLfe_blSQvSLHkXJhY7eDaSmh9CgKog-vZH7UQKH03uvsvHY6mJ_sR4aDp_YS4g4tu_7tr2KBsF4LFSGcLHlpYvRk7p4y8WWzZ34oYNqI3rwlE0G2MOjupN1eiOoRVAtC0rpEw/s320/001.jpeg" width="244" /></a></b></div><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">A week or so before Thanksgiving</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"></span><span style="font-size: medium;"></span> I am confronted with one of those mid-November days when a low sun peeks above the rim of our surrounding hills just long enough to raise the temperature to the mid-sixties. It had been a while since I’d straddled my Moto Guzzi and, I decide, whatever else I actually need to do this afternoon can wait. A few minutes from home I am slipping under and through tunnels of black oaks and maples with their glittering gold leaves and entering into gently rolling expanses of harvested vineyards, blocks of foliage now purple and crimson and orange and rust and brown. The sky is cloudless, as blue as it’s ever been. Ever. And the pavement is dry and smooth. The curves are sweeping and gracious. The speed I am traveling is not heart-poundingly fast. Heart-poundingly fast is not necessary. No. The speed is just right for carving wine country by-ways. And, along with that <i>just right</i>, the emotion I feel is joy. Not thrill. Not danger. Joy. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p></div><div class="WordSection2" style="page: WordSection2;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh78mjy5mhQESAhcULu8Q6nhS27hNr_ILVB8DLM2ItSo_RCKtavuAwOBzhwa2SebWIcYXP14JOXEN3Q9aayvw5gg5NeQCH_ezC_04y9M8mQRbJm6Ov_QZp38fA_uVDFtFE8HHulJJZWH0H6_zIqeHjt7v4NubjcY0fldPZL_2bN8fRyxgHyV03knHABYA/s4032/003.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh78mjy5mhQESAhcULu8Q6nhS27hNr_ILVB8DLM2ItSo_RCKtavuAwOBzhwa2SebWIcYXP14JOXEN3Q9aayvw5gg5NeQCH_ezC_04y9M8mQRbJm6Ov_QZp38fA_uVDFtFE8HHulJJZWH0H6_zIqeHjt7v4NubjcY0fldPZL_2bN8fRyxgHyV03knHABYA/w200-h150/003.jpeg" width="200" /></a></b></div><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">We find ourselves entertaining </span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">deeper, different thoughts</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> under various conditions. While walking a forest path in the rain. Standing atop an ocean bluff. Peering into the night sky. Or, for some: looking into the dancing eyes of a grandchild. Or massaging the belly of a loyal, snoozing pet, or, better yet, the shoulders of a beloved partner.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDBtnPeQE1epCUz4UtsTdGEaMNw-0WWGSKK2SYuaxkLDpqwJZOCO04pEPoaKzmmi-uoSHG2TgT5Hq-W85d3-rjgip32Etg70-R6eQCfeiEQv6WXJPzD2zeSZFDouB-JkzuP43vtGMwTnuRLopO7EsNuSC_ifzvI6HG_hVxZuvZmw41FqPQf5ow3cicOA/s3410/002.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2231" data-original-width="3410" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDBtnPeQE1epCUz4UtsTdGEaMNw-0WWGSKK2SYuaxkLDpqwJZOCO04pEPoaKzmmi-uoSHG2TgT5Hq-W85d3-rjgip32Etg70-R6eQCfeiEQv6WXJPzD2zeSZFDouB-JkzuP43vtGMwTnuRLopO7EsNuSC_ifzvI6HG_hVxZuvZmw41FqPQf5ow3cicOA/s320/002.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">How frequently, I wonder, could that deeper notion be defined as joy? What makes a circumstance joyful? And not thrilling or dangerous or silly or sad? Just as we can drive to the coast or the trailhead or to a starry night sky viewpoint, can we somehow drive our minds to the place where the aroused emotion is delight or bliss? (Meditation comes to mind, but I fidget way too much to be successful at meditation, so that’s off the table; and my long ago staff at Maidu School more than once, in meetings I was conducting, held up a sign that simply said, “Focus!”)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRR4I96dMG8Dm7diQRMSFZ88LFINaegBn6P3T43GlFibrEdGPT2bwALcdSsqNO-6L9aFd084HBGo9nkSsbB6Nft4fOFaXK-oDhMWLBnYQDVIL-Hd3YJu4vpiRn2Jc_1OmdLLJwWXq63QU9qH20fXM7v6bVObwo2wtQVmKaF1w_lbXqHUa48MLL1_N_JQ/s4592/004.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4592" data-original-width="3448" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRR4I96dMG8Dm7diQRMSFZ88LFINaegBn6P3T43GlFibrEdGPT2bwALcdSsqNO-6L9aFd084HBGo9nkSsbB6Nft4fOFaXK-oDhMWLBnYQDVIL-Hd3YJu4vpiRn2Jc_1OmdLLJwWXq63QU9qH20fXM7v6bVObwo2wtQVmKaF1w_lbXqHUa48MLL1_N_JQ/w150-h200/004.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I suppose that I, for one, must do something or go somewhere in order to get to that point. Good thing there are trails through our neighboring woods for walking. Good thing it’s a short drive to the ocean. Good thing that little motorcycle is available for a late-autumn escape.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">With apologies to Jackie D</span></b><b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">e<span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Shannon</span></span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">, may I posit that joy, like love, is something that ‘there’s just too little of.’ Perhaps it’s because we feel we have to go looking for it. Or we expect to get it from somebody or something else. Perhaps we don’t embrace that joy is not something you get; it is something you have. It’s internal. And it shines through when conditions are just right. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkr4Jd1B3LrSS0jp8UEIj8VH6plQY41tywvz0UZu-9tjD43LjlXet3gxDMmYzxZr6S8FRhDoUfbp5Q3ATfLEZeRcz7_TRiUtBXKZVA3_A5gtq7UPBCENsgikVSRdlfd8_bipMK74W4ow0kRVwRt8pDVmwHxHrRXXFuqsBcG2_2NcWwz3RTiuWURiBug/s1536/005.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1536" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkr4Jd1B3LrSS0jp8UEIj8VH6plQY41tywvz0UZu-9tjD43LjlXet3gxDMmYzxZr6S8FRhDoUfbp5Q3ATfLEZeRcz7_TRiUtBXKZVA3_A5gtq7UPBCENsgikVSRdlfd8_bipMK74W4ow0kRVwRt8pDVmwHxHrRXXFuqsBcG2_2NcWwz3RTiuWURiBug/s320/005.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Like when the kids are tearing through Santa’s gifts on Christmas morning. Or when the fragrance of a freshly carved turkey wafts across the table. Or when a satisfying dusk settles over a tender and cluttered day-long gathering. I’m prompted to think that while love often takes two or more – you know, something folks share with one another – joy, equally appealing and fulfilling, can ride solo. And that’s okay.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhf4BSV75S19a3JxoK6LrYx0jQpN4_TwScY2tdhYUbLdZgncpq5gfc8_GAqaxEHMyY3LQDcLWkN7iwYS0Z3Gvjm2p9iK5Mxq3G9Il_kjip9dGtB3mKaBV2WV0Ic_4Ntn3OFZaQtsJSuHBAihVpwNGoih9sacCyQV75sp6LGoCpsF0CUePBKp4jvLRkXw/s1653/006.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1653" data-original-width="786" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhf4BSV75S19a3JxoK6LrYx0jQpN4_TwScY2tdhYUbLdZgncpq5gfc8_GAqaxEHMyY3LQDcLWkN7iwYS0Z3Gvjm2p9iK5Mxq3G9Il_kjip9dGtB3mKaBV2WV0Ic_4Ntn3OFZaQtsJSuHBAihVpwNGoih9sacCyQV75sp6LGoCpsF0CUePBKp4jvLRkXw/s320/006.jpeg" width="152" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Sitting in front of the fire</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> with a mug of something warm after everyone else has toddled off – just before the lights are doused on the tree – that joyful feeling visits. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">It has been a holiday and it has been <i>just right.</i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><i style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><i style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> </span></span></span></span></span></span>The Church of the Open Road</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><i style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> </span></span></span></span></span></span>and Edward, our beloved pooch* </i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><i style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> </span></span></span></span></span></span>wish all a joyous noel.</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><i style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> </span></span></span></span></span></span>Cheers!</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0.1in 0in 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">* He’s such a good boy.</span></p></div>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-63868992164267835982022-12-09T10:58:00.002-08:002022-12-29T16:29:18.688-08:00BLOG POST HIATUS EXPLAINED<p style="text-align: right;"> <i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: right;">The Church of the Open Road gets Published!</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman Bold"; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Our last post</span></b> to the Church of the Open Road was last April. You may be wondering why. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Was it COVID-19? Nope. We didn’t travel as much but that doesn’t mean we didn’t travel.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Was it that cancer diagnosis? Nope. Radiation ending in June seems to have cleared things up.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Was it a lack of motivation? Nope. I’ve been writing away, just not bloggy stuff.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman Bold"; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">And that gets to the big announcement</span></b>:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><u>Eden, Indeed: Tales, Truths and Fabrications of a Small Town Boy</u>, a compilation of my growing up stories has been published! <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4oE7lvOvPZ5r2NOguDL51CRPKvOX_plccbBggbGch9Qh6z9-5MCckdTpRraEhcmNnVSqyusNJMbHpijIpyUQKbVxmFl58_-HG-fxB2JJQawNBA29-yLAiGOcv5ujwP_dU9dnyWzcW8xtaRoIMZ3h3dcjjUj4A6rsBgzDEQ-joqcJJ3fbJNlRgMWqBgA/s4023/1.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1634" data-original-width="4023" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4oE7lvOvPZ5r2NOguDL51CRPKvOX_plccbBggbGch9Qh6z9-5MCckdTpRraEhcmNnVSqyusNJMbHpijIpyUQKbVxmFl58_-HG-fxB2JJQawNBA29-yLAiGOcv5ujwP_dU9dnyWzcW8xtaRoIMZ3h3dcjjUj4A6rsBgzDEQ-joqcJJ3fbJNlRgMWqBgA/w400-h163/1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><o:p><br /></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">When I was just a little kid, I used to love it when Dad would sit at the foot of my bed ~ I still recall his weight pulling the covers snuggly around my feet ~ and tell of his adventures growing up in the Mojave Desert. Fast forward a few years and I was married with a lovely child but soon divorced. It immediately occurred to me that I would not have the opportunity to sit at the foot of her bed and tell my growing up stories.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">While the pieces in the collection are arranged roughly in chronological order, the first piece I wrote was about a little old lady that lived down the street from us. Initially, I composed it when while assigning my fourth graders the task of writing a short biography of someone they know “…but it can’t be a relative…” one little boy said, “You do one, too!” And the class chorused “Yeah, Mr. D!” Thus, I was stuck.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMg2KyB_mtT2hGjrkxFk4rmB9uND4fgCAgZkpa_SuzclgXtCBYuFOpbHfuo1-mTOjFEsk9PSIyb2Pow4MI4MdU_DffTZjq1c8IfdQ0Vl5H0ZzY2PwciaSK9_K4eV2gU1csJI7gwAKLPF3dtEloyDHfoTqlln5_m7CyIbD0nYr3NtCI-rK-3W2nmZuAtw/s997/2.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="997" data-original-width="977" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMg2KyB_mtT2hGjrkxFk4rmB9uND4fgCAgZkpa_SuzclgXtCBYuFOpbHfuo1-mTOjFEsk9PSIyb2Pow4MI4MdU_DffTZjq1c8IfdQ0Vl5H0ZzY2PwciaSK9_K4eV2gU1csJI7gwAKLPF3dtEloyDHfoTqlln5_m7CyIbD0nYr3NtCI-rK-3W2nmZuAtw/w196-h200/2.jpg" width="196" /></a></div>What now exists are my hazy impressions of growing up on five semi-rural acres during the tumultuous late 50s and 60s and beyond, building tree forts, catching poison oak, crashing canoes, surviving a pre-teen crush or two and remembering some dark national times from which me and my gang of friends were pretty well insulated. The target audience is my grandkids. Implicit is the desire that they have an impression of my youth similar to the impression Dad gave me of his own.<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuiZWNkJJJgjYTNczNkw_lZzaV3JQ2i7U5mbUFpkR-4MpGnoYM7gAOePwdDc3KTxEmkumCB8aUrLV6f0y6Dg09C4SM9pUJ3QZyTiPKDjfUFWigZU-AKill1daNx_JLT8Nn3hq4gR8od0QhJjA66BMh3fXeF2U68Rsz6ic0zs4E4Lu4PW1aW7CuijzMJA/s3378/3.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3378" data-original-width="2306" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuiZWNkJJJgjYTNczNkw_lZzaV3JQ2i7U5mbUFpkR-4MpGnoYM7gAOePwdDc3KTxEmkumCB8aUrLV6f0y6Dg09C4SM9pUJ3QZyTiPKDjfUFWigZU-AKill1daNx_JLT8Nn3hq4gR8od0QhJjA66BMh3fXeF2U68Rsz6ic0zs4E4Lu4PW1aW7CuijzMJA/w136-h200/3.jpeg" width="136" /></a></div>The stories have been critiqued and vetted by members of the Cloverdale-based writers’ group with which I’ve been engaged. It was designed by Personal History Productions LLC in Santa Rosa so it looks much more professional than anything I might have imagined on my own. <a href="https://www.personalhistoryproductions.com/" style="color: #954f72;">https://www.personalhistoryproductions.com</a> The CEO of Personal History, upon reading the text (many times) said that she grew up in a small town in North Carolina but that my stories reminded her of home. With that generous comment in mind, I’ve asked the company that prints the volume, IngramSpark, <a href="https://www.ingramspark.com/" style="color: #954f72;">https://www.ingramspark.com</a> to add it to their wholesale catalog. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman Bold"; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman Bold"; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9ZS0CXGUXhI3n3_l-RyOMi8IEHMyrOguA6TbsACO3XE-1wtCd1ZVSfj4JW-mYSNds4R69E-Vjm2GIfWf0cn3S30aF4_Ljqq36g_-7PhPuuSStP7MEqNAmuKj-De45mtH3tZ3kkJtca2gmsa-cdeJmNYgjEK5-PmN82IqFfm7ZPWi2End-4UlwT29gQ/s3432/4.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3432" data-original-width="2228" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9ZS0CXGUXhI3n3_l-RyOMi8IEHMyrOguA6TbsACO3XE-1wtCd1ZVSfj4JW-mYSNds4R69E-Vjm2GIfWf0cn3S30aF4_Ljqq36g_-7PhPuuSStP7MEqNAmuKj-De45mtH3tZ3kkJtca2gmsa-cdeJmNYgjEK5-PmN82IqFfm7ZPWi2End-4UlwT29gQ/s320/4.jpeg" width="208" /></a></b></div><b>At 230 pages, the cost is twenty bucks.</b> Available by ordering through your independent, local book seller (also online from Amazon, but the Church of the Open Road always prefers you shop with the local guy.)<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">While I don’t want to commercialize my blog, I hope you will consider ordering a copy. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman Bold"; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Now, for 2023</span></b>, the Church of the Open Road resolves to return to the Open Road, take a few photos, write a few words and tell folks about it here…<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2022<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-66191213587368090102022-04-27T16:02:00.002-07:002022-04-27T16:41:47.196-07:00A DAY TOUR OF THE EEL RIVER RIM<p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…Ahh! The simple remoteness of it all…<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">A long-time riding pal</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> looks at a map of Northern California and comments, “You’ve been on pretty much all of these roads!” While that’s more than a bit of an overstatement, it’s true that I have been on a lot of ‘em. And yesterday, I bagged two more.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn55O6rxRQTcnAp_ZCX0L2Ur3M0E3mHOdw5VaYzgivOQrZDkjELjguITZLW0_QMNvxNiNCjQqt63MTT1ct23KyVGn6uFylO1zuzyY7M5_TrTbqrwFHkIrYXFt9YYKx7JvVHuhbshreiZWZ2vhd5h727Eq6QLwj2-VR7MN-tcZCVT--I3fBKCNiDGulgQ/s4592/1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3448" data-original-width="4592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn55O6rxRQTcnAp_ZCX0L2Ur3M0E3mHOdw5VaYzgivOQrZDkjELjguITZLW0_QMNvxNiNCjQqt63MTT1ct23KyVGn6uFylO1zuzyY7M5_TrTbqrwFHkIrYXFt9YYKx7JvVHuhbshreiZWZ2vhd5h727Eq6QLwj2-VR7MN-tcZCVT--I3fBKCNiDGulgQ/w400-h300/1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> My recent fascination with the Eel River environs has found me looking at remote sections of our Coast Range in Mendocino, Trinity, and Humboldt Counties. The geography of this area is a jumble of volcanic spasms, tectonic folds deep river canyons all animated by the occasional earthquake or storm induced landslide. The fascinating history is far less impacted by white presence than the gold-infused Sierra-Cascade to the east. It’s easy to disappear into these hills and imagine tens of thousands of years of untrammeled life by the area’s first peoples, and clear to see the brunt of 19<sup>th</sup> century loggers and ranchers and the railroaders who tried to link everyone together. Which doesn’t mean our conquering culture didn’t do immeasurable harm to those who came before. See <a href="https://thechurchoftheopenroad.blogspot.com/2018/06/killing-for-land-in-early-california.html" style="color: #954f72;">https://thechurchoftheopenroad.blogspot.com/2018/06/killing-for-land-in-early-california.html</a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> A good map or atlas (I carry <u>DeLorme’s California Atlas and Gazetteer</u>) indicates place names you can drive right through and never see, because whatever was there, no longer is, or isn’t much. Owing to the fact that I’ll be traveling dirt roads, I’m in our Subaru Forester this trip. Given a suspect right knee, my days of confidently riding a big dual sport like my late Yamaha Super Tenere are over. Plus, in the 100,000 miles I’ve put on the Sube, I’ve never once worried about tipping over on the thing.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqWVn58x0w9G0FPe5hHrvDIj88-EL4aZWoZ1D8vJE1srRkFGqrN2uV36j2Q2mjciEFdba3Qf28hquEHxf-Lh_f6_PhW1-7r1nems7ryMN-ejYbMc1lq5wiRDkV0-BpkagH8fTX64yj8MXq6Y4oWUMAZX8Y0wM-75HnqzqviHE-yQu5Gk_RDfT5ylsQSg/s4592/2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2718" data-original-width="4592" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqWVn58x0w9G0FPe5hHrvDIj88-EL4aZWoZ1D8vJE1srRkFGqrN2uV36j2Q2mjciEFdba3Qf28hquEHxf-Lh_f6_PhW1-7r1nems7ryMN-ejYbMc1lq5wiRDkV0-BpkagH8fTX64yj8MXq6Y4oWUMAZX8Y0wM-75HnqzqviHE-yQu5Gk_RDfT5ylsQSg/w400-h236/2.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">I left US 101</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> at Laytonville following a well-graded Dos Rios Road into the Eel River Canyon. Dos Rios is a small enclave of a dozen or so houses perched above the confluence of Berger Creek (I’m thinkin’) and the Eel. I think I spotted a school, but I’m not sure I saw a store. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmfGEbUFJTe2lZJRug8FMuOXrY2pgqbM-_am3Rx9QZqjeW6ELpedvSjXUToJl_Boj8OIja_PqTepYFvGDy0qTSV8rxZYL7T0q0jSHu1aqysuh_5L3FZPtnwQFBflIHoM5rGuZkKS3yGwpjHo9KX8D-QTKxl_KttczPZ08StF7Kiz0FNhMhV4xeo9Po9g/s4592/3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3448" data-original-width="4592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmfGEbUFJTe2lZJRug8FMuOXrY2pgqbM-_am3Rx9QZqjeW6ELpedvSjXUToJl_Boj8OIja_PqTepYFvGDy0qTSV8rxZYL7T0q0jSHu1aqysuh_5L3FZPtnwQFBflIHoM5rGuZkKS3yGwpjHo9KX8D-QTKxl_KttczPZ08StF7Kiz0FNhMhV4xeo9Po9g/w400-h300/3.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Picking up State Route 162, I head north and east and over a ridge into Round Valley and Covelo. The valley floor is lush, perfect for raising cattle, the cash crop that spelled the demise of the native peoples to whom that slice of heaven had been promised. The town offers a number of services, but a number of services seem to have left as well. There’s a Tri-Counties Bank in a newer building, but the old bank building stands as a burnt-out hulk. The US Forest Service anchors a Mendocino National Forest ranger district there, but Georgia Pacific (or was it Louisiana Pacific?) mill, a long-time big employer, is long gone.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Route 162 angles east, but north through Mina toward Zenia is the road I’ve long wanted to traverse. Mina Road pavement ends just outside of Covelo, but the road is well graded, and signs ask folks to “use four-wheel-drive to protect the road from washboarding.” I’d never thought of the connection, nor do I understand the physics of the deal, but my Forester is all-wheel drive, so I hoped I was doing my part. The road twists and rises through oak woodlands into mixed deciduous forests, one side posted as reservation land for the consolidated tribes. Kindly do not enter. Okay.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3MWrfQSelPbsd5BvSN_1SvEyAe69SlnYM382hjqZTpN-wprAP9Wdrh9S8hy_wxcatLSxzpfZARZ0-pzJxLxtSrwv2r-8Gu4kh98BeIx7jIYC10D9ck8YyJsk6LIDgQ8Nd3ESFSKbXw_z2TfnbWYmydVhNndxaxGd2zZQaUXvph_bycj696mNna6bB6w/s2530/4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1871" data-original-width="2530" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3MWrfQSelPbsd5BvSN_1SvEyAe69SlnYM382hjqZTpN-wprAP9Wdrh9S8hy_wxcatLSxzpfZARZ0-pzJxLxtSrwv2r-8Gu4kh98BeIx7jIYC10D9ck8YyJsk6LIDgQ8Nd3ESFSKbXw_z2TfnbWYmydVhNndxaxGd2zZQaUXvph_bycj696mNna6bB6w/w400-h296/4.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">The top of the ridge</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> finds yellow pines and broad, high meadows suitable for grazing. Mina, the berg, is little more than a framed gatepost entry to a ranch. Without glancing at the GPS, one wouldn’t know that now they are traveling on Zenia Lake Mountain Road. I check the map to see a Lake Mountain Ranch but see not a Lake Mountain. Will there be a Zenia?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxBB46iR6lKv_LstTPB1Tq04FTfMc7oqFNYekHANBA0B7-FrPdNgrbOv-pb0_nXvMceFX6rru8VGd8KAXFw6niAD-y_8ug-0n3fGV3JLmgoKQVMiZPt1j8LZfaAowgrVOEiXNzJvh1MMpLXi7As3uKUJsiZeFqW9Tuw1unR6MdGY8aUB2Ip9YKnt_-XA/s4592/5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3448" data-original-width="4592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxBB46iR6lKv_LstTPB1Tq04FTfMc7oqFNYekHANBA0B7-FrPdNgrbOv-pb0_nXvMceFX6rru8VGd8KAXFw6niAD-y_8ug-0n3fGV3JLmgoKQVMiZPt1j8LZfaAowgrVOEiXNzJvh1MMpLXi7As3uKUJsiZeFqW9Tuw1unR6MdGY8aUB2Ip9YKnt_-XA/w400-h300/5.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Just when I’m noting the freshness of the high-country air, I encounter mile after mile of the Mendocino Complex burn scar of 2020. This fire, geographically, the largest in state history, took out Simpson Camp, a childhood Shangri-La, maybe fifteen to twenty miles east southeast of where I found myself this noon. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span> <span> </span></span>The big fire raged south of Kettenpom, a placename on this road, one that supports a small general store, what looks like an ag supply with bundles of PVC irrigation pipe ~ I wonder what for? ~ and even has a bright orange “76” gas sign. Not sure it there’s gas. A good-looking albeit laconic dog lazed in the road directly in front of the store as I wheeled around and on to Zenia. Perhaps there, I’d pull in for a Snickers bar.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgFVAZQSPUdmlILEn45nOGi9nqWhaRlkEsCbYoMY6Mhiw9miUTacx2rvL1clpUOVxIX3KZIsfDOcDG_DbH4n8o-EO6tBL9U7B-mWzrDwudLNLgv5b3oEUA2k75X_6YEnwUBifRCVH7W4xAqWn2gVLeGpeTMVhQk75-aeHSO17vUq7TmzmgGZyzMNH9lw/s4538/6.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3188" data-original-width="4538" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgFVAZQSPUdmlILEn45nOGi9nqWhaRlkEsCbYoMY6Mhiw9miUTacx2rvL1clpUOVxIX3KZIsfDOcDG_DbH4n8o-EO6tBL9U7B-mWzrDwudLNLgv5b3oEUA2k75X_6YEnwUBifRCVH7W4xAqWn2gVLeGpeTMVhQk75-aeHSO17vUq7TmzmgGZyzMNH9lw/w400-h281/6.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Zenia, a bigger dot on the map than Kettenpom, has a post office. And it once had a store. There would be no Snickers bar this day ~ at least not one from the Zenia General Store. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> From this point, there’s an inviting road that leads north into Van Duzen River Country, but that’ll be for some other time. I turn west to wind beneath the Zenia Bluffs and into Alderpoint. Alderpoint was a workstation on the now-defunct Northwestern Pacific Rail line. For 75 years, the NWP fought a losing battle with the forces of nature in the Eel River canyon. Remnants of the rail grade can be seen paralleling the river from a fine bridge upon which I crossed. Town, itself, is a relative city. Big(ger) store. School. Businesses that support logging, ranching and, perhaps, extraction industries. Lots of little homes. Maybe not a lot of wealth, unless one considers that value of living in a scenic jumble of hills and ridges, oaks, pines, and meadows, with background music provided by the Eel River. Not bad!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQSnfsgG0zYL-0I7-52JS_WzUQP00mnhC8vTBbxzAntsmR9MSZWJIydnIlROruTbXNIR71ee3B74UfahMHuNftl_oYWsFwt_fy9UUNCPjNbdZmp1MWSvwHJNW4E5DmjVci2xZB8UANTdyZsMhlU_DHVB7n3Dq08J-Bx-G82AQ2K1njZ0vEupIk3vYKnQ/s3668/7.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2152" data-original-width="3668" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQSnfsgG0zYL-0I7-52JS_WzUQP00mnhC8vTBbxzAntsmR9MSZWJIydnIlROruTbXNIR71ee3B74UfahMHuNftl_oYWsFwt_fy9UUNCPjNbdZmp1MWSvwHJNW4E5DmjVci2xZB8UANTdyZsMhlU_DHVB7n3Dq08J-Bx-G82AQ2K1njZ0vEupIk3vYKnQ/w400-h235/7.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> The nearest closer-to-full-service town in Garberville, twenty winding miles west at US 101. The pavement is nice and I’m sure that Alderpoint residents know the route well as they seek a little more selection on the grocery or hardware shelves. But I don’t want to go to Garberville. I want to bag Bell Springs Road.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">All morning</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">, I’d driven the eastern edge of the Eel River watershed. This afternoon, I’d head south on the west side. After heading southwest on Alderpoint Road, I exit south on primitive Harris Road. I’m going to Harris! Another labelled dot on the map. Roughest route of the entire circuit, the Subaru handles it with aplomb. I’m happy to not be on the bike, rolling over rolling gravel and small boulders. I’m too old to pick the thing up off its side, and nobody’s coming along on Harris Road to help me out. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQWg_v5mIySlgYl4B5RfKedPsQFqkmfMqxgV94j4PLrLqa3ItnlCFvFEcI5nGOLzKopxrcPrdS-EVZs7yOqjR6pmu3bOs6w3h6OtsB7By2GiJtrZZAChmfGWIuA3sJxDEEKkjuyfkR6aPXkQSC5GCN-8OjlBCZsgZ6jEpgRdmmmJv99Z0paJsOFfAeNg/s4592/8.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3448" data-original-width="4592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQWg_v5mIySlgYl4B5RfKedPsQFqkmfMqxgV94j4PLrLqa3ItnlCFvFEcI5nGOLzKopxrcPrdS-EVZs7yOqjR6pmu3bOs6w3h6OtsB7By2GiJtrZZAChmfGWIuA3sJxDEEKkjuyfkR6aPXkQSC5GCN-8OjlBCZsgZ6jEpgRdmmmJv99Z0paJsOFfAeNg/w400-h300/8.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I’m not surprised to find that Harris once had a country store, but no more. The skeleton of the place still stands with a long, low overhung porch, whitewashed walls the whitewash of each dates back about 70 years, and nothing but ranchlands nearby. I am shocked, however, to turn south on Bell Springs Road when I come to an unmarked placename: New Harris. Outside of a road junction not even a derelict store.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn1kMXaX5SJopap99iiOZTBX39vLSb-p2FvRzWfOV5Z9bsEiulJeFU3YeaQM8DgW466Ibt-ELtyuZzH0QmcYDrlSq1cHnr_glAYBJO2hKM8WV1fgQtaXmfYPhHtOhWl3XjqYhnexb4tPacTVJMqDGbU8wmN-3oH59MuUqyjLcp47-oR-B0sIE-MRuDcw/s4530/9.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2356" data-original-width="4530" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn1kMXaX5SJopap99iiOZTBX39vLSb-p2FvRzWfOV5Z9bsEiulJeFU3YeaQM8DgW466Ibt-ELtyuZzH0QmcYDrlSq1cHnr_glAYBJO2hKM8WV1fgQtaXmfYPhHtOhWl3XjqYhnexb4tPacTVJMqDGbU8wmN-3oH59MuUqyjLcp47-oR-B0sIE-MRuDcw/w400-h208/9.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> But I am enjoying Bell Springs Road, another one of those routes I’ve coveted. Rising and falling over pasture lands and across high meadow grazing lands, there’s a remote on-top-of-the-world feeling with 360-degree views. To the east, the Yolla Bolly wilderness peak still have snow, between here and there rises Cain Rock where the NWPs golden spike was driven in about 1916. Cattle dot some areas, trees forest others. Random roads track over the ridge and down into the Eels River’s deep canyon. At some point down there is Island Mountain, site of a 0.8-mile tunnel, longest on the NWP route. But, in reaching the site of Bell Springs, I realize I’ve missed the necessary road had I wanted to use to trundle down and see that engineering marvel.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Bell Springs is home to a fire department with a red pickup and a third- or fourth-hand fire truck. The company’s sign may have been hand painted by a fourth grader with an affinity for balloon letters. Yet, a lovely slice of ruralness.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> It’s about twelve miles down to the junction of US 101. Closer to the highway, population seems more dense and less rancher-like. Once on the Federal Route, I have to remind myself to wick things up a bit in the Subaru as folks like to travel 65 miles per hour, not the 27 I’ve been enjoying for the bulk of the day. It’s two hours to home.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">I’m enamored</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> by the remoteness of our nearby Coast Range. I’m easily mesmerized into fantasies about life there when the nearest neighbors were mule deer, bald eagles, and the occasional mountain lion. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdstwWmLimY_80h62hUyA_X1ybnq3ysFPUiGUxdNQ-sLoraNLURblm7H3nCMlmmY4ang_ZQDGGgwwHzwHSunEhEhA_7Vw67nkqHx0mrVX1n9KTwOW5BmoaG5_OdPrXaADInBOE_tV55pq1-Y0ejTmr1x5fcmNdyGqQIsA-Ntjl4VAm_nJZ9XgrFYwCbQ/s4032/10.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2535" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdstwWmLimY_80h62hUyA_X1ybnq3ysFPUiGUxdNQ-sLoraNLURblm7H3nCMlmmY4ang_ZQDGGgwwHzwHSunEhEhA_7Vw67nkqHx0mrVX1n9KTwOW5BmoaG5_OdPrXaADInBOE_tV55pq1-Y0ejTmr1x5fcmNdyGqQIsA-Ntjl4VAm_nJZ9XgrFYwCbQ/s320/10.jpeg" width="201" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> After seven hours of bumping around, it seems to me that, other than timber and some grazing, there has never been much that could be monetized or Europeanized or exploited in these parts. Which is good. The true value of this region may be where this region takes you when you visit.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Let’s not tell anyone about it.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2022<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-23864341635334800452022-04-12T12:08:00.007-07:002022-04-12T15:37:16.625-07:00THE ARMSTRONG REDWOODS RETURN<p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…and We Return to Armstrong Redwoods<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcnuaINv7FGoEIZ72Tn7hE9PG5D5u-t43tRjCJfosXhxhrxhH4ftT-sbn6DLkVROFXuIdCqeKpGqpWLrdjNG2Wg1UftmDNw5IVlrr6LH45bEE8Feea9zsjm90KbzJFlOrGqu1g3ZOs3-2jjsCaYm-Avv8If8AMMl0rU3NAP4pa_-u_R02YD7mjD64I8w/s4032/1.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcnuaINv7FGoEIZ72Tn7hE9PG5D5u-t43tRjCJfosXhxhrxhH4ftT-sbn6DLkVROFXuIdCqeKpGqpWLrdjNG2Wg1UftmDNw5IVlrr6LH45bEE8Feea9zsjm90KbzJFlOrGqu1g3ZOs3-2jjsCaYm-Avv8If8AMMl0rU3NAP4pa_-u_R02YD7mjD64I8w/s320/1.jpeg" width="240" /></a></b></div><b><br /></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><b>A year-and-a-half ago, </b>the Walbridge Fire surged, burned and seemingly ravaged Armstrong Redwoods State Park just outside of Guerneville. Many living throughout Sonoma County and beyond recall stinging eyes and choking air brought about by smoke that that hung in the atmosphere for weeks.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDcy_7PcEpqyJnpy4pOgbYDyglLPYDAcWU3q_l90gJqOJ_aY6lrTf8TGGy2oFgV4I6TVqnevNOM5i85UZq0K-nChPM0nv4FjcclGZF_inLFTHhZTcEEPcBMXF9Gf_UCefh9bZ_5cgpCzo69r24smFO2qIsTtnHOM0MOcay7wSc3G9qqSTWH5Bk1-5O9A/s275/2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDcy_7PcEpqyJnpy4pOgbYDyglLPYDAcWU3q_l90gJqOJ_aY6lrTf8TGGy2oFgV4I6TVqnevNOM5i85UZq0K-nChPM0nv4FjcclGZF_inLFTHhZTcEEPcBMXF9Gf_UCefh9bZ_5cgpCzo69r24smFO2qIsTtnHOM0MOcay7wSc3G9qqSTWH5Bk1-5O9A/w400-h266/2.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">As the conflagration raged over vineyards and pastures, hillsides and dales, the fire swept through the Austin Creek Preserve and crept down the hill into the priceless redwood grove that has always been an area treasure. Monitoring the fire’s progress on the radio was much like listening to a late-night baseball game where team Redwood was being routed by team Inferno. What would remain when all was said and done?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Well, the good news</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> is that the treasure survived. On a recent weekday Candi, Edward (our dear old Aussie-lab mix) and I dropped by to check things out. The lovely trail from the entrance station to the Colonel Armstrong tree has been refurbished. At 1400-years-old, the Colonel Armstrong appears fabulous: a sentinel tall, strong and steady (and looking not a day over 1200.) <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrsPkbo-CTY1PceDeST4lwMcTnwBNbacad176F_xSwgDZjefWQe6B-egGsRLroKXIMRzAJLh_IwW8Ir3CSsEB4KdzVyo9NgjjFsgkn-F0UdEzF7OMwhgga78iDoHdns-pFrqL0P2bYtJeeGoT2V5Dosbm8mIK2ahgEqtrB5p8x96hVj2_Y8FakeZ6zOA/s3910/4.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3910" data-original-width="1931" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrsPkbo-CTY1PceDeST4lwMcTnwBNbacad176F_xSwgDZjefWQe6B-egGsRLroKXIMRzAJLh_IwW8Ir3CSsEB4KdzVyo9NgjjFsgkn-F0UdEzF7OMwhgga78iDoHdns-pFrqL0P2bYtJeeGoT2V5Dosbm8mIK2ahgEqtrB5p8x96hVj2_Y8FakeZ6zOA/w198-h400/4.jpeg" width="198" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The trail to the picnic area has been cleared as well. While the Walbridge Fire impacted the hillsides and meadows further up and some the park’s forest floor, the resiliency of the Sequoia stand is evident. Far from devastated, many of the trees in the lower reaches, though scorched, again provide a canopy of deep green. Redwood shoots ~ some already as tall as six feet ~ are springing out of ancient burls and stumps. Ferns and other forest flora are reestablishing themselves illuminated, in places, by those shafts of sunlight that make redwood forests so ethereal and cathedral-like. On our visit, the air was still and cool and sweet, the voices of other visitors hushed, because that’s what you do in a cathedral, right? <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoYBpCfTRhrU6BjXghC59nPSDlEN2ZQrGZiaG85x9gTk6ThU127yOXm-CqAZQ0SDh5GuwH_fHUJcfnrDuR3v4aK1_iWRnoILWN6id13qRBbYf_X-GqrGxORRfwqDqIPFmoS4MAej-vN81TSFi_e86KRRPZSpQ2pqrWRPIjInoHjRtzO1R8itTSIfQC_Q/s4032/3.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoYBpCfTRhrU6BjXghC59nPSDlEN2ZQrGZiaG85x9gTk6ThU127yOXm-CqAZQ0SDh5GuwH_fHUJcfnrDuR3v4aK1_iWRnoILWN6id13qRBbYf_X-GqrGxORRfwqDqIPFmoS4MAej-vN81TSFi_e86KRRPZSpQ2pqrWRPIjInoHjRtzO1R8itTSIfQC_Q/w400-h300/3.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Getting there</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">: North of Santa Rosa, exit US 101 at River Road; west to Guerneville; north on Armstrong Woods Road to entrance station. $10 day use fee, waived with a State Park Annual Pass ~ available at the gate. Lower trails are cleared and open, but Edward (the dog) was restricted to walking (on leash) only on paved roads. Pack a picnic, bring water and grandkids. Neighboring Austin Creek Preserve (up the hill) is still closed. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5tB3IO2OC2Z_ILGfbtUik-OreOqka04bDZ3WGHCVEX52sKv58xTK1UTLq_rgvshtL21COTudg02mRa5WtzQaUbenVAu9w4_Oww7aXun-d7BoU0_QffHttBZjm_j1akMhUw23vgeexWwx2q1VloqB88j7z-vWqjvKLcU8fJhMiCPfj7XICT2XX_3griw/s3975/5.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3975" data-original-width="2641" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5tB3IO2OC2Z_ILGfbtUik-OreOqka04bDZ3WGHCVEX52sKv58xTK1UTLq_rgvshtL21COTudg02mRa5WtzQaUbenVAu9w4_Oww7aXun-d7BoU0_QffHttBZjm_j1akMhUw23vgeexWwx2q1VloqB88j7z-vWqjvKLcU8fJhMiCPfj7XICT2XX_3griw/s320/5.jpeg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">As an aside</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">: When on a motorcycle ride in our area, frequently, I’ll stop, dismount and wander a few yards into one of our many redwood groves, just to listen to the angels whisper. It’s good to know those angels have returned to Armstrong Redwoods. Perhaps they never left.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2022<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-25283954249621466292022-04-08T09:16:00.011-07:002022-04-08T09:22:08.607-07:00441 VICTOR<p style="text-align: right;"> <i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">People You Meet on the Road</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Having curtailed</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> some motorcycle riding in anticipation of some anatomical micro-wave sessions, I did run a few errands on Mariolanza, the Moto Guzzi, the other day and stumbled into the following situation.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">I’d parked</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> in the motorcycle spaces at the corner of nearby little town’s iconic downtown square. Upon returning from an errand, I spied a gentleman – older than myself – eyeballing my ride. Even from behind, I could tell he was wistful. Perhaps it was the way he held his shoulders.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> As I slipped the key in the ignition, he said, “What’s that? A Guzzi?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Yep.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Nice restoration. What year?” He tugged at the leash of a fine-looking Doberman who was showing some degree of interest in Mariolanza’s rear tire.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “It’s a 2021, Guzzi’s 100<sup>th</sup> Anniversary model.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “They still make ‘em?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “They still make ‘em.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “I got me a Brit bike. A thumper. Can’t find nobody to work on it, though.” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Really. What brand?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “BSA.” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Wait? You’ve got a Victor?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Yeah. A 441 Victor. How did you know?” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCV5WYHxKeQOSaPM3qwIVoQArrTQbG8rmYo2MGfZyuwE6oM-l_7xnAm5ytQm3dDllkg_mkLmLHy6SI1hA8qzaxx_UirctTdV6oqlfJ58SblrVZpMTddkkHxmnlBe0mHKaY1_u4BTNos3378kxX9tf0uoa3gTzJ7Oxmo650WsZ1SfU3r8FMsof4JVy_DA/s1024/1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="654" data-original-width="1024" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCV5WYHxKeQOSaPM3qwIVoQArrTQbG8rmYo2MGfZyuwE6oM-l_7xnAm5ytQm3dDllkg_mkLmLHy6SI1hA8qzaxx_UirctTdV6oqlfJ58SblrVZpMTddkkHxmnlBe0mHKaY1_u4BTNos3378kxX9tf0uoa3gTzJ7Oxmo650WsZ1SfU3r8FMsof4JVy_DA/w400-h255/1.jpg" title="Google Image" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “You said, ‘BSA and Thumper.’ What else would it be?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Well, I do sorta recall a 250 single. Pour oil in the top and watch it drain out through the bottom. Not a problem with my Victor, but it has a few others and I can’t find anybody to work on it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Did you check the Zen House in Point Arena?” I’d had a very positive experience there, surrounding the rebuild of an ’86 BMW. I offered to write down some on-line info.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Oh, son.” [Ha! He called me ‘son.’] “I don’t do computers. Come to think of it, I don’t do carburetors anymore either.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Me neither.” Pointing to the Guzzi, “That’s why I got this one. Fuel injected.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Fuel injected? Bah!” He gave the Dobie a gentle tug. Then he said, “So, how is it you know about my bike?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Back when I was in high school, a 441 Victor with it’s yellow over brushed aluminum tank and pea-shooter exhaust was my dream bike. Light. Snazzy. Cool like Steve McQueen. Sounded cool, too. Tucka-tucka-tucka-tucka-tucka.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip6ZUDnTwe-3dwQIvkRYXxr1BsLYzzHlFtQ1b0e6r6N2smHebd5s4Z4a6kybZDw0KkHm3x4q_yHI6GuSSunjNFtylv1v26ePtQX9vsucQmJguPVcjmENHe43QpJUAFh9INWUWRLz6oCswZspYusz7aLfwtdFs6HezRqilkW82rme2di0Twzg1-3cTzbg/s490/2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="368" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip6ZUDnTwe-3dwQIvkRYXxr1BsLYzzHlFtQ1b0e6r6N2smHebd5s4Z4a6kybZDw0KkHm3x4q_yHI6GuSSunjNFtylv1v26ePtQX9vsucQmJguPVcjmENHe43QpJUAFh9INWUWRLz6oCswZspYusz7aLfwtdFs6HezRqilkW82rme2di0Twzg1-3cTzbg/s320/2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Yeah.” The gent grinned broadly. “Tucka-tucka-tucka-tucka-tucka.” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “College kid livin’ nearby had a Victor,” I continued. “Called it the ‘One Lung-er.’ Said he wouldn’t ever see himself comin’ the other way on one. Not like a Honda or a Yamaha… <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “…What year is yours?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “I bought it new in ’67 from the dealer in San Jose.” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “New in ’67? No kidding?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “No kidding. Dropped into the shop one afternoon, just to nose around. Sales guy put me on it and took me for a test ride. No helmet. No license. Nothin’. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Sales guy was in front of me on a big Lightning or some such when he crashed. I ended up getting him to the hospital, but then went back and bought the Victor.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Nice piece of history. And with its own history. You’ve had it since ’67?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “The whole time.” He nodded. “You sure there’s a shop in Point Arena? I never heard of… what’d you call it?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Zen House. From Pirsig’s book, I think. On the highway – the Pacific Coast Highway – the main drag, behind the only gas pumps in town. You can’t miss it.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Oh, son, I’ll bet I can…”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgllvZtNKbBqhQ-KMVf-2eB5R8o1G9JhYwv8GTVUuDhuUw7XtHFW4yXesFI8zXf_9o_-qzvx5lkaZguU8kyd-yGPGiQi9QKapWo8FXbamhbVAAhDFHMZG_HNvJAyDEtK9Iqcp4HN-gzMOOzRrnJfa2RpTJWJmXVsoy8nKnBypIyecFpmQzGVv4WQcjxlw/s400/3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgllvZtNKbBqhQ-KMVf-2eB5R8o1G9JhYwv8GTVUuDhuUw7XtHFW4yXesFI8zXf_9o_-qzvx5lkaZguU8kyd-yGPGiQi9QKapWo8FXbamhbVAAhDFHMZG_HNvJAyDEtK9Iqcp4HN-gzMOOzRrnJfa2RpTJWJmXVsoy8nKnBypIyecFpmQzGVv4WQcjxlw/w400-h320/3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">I hope to cross paths</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> with the Victor on the road someday soon. I’ll be on the Guzzi.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2022<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-26544646417079774592022-04-04T16:06:00.000-07:002022-04-04T16:06:18.825-07:00WHEN I THOUGHT I WAS GONNA DIE… …BUT FOUND OUT I WASN’T<p> <b style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Prostate Cancer</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> is among the most common forms of cancer found in men aged 60 to 65 and up. The older one becomes, the more likely that such a carnival will show up in one’s prostate. The medical community has yet to figure out what causes prostate cancer, and the individual (like me) will not know the carnival is going on until evidence of a higher-than-normal PSA (Prostate Specific Antigen) shows up in panels from regular blood tests. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Guys: if you’re of a certain age, DO get those panels done.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Check with your physician about how frequently you should have this assessment.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I let mine slip and, when the data came in, my PSA number was 34.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Normal is below five.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">(Check with a real doctor ~ or see the references cited below ~ to find out if that last statement is even close to accurate.)</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis3As4XiLHtFQURNkIjv8oWfFkHEr84Jh1A3HYeo1UmfVtP2h3MOpiyvKhBQ-1WUtEHdr3Q-mJvsVbN-nD0P3e3MX_i5HEJ45Sp82GerbLe5jmMwS_xMiTKCOz6uJ82PXw61jKT6cRE1BTnIS-OaMYfsFfx7nUkCUXLUNPt4Sgo9UharLcEXhFsDaBVA/s3249/1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1483" data-original-width="3249" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis3As4XiLHtFQURNkIjv8oWfFkHEr84Jh1A3HYeo1UmfVtP2h3MOpiyvKhBQ-1WUtEHdr3Q-mJvsVbN-nD0P3e3MX_i5HEJ45Sp82GerbLe5jmMwS_xMiTKCOz6uJ82PXw61jKT6cRE1BTnIS-OaMYfsFfx7nUkCUXLUNPt4Sgo9UharLcEXhFsDaBVA/s320/1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p>With that score of 34, it was clear I had prostate cancer, and, to me, the word cancer always meant “get your affairs in order.”</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">But here’s what I found out: Prostate cancer, while eventually found in many (if not most) aging men, is also among the most successfully addressed.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Fewer than 1% of men diagnosed with it die within the first ten years.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Further testing (CATscan, PETscan) indicated that the show had not yet gone on the road in my case, and it was stll confined to my enlarged prostate. Radiological treatment ~ what’s been recommended for me ~ will likely do the trick, but the punctuation mark brought about by this whole discovery/process got me to thinking about life’s common circumstances and how my view of them changed. And changed again…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">A few examples</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">* Candi goes to the shoe store. It’s usually an hour and a half and she may or may not come out with a new pair of shoes. Generally, I wander about, and feeling sorry for the salesperson, pick out something I might like, whether I need ‘em or not.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_5Q-i67uuE_8v8FRsvzxFaZc3kWSmn62M7VZjaIka2ut64M2i3Lplh-0rtb3guwesAp8mX3imdQeprredoGQ5brAbcGL7u34rVGRVG5RN52s-TI_zBs2urX9DqztAdX5WugQUD4VUGauU5oCd0Q1W_yv6zs9sIu9Je0dVhn7gVs40mm4ljm5bFmDoNw/s4032/2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_5Q-i67uuE_8v8FRsvzxFaZc3kWSmn62M7VZjaIka2ut64M2i3Lplh-0rtb3guwesAp8mX3imdQeprredoGQ5brAbcGL7u34rVGRVG5RN52s-TI_zBs2urX9DqztAdX5WugQUD4VUGauU5oCd0Q1W_yv6zs9sIu9Je0dVhn7gVs40mm4ljm5bFmDoNw/s320/2.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When I thought I was gonna die…</span></i><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I sat on a bench outside the store thinking that I’d probably never wear out the shoes I already have in my closet.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When I found out I wasn’t…</span></i><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I realized I could really use a new pair of Birkenstocks. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">* We love our Subaru Forester. At just under 100,000 miles, the trusty thing is far from worn out, but on longer road trips, it is not as smooth and comfortable as its larger stablemate, the Outback. And now that we have the fully electric Chevy Bolt, the Forester is used mainly for longer road trips.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYJLo5ue3OrdsrlplREUbQgyS7lQj1ABW27KrLrt-8zhb9-9Y-nSOY4dy1ViYYMRb6ZOI9pes-YG3THIQ83xpM0ZjrVb2RMqSF_r-5zBCkktfYlrPrg7QalRCgpLbrVx8u90hWK3bA8Nt7TY01rJBbdLlq_iPxPBUCZcqNeDEX5xK7q3K9nekF0v-24Q/s4592/3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3448" data-original-width="4592" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYJLo5ue3OrdsrlplREUbQgyS7lQj1ABW27KrLrt-8zhb9-9Y-nSOY4dy1ViYYMRb6ZOI9pes-YG3THIQ83xpM0ZjrVb2RMqSF_r-5zBCkktfYlrPrg7QalRCgpLbrVx8u90hWK3bA8Nt7TY01rJBbdLlq_iPxPBUCZcqNeDEX5xK7q3K9nekF0v-24Q/s320/3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When I thought I was gonna die…</span></i><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I figured the purchase of a new Sube (or any vehicle) would be a colossal waste. Like all those shoes, I wasn’t gonna wear this one out.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When I found out I wasn’t…</span></i><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Dang! That new Outback Wilderness looks cool! And rugged! Think of all the back roads I’ll be able to explore in comfort! Throughout the entire west!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">* What about those celebrations that place dots on the timelines of lives of little ones and loved ones?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBFuW2Fwd0XvA35H7F8wdBC7PDSBzAPWSTxKg8pkOlUlHBbb8qqI5RzOxSMZm0sf6skZL0f4mWxVydKbrV3Kg6VcywKeKV6QJZ9nr8Uy5Jcz2EEg7X5q2TU7nGsUB0ZOm7Ry4DOQIVx_NEmFqtYYv0xUPJMReVVFwNW6oT-1lQB19oMJLTELDYydodVA/s5152/4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5152" data-original-width="3864" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBFuW2Fwd0XvA35H7F8wdBC7PDSBzAPWSTxKg8pkOlUlHBbb8qqI5RzOxSMZm0sf6skZL0f4mWxVydKbrV3Kg6VcywKeKV6QJZ9nr8Uy5Jcz2EEg7X5q2TU7nGsUB0ZOm7Ry4DOQIVx_NEmFqtYYv0xUPJMReVVFwNW6oT-1lQB19oMJLTELDYydodVA/s320/4.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When I thought I was gonna die…</span></i><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I was sad for more than a moment, but not much more than a moment. The overwhelming emotion was of disappointment for all the things I was gonna miss.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When I found out I wasn’t…</span></i><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I returned to thinking about birthdays, graduations, weddings, holidays and all the stuff that goes along with such celebrations. Do you have to buy presents for each of those occasions? Maybe. But what you really need to do is show up. I’ll be showin’ up. Glad tidings.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">* And then there’s the world circumstance…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh71WsGeMwk5aKjOhcSulgVX2ZNeiaqkAvMTPQMZjrVfgpgRxS_fLKOtOAXJmNiXN-soKtWHWjK4qK4r_jY23xdbSQG5B48jXCGFUhzNRE5J0VJA-2pJUE0ozb89IBItp3Hbl9Ytw8BwXzd1QIPJuYiKObpLOWEg-P0zUwXdTqPT1Is7X1cISEgbSx0w/s1200/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="898" data-original-width="1200" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh71WsGeMwk5aKjOhcSulgVX2ZNeiaqkAvMTPQMZjrVfgpgRxS_fLKOtOAXJmNiXN-soKtWHWjK4qK4r_jY23xdbSQG5B48jXCGFUhzNRE5J0VJA-2pJUE0ozb89IBItp3Hbl9Ytw8BwXzd1QIPJuYiKObpLOWEg-P0zUwXdTqPT1Is7X1cISEgbSx0w/s320/5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When I thought I was gonna die…</span></i><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I found myself no longer as concerned about climate change or world peace. Disappointed that my baby-boomer generation more than less screwed up what was left to us by the greatest generation, it was a relief to not have to worry about such things any longer and only hope our kids will be able to cobble together the pieces we’ve left and rebuild a better planet and a better community of nations.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When I found out I wasn’t</span></i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">… Well, crap! After the radiological treatments prove successful, I’m going to have to reenter the fight.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">* Recently, I posted a satirical conversation with God wherein we discussed my demise and what to do with the time I had left. Several of my associates thought it was damned funny (because it was damned funny) but several others thought I’d just be damned for my blasphemy. So, what about the afterlife? Will I make it to heaven?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8jxSDc4IBWQiOmWEsnEuTdLoDq9U6tdGj_amuAStGBz80r8TpdCUoWiOMA8vzxhfiiypuxn4M10x7XUZHwa62TXtt2nimHq1rC0-NA2TgsAFAvuXvVhk_kaAB5v5ydy-wOomit7apVpH1StqyQAOpAFDtaJw6hXaUiA_4UzN9iws_G5-pMgB_vvUCw/s956/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="794" data-original-width="956" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8jxSDc4IBWQiOmWEsnEuTdLoDq9U6tdGj_amuAStGBz80r8TpdCUoWiOMA8vzxhfiiypuxn4M10x7XUZHwa62TXtt2nimHq1rC0-NA2TgsAFAvuXvVhk_kaAB5v5ydy-wOomit7apVpH1StqyQAOpAFDtaJw6hXaUiA_4UzN9iws_G5-pMgB_vvUCw/s320/6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When I thought I was gonna die…</span></i><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I had to give some thought how my life has been and some thought to heaven. I’ve been more than fortunate to live in some of the most beautiful environs in the State of California (and the US, for that matter) ~ the foothills of the Sierra, the pine forests of the Cascades, and now, spittin’ distance from among the most stunning coastlines anywhere. As an educator, I believe my service to kids and teachers has helped them in their success. </span><span style="font-size: 18.66666603088379px;">I’ve enjoyed the companionship of at least three wonderful dogs who, when (if?) I get to the other side, I know will charge up to me, tumble me to the ground and lick my face with abandon while I just giggle.</span><span style="font-size: 18.66666603088379px;"> </span><span style="font-size: 18.66666603088379px;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">As a father and grandfather, I know I could have/should have done more but I get warm and welcoming hugs every time I see one of ‘em.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjOJZvYWGBpQthqT7wgF9B0X9aH_mGxdapveTdyMpZBB_L7L2guSTMKim_jcoXytUprdhqjY740J-wdZEUQR2kM0Eyai_-G74w2w8eqMMsFe3s1nju6UwQt8GES4F6_uUxz5JQlh7G8XnrOLQhdM9zgxwlwu_1NC3KcJR7LlgbyTRVZmUGWVF24jCoNA/s4592/7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3448" data-original-width="4592" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjOJZvYWGBpQthqT7wgF9B0X9aH_mGxdapveTdyMpZBB_L7L2guSTMKim_jcoXytUprdhqjY740J-wdZEUQR2kM0Eyai_-G74w2w8eqMMsFe3s1nju6UwQt8GES4F6_uUxz5JQlh7G8XnrOLQhdM9zgxwlwu_1NC3KcJR7LlgbyTRVZmUGWVF24jCoNA/s320/7.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">And, as far as angels go, seems like I’ve been in a relationship with one for nearly 40 years.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">So, I have to ask myself: “How is this not heaven?”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">When I found out I wasn’t</span></i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">… Yippee! I get a few more years here in heaven!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6xQ_tGT-9YipWCg46JTJuLYu8F7dw2NU49NE9WiG_w5YuMJiu10mmIIFC5hBZBVusxtRpTfmX2N9ypYyKvuxFnj_-tPqWbiGdv5DeYGxjhuuTy42ux5ZtiVg3gKUant0eXrKw9eS_XAbAv8-rW4n9uelwnB6So0ZuXXM7Jkoklodhf4eF9jDabgKaag/s4032/8.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6xQ_tGT-9YipWCg46JTJuLYu8F7dw2NU49NE9WiG_w5YuMJiu10mmIIFC5hBZBVusxtRpTfmX2N9ypYyKvuxFnj_-tPqWbiGdv5DeYGxjhuuTy42ux5ZtiVg3gKUant0eXrKw9eS_XAbAv8-rW4n9uelwnB6So0ZuXXM7Jkoklodhf4eF9jDabgKaag/s320/8.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Bottom lines?</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Guys, get checked out or you may find yourself checking out. Everyone else: God’s advice from the previous post still stands. See you on the road.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">o0o<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">For more information</span></b> on Prostate Cancer, check out these resources <u>and</u> see your doctor:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">National Cancer Institute: <a href="https://www.cancer.gov/types/prostate" style="color: #954f72;">https://www.cancer.gov/types/prostate</a><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">American Cancer Society (recommendations for early detection): <a href="https://www.cancer.org/cancer/prostate-cancer/detection-diagnosis-staging/acs-recommendations.html" style="color: #954f72;">https://www.cancer.org/cancer/prostate-cancer/detection-diagnosis-staging/acs-recommendations.html</a><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Mayo Clinic: <a href="https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/prostate-cancer/diagnosis-treatment/drc-20353093" style="color: #954f72;">https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/prostate-cancer/diagnosis-treatment/drc-20353093</a><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Kaiser Permanente: <a href="https://healthy.kaiserpermanente.org/northern-california/health-wellness/health-encyclopedia/he.prostate-cancer.hw78220" style="color: #954f72;">https://healthy.kaiserpermanente.org/northern-california/health-wellness/health-encyclopedia/he.prostate-cancer.hw78220</a><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">Stanford Health: <a href="https://stanfordhealthcare.org/medical-conditions/cancer/prostate-cancer.html" style="color: #954f72;">https://stanfordhealthcare.org/medical-conditions/cancer/prostate-cancer.html</a><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">USF Medical Center: <a href="https://www.ucsfhealth.org/clinics/prostate-cancer-center" style="color: #954f72;">https://www.ucsfhealth.org/clinics/prostate-cancer-center</a><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2022<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-12021075839780816842022-03-28T19:19:00.004-07:002022-03-28T20:23:03.788-07:00ME ‘N’ GOD TALK PROSTATE<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB-uuM32W3QKzc2QCjm0n9AHGPGJctk4t7VUHx5v1WRCp8Nm7ov1ojI5ffJB2pslbkEDlcHItLTcrDxN3whLSJWXkIjHsknabwQKl9n_P_QR9lrz0BvKWgNDqb8ka-tZTWbACSlWKcASKDMKxq2b_a6_vzFdBvgvKZUTW7Br8A0KJO1fD8pLjrHkjc0w/s956/3530.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="794" data-original-width="956" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB-uuM32W3QKzc2QCjm0n9AHGPGJctk4t7VUHx5v1WRCp8Nm7ov1ojI5ffJB2pslbkEDlcHItLTcrDxN3whLSJWXkIjHsknabwQKl9n_P_QR9lrz0BvKWgNDqb8ka-tZTWbACSlWKcASKDMKxq2b_a6_vzFdBvgvKZUTW7Br8A0KJO1fD8pLjrHkjc0w/s320/3530.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Hello God?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: H’yup.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: I’m David. Do you have a minute?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: I know who you are.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: You do?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Of course, David. You’re the writer.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Wow!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: I particularly like that 23<sup>rd</sup> Psalm of yours.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: I didn’t write the 23<sup>rd</sup> Psalm.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: But your name is David and you said you’re a writer.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: <i>You</i> said I was a writer. And I am. Sorta.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Sorta?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Yes. Sorta. I write a blog.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Oh Me! What’s a blog?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: It’s a venue where you can make stuff up… you know… and share your ideas without having ‘em scrutinized by an editor. No agents or publishing houses to deal with… Hell, it doesn’t even… Oops… Sorry…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Go on.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: …doesn’t even have to be factual.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: I’m familiar with the genre. They’ve been around a lot longer than you have, David. Some folks call ‘em scriptures. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> When did they start calling ‘em… What did you call ‘em?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Blogs. I write a blog.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Yes. A blog. On parchment?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: No. Electronically. On the net… You know, the web…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: On the what? How do you… Never mind. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> [SUBVOCALIZED] Jesus! Kids these days.. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">JESUS: [OFF STAGE] D’you call me, Dad?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: No! I’m talkin’ to David, here…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">JESUS: The 23<sup>rd</sup> Psalm guy? From Judea?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: I’m not sure where he’s from. Now don’t interrupt, kid! I’m havin’ a conversation here…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> [TO ‘ME’] So, what do you write about?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Oh… Umm… Travel. History of California… the West. And stuff I see or make up or think about while I’m riding my motorcycle. Although sometimes I just sing Sinatra tunes.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Ah! Sinatra. Wish he’da made it… [SINGS] <i>Some day…</i><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">TOGETHER: <i>…when I’m awfully low, <o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> when the world is cold, <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I will feel a glow just thinking of you…</span></i><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> [PAUSE. GOD AND ‘ME’ MAKE EYE CONTACT]<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Wait! You ride a motorcycle? They’re an abomination!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: I’m sorry. I didn’t know that. They sure are exhilarating, though. Breath-taking.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Lots of exhilarating, breath-taking things are an abomination. What kind of motorcycle is it?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: A Ducati. It’s Italian.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: <i>Loquerisne mihi ex Italia? Papa non es homo?<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: What?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: I’m sorry. I slipped into Latin. I figured it out. You’re from Italy…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: No, I’m stateside. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Stateside?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: The new world.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: There’s a new world? Why wouldn’t I know this?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Other side of the planet from Italy.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Oh. Got it. Anyway, I asked if you were the Pope. A lot of folks think I have a hand in picking him.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Yeah, well, a lot of folks think it’s just politics.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: It must be something like that. I sure as hell don’t pick winners and losers. Not even for the Super Bowl.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Wait! You just said, “Sure as hell.” So, hell is a sure thing?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Have you seen Ukraine lately? Aleppo, Syria? North Korea? Barstow…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Point taken.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: So, David. What did you wake me up for?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Oh! I didn’t mean to wake you up. I can call back later.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: No. No. I don’t get too many calls lately. Most are just the self-righteous who dial me up and want me to condemn this or that. I tell ‘em they’re barkin’ up the wrong tree – tell ‘em maybe Billy Graham’s kid can do that for ‘em, or that Ted Cruz fella. He’s pretty good at condemning things – and then I hang up. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: - - - <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Saayyyy… You don’t want me to condemn anything or anybody, do you?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Not off the top of my head. I’m sure I could come up with somebody or something if I thought about it.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Don’t bother yourself. No need. If somebody or something needs condemning, I’ve already got it figured out. I’ve got almost everything figured out. Like I did with you and that 23<sup>rd</sup>Psalm.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: But I told you I didn’t write the 23<sup>rd</sup> Psalm.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Hey! I’m fallible.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: What? Fallible? You?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Sure. You know that part about people being made in My image?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Yeah.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Well, are people fallible?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Umm… Yeah.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Well then, wouldn’t it follow that I’m fallible, too? Certainly, I’ve screwed up from time to time. Earthquakes? Floods? Plagues? Locusts? Cable television? Those were just screw ups on my part.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: But that’s not what the Good Book tells us.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Do you think I had anything to do with your so-called Good Book?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Didn’t you?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Look. I’ve made stuff up. The fish of the sea. The birds of the air. The beasts of the field. But the Good Book? Someone else made <i>that</i> up.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Someone else?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Sure! Why should I toot my own horn? I leave that to Gabriel or, if he’s not available, Satchmo. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Louis Armstrong made it? I heard he smoked weed and sh… stuff.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Louis Armstrong made it.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: But Sinatra didn’t…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: What can I say? I work in mysterious ways…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: [AFTER A PAUSE] So, what do you do with your time?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Time? What’s that but an invention of mankind?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: I never thought of it that way…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Before you all invented time, as I recall, the sun came up and everybody did some things, then the sun went down, and everybody went to sleep. Simple. Perfection, I’d call it. Then you all invent time and screw it up.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Now wait a minute, sir… I mean, your highness… I mean…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Call me God. It’s short. It’s sorta sweet. It’s direct.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Okay, “God.” Look, I didn’t invent time. I didn’t invent much of anything other than those motorcycle stories and history tidbits I post on my blog.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Do others like your work? Some folks like <i>my</i> work. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> If someone likes your work, it kinda gives a reason for your… your… existence.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: So, is there a reason for existence for everybody?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: That would have been a good plan.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: So, you didn’t have a plan?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Well, to be honest with you, not really. What happened was short, sweet, and simple. A bit like a Science Fair project for a fifth grader. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Science Fair?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Sure. You see, hundreds of billions of what you folks call years ago, I created a couple of gas clouds and I had them floating around in space. Then, to see what might happen, I exhaled a puff on one and then the other and they sorta collided. I’d figured that nothing would happen, or at worst, the combined clouds might turn green or turquoise, then just kinda dissipate. But wow! Did I get that wrong! Hell of an explosion! You shoulda seen it!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: So, the whole thing was more like an accident?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Accident? <i>Accident!</i> I’m not sure I could admit anything like that. I have to think of my standing with… with… umm… the faithful. I mean, I may bungle some things but…. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: [INTERUPTING] But what?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Look! Nobody’s perfect. But, that said, David, I’d advise you to remember that you’re talking to God here. And I’m the <i>last</i> entity you want hanging up on you.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Oh. Y…y…yes. Sorry.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Hey! Not a problem! I’m all about forgiveness. All you gotta do is ask…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Anyway, as a result of the blast, a bunch of bits of stuff… matter… phlogiston…. started flying out all over the place. Icy stuff. Molten stuff. The hot stuff spun around until it formed these beautiful, almost perfect balls. Planets, like that one you’re on. And ever since that happened, I just sit back and watch… monitor things. Most of this is outside of my control.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: How long ago was this?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: I don’t do time, remember. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">[ASIDE] Although that Donald Trump character probably should.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: So, you just sit back and watch.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Yes. I guess it’s like a giant… what do you call ‘em?.. video game. Like your alternate reality, except it’s <i>real</i> reality. So, yeah. For me, I just sit back and watch my universe expand.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Your universe? Are there others?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Well, I think Zeus has one. And several other guys.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Guys?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: You don’t think a bunch of old white men came up with male dominance on their own, do you?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: - - -<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Another one of my screw ups.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Well, I’m afraid I’ve got another one to tell you about.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Oh, yeah?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Yeah. Let me ask you a question.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Shoot.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: How’s your prostate?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: My what?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Your prostate. It’s a little gland in your lower belly that produces hormones and fluids and the stuff that helps men with their part in creating new life.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: You create new life?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Yep. I suppose it’s part of that chain reaction you set off with your Big Bang Science Fair experiment. Did you get a ribbon or anything for that?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: No. I <i>do</i> recall singing my whiskers pretty good.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Well, the prostate is about the size of a walnut, although, on you, it might be bigger. For you, I’d bet an XXXL.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: I’m… well… fit for my age.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Well, the prostate, like damned near everything else you created, is made up of cells.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Cells? Like what Socrates or OJ was in?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: No, silly… I mean sir… I mean… Oh, God.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Yes?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: A cell is a living unit. A building block. A membrane like a balloon filled with fluid and some sort of a nucleus that regiments and regulates how big it gets and how it fits in with others.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Sounds governmental.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Actually, it’s biological. Except…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Except what? <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Except when for some reason unknown to us… maybe known to you… <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Search me. I don’t even know what you’re talking about here…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: …the cells mutate or change and no longer fit together correctly. Then a man can’t pee, can’t develop a… well, can’t reproduce… and sometimes the crazy cells start to invade other parts of the body. Usually happens once a guy is fifty to sixty years old. Maybe older.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: I don’t do time, remember?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Yeah. But you’re old. So, how’s your prostate? Can you pee? Can you have kids?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Well, David, if you’ll recall, the last time I fathered a child, the whole thing was a bit of a fiasco.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Don’t get me started on that! But here’s my question. I’ve lived a pretty clean life, didn’t do drugs, never smoked much other than the occasional cigar, attended church for a while…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: For a while?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Yeah. Had to quit. Evangelicals. Money changers. Bastards hiding behind the skirts of believers and the gullible in order to do their evil.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Of course. Another of my great disappointments.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Drank a little scotch. Maybe too much.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: What kind?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Lagavulin 16.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Nice. I prefer the Oban. Nectar of the… well… Me.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Anyway, about a month ago, they did me a blood draw and, in checking things out, found there’s a bit of a carnival going on in my prostate. Now they say they have to cut it out or zap it…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: I could zap it for you…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: No thanks. I’ve seen what happened with your last experiment.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: So, what’s your question?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Well, they say it’s pretty curable, but if they don’t catch it in time… and they may not have in my case… the mutant cells may spread throughout my body, and I may die.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Really? How soon?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: You don’t do time, remember?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Right. Sorry.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: So, here’s my question. They say you see all and know all…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: David. I’m not the Wizard of Oz. I’m not even sure I’m the man behind the curtain anymore.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Okay. Okay. I’m just worried that things are gonna come to an end before I’m through with all I want to do.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: David, there’s not a thinking person alive that doesn’t have the same concern as they peer into that valley of the shadow you wrote about. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: I didn’t write the…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Shush, now! You want my advice?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Uh… Sure.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Then listen: Use your current… umm... circumstance as a motivator to make the best of the… what do you call it?... the <i>time</i> you have. Live, love, write, dream. Got any unfinished projects?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: Yeah.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Well, just finish ‘em and rejoice. Then, what the hell, start another. Okay?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: - - -<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Oh, but keep this in mind: As long you insist on tearing around on that damned Ducati, it’s likely that it won’t be the prostate that does you in…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-transform: uppercase;">A MASSIVE BOOM RESONATES, ECHOING FOR SEVERAL SECONDS…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-transform: uppercase;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: Well crap!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">ME: What was that?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">GOD: [<span style="text-transform: uppercase;">RISES, SIGHS AUDIBLY</span>] Mother Nature. Looks like somebody tried to pass off another cheap-assed stick of margarine as butter again. Haven’t you people learned that it’s not nice to fool with her?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">© 2022<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-61128932008250050872022-02-14T20:01:00.002-08:002022-03-28T20:02:57.406-07:00THE GREAT REDWOOD TRAIL: DREAMS AND CHALLENGES<p> <i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Part 3 (of 3): </span></i><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Rails to Trails in Our Backyard</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">In my garage</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> rests a beautiful Peugeot ten-speed that I purchased new in 1972. Back then I used it to commute to class at Chico State and later, occasionally, to my teaching assignment eight miles south in Durham on a bike path that once was the route of the Sacramento Northern Railway. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgGdXR5Gfw2QoiWimDrIljxBeC7RY3r1y0daHMul4gIdimb-7DktRnfFpbn3ROa-F_3T62vPYSR5q5ShLIi5Fh1zdCdnth85NNpOsOm332kSpfMpdSWUlo5Zy-AgWddUVmDesBy7k28-EBARh3A32ECl0Qj4UEKZt3jZNOJp4CK9UG8NaD_6yl8nloR4A=s800" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="535" data-original-width="800" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgGdXR5Gfw2QoiWimDrIljxBeC7RY3r1y0daHMul4gIdimb-7DktRnfFpbn3ROa-F_3T62vPYSR5q5ShLIi5Fh1zdCdnth85NNpOsOm332kSpfMpdSWUlo5Zy-AgWddUVmDesBy7k28-EBARh3A32ECl0Qj4UEKZt3jZNOJp4CK9UG8NaD_6yl8nloR4A=w400-h268" width="400" /></a><br /></div><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> So, the idea of a hiking/biking path from Cloverdale to Humboldt Bay sets my mind to dreaming of hopping on the Peugeot and pedaling the entire distance. Imagine! Following the route of the old Northwestern Pacific through vineyards and foothills to Ukiah and Willits then though the rugged and remote Eel River canyon, tunneling beneath stands of redwoods and madrone, ultimately arriving at the coast with its sea gull calls and wisps of salt air. [Understand that I get a bit tuckered out just cycling back from the coffee joint just a few blocks downtown, but that’s beside the point.]</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiZ_u9lK2267-Qsf1862PNN-4VXKS4ognXesWBZLSXBnU2Cr8qvprbz4iYuFc_rj9LxOzo6CIIVDc8LFLl9d79P1JRnKz5xfTTOb0eLpIh6EyPXj_GsRii0z1nVj4XJTASXmIBc35WnMU68H0ebqOvPAsoxUwhKKO1NUBRj8w7mnc7MTUL28WlA089Lgw=s245" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="206" data-original-width="245" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiZ_u9lK2267-Qsf1862PNN-4VXKS4ognXesWBZLSXBnU2Cr8qvprbz4iYuFc_rj9LxOzo6CIIVDc8LFLl9d79P1JRnKz5xfTTOb0eLpIh6EyPXj_GsRii0z1nVj4XJTASXmIBc35WnMU68H0ebqOvPAsoxUwhKKO1NUBRj8w7mnc7MTUL28WlA089Lgw=w400-h336" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">In the early 1900s</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">, the NWP appeared to be a good transportation idea, one that would link the Eureka area with the outside world, sending redwood south and agricultural goods, manufactured products, and tourists north. But geology, geomorphology, and weather ~ essentially Mother Nature, herself ~ had other ideas. So, railbanking the route (preserving the grade but no longer enabling rail traffic) and repurposing it as a recreational trail seems a good use of her remains. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> A roadblock may be around the bend, however. A group interested in transporting coal from Wyoming’s Powder River Basin (Hey! That’s Walt Longmire’s neck of the woods!) to export markets in Asia has proposed revitalizing the old NWP as a critical link from the Union Pacific right-of-way near Suisun to a yet-to-be-built transshipment facility at Humboldt Bay. Called the North Coast Railroad Company, the group has filed formal opposition to the proposal to railbank the old NWP route and convert it to trail. The Company intends to acquire the line “and restore it to operating condition to support future, high-volume traffic flows.” The company claims that it has $1.2 billion in their pocket(s), but those in the know suggest it would cost twice that to restore the line. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiR6KTQVPaA_Y872HA4fDbF-1qRdgaVr-3LLHfcBM3Zd-msDfEu8Rn5RD3PZgHslSzt9CBVXM3GmBC7VsCt_fJE4ZqOl_S18yEpJCh_6zfOy8nAPzvro5nu_gOanQMnxJ7-9Zg8Fdzisa6dbKlGbI8TOXIvAsX5xcLnt3EwCzVja8KNEAvi-lACj_OM7w=s200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="197" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiR6KTQVPaA_Y872HA4fDbF-1qRdgaVr-3LLHfcBM3Zd-msDfEu8Rn5RD3PZgHslSzt9CBVXM3GmBC7VsCt_fJE4ZqOl_S18yEpJCh_6zfOy8nAPzvro5nu_gOanQMnxJ7-9Zg8Fdzisa6dbKlGbI8TOXIvAsX5xcLnt3EwCzVja8KNEAvi-lACj_OM7w=w394-h400" width="394" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span> <span> </span></span>Political leaders ranging from local city council members to area Congress-folk are lining up against the efforts to return freight traffic for a couple of reasons. 1) Globally, the growing belief that burning fossil fuel such as coal is harmful to the planet; and 2) locally, the persnickety nature of Mother Nature and her inclination to toss a trainload of subbituminous coal into the Eel in the event of a track failure or landslide. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> It will be interesting to see if the coal train somehow derails the Great Redwood Trail.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Absent the above</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">, it may be ten or more years before the Great Redwood Trail comes fully to fruition. In those years, issues like the protection of neighboring property, accommodation of overnight campers, infrastructure maintenance and trail security will be addressed and resolved. However, given that time frame, my dream of pedaling from here to Eureka on a then-60-year-old bicycle ~ at age 80-plus myself ~ may always be just a dream. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> But that old Peugeot is a darned good bike and I have a strapping grandkid or two who’ll be about 25 at the time. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi6qJ5I61fDXTR0R4pSFvak9AR0Ib_LD6WBxww6BLMmhJPMVNvHv5TDgyJZBmwoihAyOYAY6CaR1AELahwNKoPqdZRdWqxlDGA95WXFJO9whRRtoWSEKzWDTy53fmNiKwINoTsxC-4CCrNrMhS1SZJPvIv-ISkBwIIjCWdyhMM6W_hEaarEfGz9WG1Law=s1500" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi6qJ5I61fDXTR0R4pSFvak9AR0Ib_LD6WBxww6BLMmhJPMVNvHv5TDgyJZBmwoihAyOYAY6CaR1AELahwNKoPqdZRdWqxlDGA95WXFJO9whRRtoWSEKzWDTy53fmNiKwINoTsxC-4CCrNrMhS1SZJPvIv-ISkBwIIjCWdyhMM6W_hEaarEfGz9WG1Law=w200-h200" width="200" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Hmmmm… </span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Guess who might be getting an antique ten speed and, along with that, a mission…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Resources:<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">For more information on the history of the Northwestern Pacific Railroad, check out: <a href="http://www.nwprrhs.org/history.html" style="color: #954f72;">http://www.nwprrhs.org/history.html</a><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;">For progress and details on the Great Redwood Trail, see: <a href="http://www.thegreatredwoodtrail.org/" style="color: #954f72;">http://www.thegreatredwoodtrail.org</a><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2022<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-11760624779932968062022-01-31T09:18:00.002-08:002022-01-31T09:18:46.660-08:00THE GREAT REDWOOD TRAIL: CONCEPT AND PROPOSAL<p> <i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Part 2 (of 3): </span></i><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Rails to Trails in our Backyard</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgx3pDsr0csOI6f1_PJxptoGPar3Y124MMVyA4tie5cCTtLHWVi2VDNyEAlRTudcCeunzxmfHgOHSPt3i6iKdkDHBVvZ3BHiNgbPDBwEgjA_LBC48N6amxqpRvzgYL4jE69VsbeYwy5Aa0bULgHZ2JUPGiKS82vu8OxvghlvydaQ70Mh75P6v5FUyXgSw=s4320" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3240" data-original-width="4320" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgx3pDsr0csOI6f1_PJxptoGPar3Y124MMVyA4tie5cCTtLHWVi2VDNyEAlRTudcCeunzxmfHgOHSPt3i6iKdkDHBVvZ3BHiNgbPDBwEgjA_LBC48N6amxqpRvzgYL4jE69VsbeYwy5Aa0bULgHZ2JUPGiKS82vu8OxvghlvydaQ70Mh75P6v5FUyXgSw=s320" width="320" /></a></b></div><b><br /></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">The completion of the transcontinental railroad </span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">in 1869 linking east to west ushered in the golden age of railroads in the United States. Midwestern wheat easily shipped to east coast flour mills, Kansas feedlot cattle mooooved almost effortlessly to east coast markets, and folks could cross from east coast to west in days rather than months. The magic carpet made of steel sealed the early 19</span><sup style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">th</sup><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">century doctrine that American expansion across the continent was inevitable.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">And, until the 1950s, rail was most certainly king.</span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhCW9HZ47NF2haOTzm-qVtgROp7qNqPbLRfLctXArFjpv3Wz76PEwB81uSCxOLnY5tJaY34SeislpjKPbUCELsim2923hXCRMWKym5nlAFpPkuwb8U1uDi-8qOHSONDcaYLHZ_xB05k2uMfoqnbuIldMS4ql2BQl9aWuOdl-COxTrJkmpICR8F7LP0Zeg=s700" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="548" data-original-width="700" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhCW9HZ47NF2haOTzm-qVtgROp7qNqPbLRfLctXArFjpv3Wz76PEwB81uSCxOLnY5tJaY34SeislpjKPbUCELsim2923hXCRMWKym5nlAFpPkuwb8U1uDi-8qOHSONDcaYLHZ_xB05k2uMfoqnbuIldMS4ql2BQl9aWuOdl-COxTrJkmpICR8F7LP0Zeg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> In 1956, The Federal-Aid Highway Act authorized the construction of a 41,000-mile network of interstate highways that would span the nation, and rail transportation’s dominance began to fade. Some opine that the last most profitable year for the freight rail industry was when trains transported the cement that was used to build the interstates. That may or may not be true, but as trucking allowed more flexibility, rail lines became less feasible, and many were ultimately abandoned.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> The “Rails to Trails” movement sought to repurpose these rights-of-way. Given that out of necessity, rail lines rarely exceeded a grade of 2% ~ that is two feet of rise for every 100 feet in distance ~ rail grades could and do offer easy walkin’ and ridin’ for hikers and bicyclists. Many provide access to some of the most beautiful, rugged, and remote quarters of the west: The Bizz Johnson Trail on the old Pacific Fruit Express line skirts Fredonyer Pass in Lassen County; miles of the old Tonopah and Tidewater slip toward the edge of Death Valley at Rhyolite (my dad worked for the T&T); and the original route of the Central Pacific over Donner Pass invites hikers through tunnels chiseled and blasted back in the 1860s. (Even today, if you listen carefully, you can still hear the echoing ping of the picks striking the granite.)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">The Great Redwood Trail</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> is envisioned as repurposing the old Northwestern Pacific line from Cloverdale, through the Eel River canyon to Rohnerville and Eureka. The route will use existing bridges and tunnels ~ work around them where necessary ~ and split the third largest watershed in the entire state. Travelers will hike through the ancestral homelands of the Yuki people, cross ranchlands that date back to the mid 1800s, and ultimately follow the edge of a languid Eel River as it meanders along the coastal plain en route to the sea. Along the way, the adventuresome will observe flora and fauna in nearly pristine environs while stepping back some 200-plus years from the pressures of the 21<sup>st</sup> century into the pleasantries of… well… <i>not</i> the 21<sup>st</sup> century.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgoJUwdNXf4gSLvunuY9up1nhNO0T7X7yDuTaZUvsFmGhuFGE7ojRFnEqjCFxpCMpMrbJtaCMOxv4AtKi-sa-wLkrxTjqUS4yxvQHZQZudHRJcRAlKM1c_uL-fx7NZa7Ru5qLp4_7nt0XfnvTzsHuDkHCoEFbEUT1J2qBtmpoY20ROm_z1hXWatyJtLHg=s1024" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="293" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgoJUwdNXf4gSLvunuY9up1nhNO0T7X7yDuTaZUvsFmGhuFGE7ojRFnEqjCFxpCMpMrbJtaCMOxv4AtKi-sa-wLkrxTjqUS4yxvQHZQZudHRJcRAlKM1c_uL-fx7NZa7Ru5qLp4_7nt0XfnvTzsHuDkHCoEFbEUT1J2qBtmpoY20ROm_z1hXWatyJtLHg=w184-h640" width="184" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Access points may serve to revitalize dot-on-the-map communities including Outlet, Dos Rios, Bell Springs, Island Mountain, Alder Point, and Fort Seward. Each of these places holds a unique history associated not only with the railroad, but with the First Peoples who resided in the region for over 10,000 years as well as the ranchers and lumbermen that followed. Users may choose to day hike or bike out of each locale or engage in a point-to-point-to-point for all or part of the two-hundred-mile section north of Cloverdale. Camping and sanitation will be available as well as security for local landowners. (SMART is committed to construction of a bikeway along its tracks from Cloverdale south to the Bay.)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Though currently only in the planning stages, if all goes well, within the decade a vast and wonderful experience will be open to us and our children. Many communities are already on-board with the project. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnU3Bqaz52gflVV58VQm1EeghusupLCQEKPlyuqecX2db-1zBtgrkJhHatvx-ud1sZm4CkNeYdWai4ZtZjhXJNB4zifwzdya2bybiRNXa13Rz8X0OeGYPF9aMiCeupi_NQkCKL5X7S1heXVAFei3fqOTWR0e4q01Ne5da7GlHUaZpymP9zmLNztzGNbg=s1600" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnU3Bqaz52gflVV58VQm1EeghusupLCQEKPlyuqecX2db-1zBtgrkJhHatvx-ud1sZm4CkNeYdWai4ZtZjhXJNB4zifwzdya2bybiRNXa13Rz8X0OeGYPF9aMiCeupi_NQkCKL5X7S1heXVAFei3fqOTWR0e4q01Ne5da7GlHUaZpymP9zmLNztzGNbg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Besides</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">: What could possibly go wrong? Could the Great Redwood Trail possibly get… dare I say it?... derailed?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Next</span></b>: The Great Redwood Trail: Dreams and Challenges <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2022 <o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-2134387067506615632022-01-27T10:12:00.004-08:002022-01-27T10:12:45.689-08:00THE GREAT REDWOOD TRAIL: A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE NORTHWESTERN PACIFIC RAILROAD <p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; text-align: center;"> </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Part 1 (of 3): </span></i><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Rails to Trails in our Backyard</span></i></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">In Northwest California</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> lie Humboldt and Mendocino Counties. The region, with its steep terrain and large redwood forests, remained isolated from the rest of California until the completion of the Northwestern Pacific Railroad (NWP) in 1914. After being settled by immigrants in the 1850s, the coastal regions of both counties were easily accessed by sea, but an overland route was slow and difficult to traverse. Particularly vexing was the transport of redwood lumber ~ often referred to as “red gold” ~ from area mills to San Francisco markets. In the 1850s, doghole schooners were the main vehicle for shipment, but mill owners were only paid once their timber arrived in port. When a ship went down ~ as happened frequently ~ so went the profit.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh5rdGrNHxp2hmLn8Ql2Q4rAv4mgCkfkUX9fwJjLKhLh4XYgC5jrp4s3J_P17WusyXnPPBHPbd39eDXSECtIIkehkXSASl5JP_gpWheE3NI7S0zngD7GPMX85m8GiJ7iuNU7ljwASlEOGQJKd1VDqQiWn9-Hs4nvsksNzAGfkCwa8KZBKYg80-RElM_7w=s546" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="546" data-original-width="220" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh5rdGrNHxp2hmLn8Ql2Q4rAv4mgCkfkUX9fwJjLKhLh4XYgC5jrp4s3J_P17WusyXnPPBHPbd39eDXSECtIIkehkXSASl5JP_gpWheE3NI7S0zngD7GPMX85m8GiJ7iuNU7ljwASlEOGQJKd1VDqQiWn9-Hs4nvsksNzAGfkCwa8KZBKYg80-RElM_7w=w258-h640" width="258" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> In 1884, two Humboldt mill owners, John Vance and William Carson (…recall Eureka’s elegant and gingerbready Carson mansion? Same guy…) joined forces to begin a railroad that would connect Eureka with the outside world. A rail line was constructed to link Eureka with Fortuna and Rohnerville. Fifteen years later, the Pacific Lumber Company in Scotia began building lines south into the Eel River. Soon the area was webbed with tracks servicing mills and towns, but shortly after the turn of the century, none were yet connected to the economic hub of the San Francisco Bay Area. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Enter the owners of the Santa Fe and the Southern Pacific. In 1906, they joined into an agreement that would link the north country lines with those owned by the S.P. which already extended from the Bay to Willits. The trick would be to construct something through the rugged and remote Eel River Canyon.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhIXOiw09omGDu_cV4imShEwt3Xw5htxPoXWqEsvenF1RswO3S2Utct5QtUNgYdkmofMCwFKlhLBRYdW6exHFbP5shC-9rPKPGNeq7imJCvrZC8fp0M0xBPAsAW4dAEvK9YYhU3mCodbZwsAVo3_kEjTLqQu8S0Sn9EoGeOSHxHmMYpAw_nBcTvVPnz2w=s265" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="190" data-original-width="265" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhIXOiw09omGDu_cV4imShEwt3Xw5htxPoXWqEsvenF1RswO3S2Utct5QtUNgYdkmofMCwFKlhLBRYdW6exHFbP5shC-9rPKPGNeq7imJCvrZC8fp0M0xBPAsAW4dAEvK9YYhU3mCodbZwsAVo3_kEjTLqQu8S0Sn9EoGeOSHxHmMYpAw_nBcTvVPnz2w=w400-h287" width="400" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Over the next seven years, crews prepared grade, built bridges, bored tunnels and laid track along the river course finally driving a “golden spike” at Cain Rock in 1914. At a cost of $14 million dollars the rail line was finished.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">But the fun was just beginning</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">. California’s Coast Range is a complex mixture of geologic features. Mother Nature’s favorite toys, tectonics, volcanism, and the weather, play havoc with the plans of mere humans. Movement along faults and fissures like to nudge and sometimes shatter stuff we build in the coastal mountains. Huge plugs of basalt speak to her volcanic past. And, at cut banks we can see today, bent and tilted layers of unstable clay indicate that the NWP traverses an ancient, ever-uplifting ocean floor. (So does US 101.)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Heavy winter rains, working in concert with these elements caused bridges to wash out, tunnels to collapse and rails to give way under the weight of passing freights. Like dots on a timeline of misfortune, one washout or collapse was soon followed by another. Among the more notable? In a 1964 flood ~ one that some of us may remember ~ the entire rail route through the canyon was washed away. Remnants of fallen rail cars can still be found in the riverbed. Tenaciously, the tracks were rebuilt. Then in 1978, the tunnel at Island Mountain caught fire ~ arson is still suspected ~ and the redwood ties and tunnel support structure burned, collapsing the thing. That, too, was repaired.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> But the die was cast. While shipping lumber by rail was cheaper and more efficient than by schooner, it wasn’t much more reliable. Construction cost for the route proved to be a fraction of the cost of keeping things up and running. Plus, with the advent of the state and federal highway systems, diesel trucks proved more reliable and more flexible in getting product to market.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2n4cceqetnnTdlWb8sTybJMSMVWcN2aLDW1iFLeb10O1L46SyE_R1L8YoxoIqcxh6bqVF3IXHrEiuIi1P9ZfSrVrbAzx63uKxsiu1CiddEAmTCNXS8ssFCPU-BsfLHLIYU9JGIT2luzxECaA1JIdcCUD6qdnlwaRe1z5JGwCKQNlbIaJ2e-fwnksLuA=s1829" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1829" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2n4cceqetnnTdlWb8sTybJMSMVWcN2aLDW1iFLeb10O1L46SyE_R1L8YoxoIqcxh6bqVF3IXHrEiuIi1P9ZfSrVrbAzx63uKxsiu1CiddEAmTCNXS8ssFCPU-BsfLHLIYU9JGIT2luzxECaA1JIdcCUD6qdnlwaRe1z5JGwCKQNlbIaJ2e-fwnksLuA=w263-h400" width="263" /></a></div><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> 70 years battling the greater forces of Mother Nature proved to be enough ~ she <i>always </i>wins, doesn’t she? The last NWP train ran on the northern line in 1984. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">What might become</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> of an abandoned rail line through such a scenic ~ yet unstable ~ corridor?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Reference:</span></b> <u>Northwestern Pacific Railroad: Eureka to Willits.</u> Susan O’Hara and Alex Service. Arcadia Publishing. 2013. $22. (Locally available, this is a delightful book with tons of information and lots of old photos.)<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Next</span></b>: The Great Redwood Trail: Concept and Proposal<o:p></o:p></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2022 <o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-58988657724758983462021-12-28T16:29:00.003-08:002022-01-26T14:35:41.702-08:002021: THE CHURCH OF THE OPEN ROAD’S YEAR IN REVIEW<p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">In the beginning it was all black and white.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">~ Maureen O’Hara</span></i><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj98YGcoIU1WbR4MrANlfVtd50kXh7OsEjsb3pIBUzlcFZyCa-IGqinT6J0SoFzxb6Zqvt37Q0pYj7AgCM7h2xizxVvppv2-8Tav2qlJhCKW77qfAPhZDldPoEkmwvGHLNjz0kpKKKx7zdzy-Zu29N8_JXfJ0p4qbmuuGxW-RCYKVfjlHQkunYnljzShg=s1020" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="580" data-original-width="1020" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj98YGcoIU1WbR4MrANlfVtd50kXh7OsEjsb3pIBUzlcFZyCa-IGqinT6J0SoFzxb6Zqvt37Q0pYj7AgCM7h2xizxVvppv2-8Tav2qlJhCKW77qfAPhZDldPoEkmwvGHLNjz0kpKKKx7zdzy-Zu29N8_JXfJ0p4qbmuuGxW-RCYKVfjlHQkunYnljzShg=w400-h228" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Click on any picture to expand 'em all. (Some might be deemed worth the effort.)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Mid-winter ride on the beloved Enrico, the Yamaha, little knowing his days would be numbered.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh99HvnweuQFaXYc7_bqQJQoQ-MRowXgIa4fr3WeuA-ecRHV5Oe-OKnI2KZQGuRmraWtclnVRQINPDtM3wODnHss3Sj89IasN8g5ZBSayRxZOgqrxV2cU8i9zwfp2QWpef0OsTJ2JCAs6XteUBPBT60FsQoWltNc0lyJwwDugT637VYhBMZ15R47Lp-rQ=s5152" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3550" data-original-width="5152" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh99HvnweuQFaXYc7_bqQJQoQ-MRowXgIa4fr3WeuA-ecRHV5Oe-OKnI2KZQGuRmraWtclnVRQINPDtM3wODnHss3Sj89IasN8g5ZBSayRxZOgqrxV2cU8i9zwfp2QWpef0OsTJ2JCAs6XteUBPBT60FsQoWltNc0lyJwwDugT637VYhBMZ15R47Lp-rQ=w400-h275" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Nothing like an old barn and a good cloudscape…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhWLWKMiBo6cHGNuUb3XUA6vUqhs9CHSL0NSJkuvU4MBJHNMrlEgFlSPyitQqg27Ffi3bTlxMmEJug792uqWCCImftDgUhuU7D_w-VuTe1zO008rKHzQj_WnOBkuV5efcq7LI66FoPB99NQVMAfA9_jMxiF0ninszzh5bacJtf9DcVHXgJgRHZUkG_Y6Q=s3230" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2396" data-original-width="3230" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhWLWKMiBo6cHGNuUb3XUA6vUqhs9CHSL0NSJkuvU4MBJHNMrlEgFlSPyitQqg27Ffi3bTlxMmEJug792uqWCCImftDgUhuU7D_w-VuTe1zO008rKHzQj_WnOBkuV5efcq7LI66FoPB99NQVMAfA9_jMxiF0ninszzh5bacJtf9DcVHXgJgRHZUkG_Y6Q=w400-h296" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…even a cloudscape close to home, to capture some emotion.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0zBLjYbfRHOC_gGTcyFvQ3K-hJgqnvy349LI1cktlX-yxRUR_Rt5IQzoIdufd80k0--YOs6QSHiLyEAyH81HZfYj2uVzr8PLs64UONYjhdjryTx6v1bQEe9U97m-0kV8JLF8rvzFsOGRRbalOGmC4bF-yFN4P5ErfYR3vh-fW1azhdSpwbM5guZV-6w=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0zBLjYbfRHOC_gGTcyFvQ3K-hJgqnvy349LI1cktlX-yxRUR_Rt5IQzoIdufd80k0--YOs6QSHiLyEAyH81HZfYj2uVzr8PLs64UONYjhdjryTx6v1bQEe9U97m-0kV8JLF8rvzFsOGRRbalOGmC4bF-yFN4P5ErfYR3vh-fW1azhdSpwbM5guZV-6w=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Springtime and mustard cover crop in the vineyards of the Napa Valley.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiBPHHpCC409isgz-OEpF3Uc5HnfegWGjXYc9Gsk8FUBnIB1U7b7eaOBTpZWWdvO8trL-xbv6-fE5RzGe69ROK0SD9MVuov9pLNo5WWK_76Lg0o6gFn5kTrCerkQ0w2GGGy7qwcNg9OGJGgmNVAWjAtRjh-BfzGjduEePcORJr6J5RDrT0uwQ4SINJOsg=s3863" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2267" data-original-width="3863" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiBPHHpCC409isgz-OEpF3Uc5HnfegWGjXYc9Gsk8FUBnIB1U7b7eaOBTpZWWdvO8trL-xbv6-fE5RzGe69ROK0SD9MVuov9pLNo5WWK_76Lg0o6gFn5kTrCerkQ0w2GGGy7qwcNg9OGJGgmNVAWjAtRjh-BfzGjduEePcORJr6J5RDrT0uwQ4SINJOsg=w400-h235" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">This bell seemed a little Hitchcockian…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjtaPlStUB7SOn_XZH9lAATy8yo8iOE72dCdR7M_J4MWoin4XDtrf1N7BF-WajB48muKlw_4p2N1YSymKvsRpTI6B9DrZ4WgtJZfWEyghMNIX2WGizMIxBHWIzuFo16u3d0yRQWDbtPAZbSUClx1GTnQQ_akRlFJ-YtE5DCopcFiV6CvLS15URqXhlDEg=s3052" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3013" data-original-width="3052" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjtaPlStUB7SOn_XZH9lAATy8yo8iOE72dCdR7M_J4MWoin4XDtrf1N7BF-WajB48muKlw_4p2N1YSymKvsRpTI6B9DrZ4WgtJZfWEyghMNIX2WGizMIxBHWIzuFo16u3d0yRQWDbtPAZbSUClx1GTnQQ_akRlFJ-YtE5DCopcFiV6CvLS15URqXhlDEg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…as did this tilting silo. I don’t know why. Perhaps it's because this is near Bodega...<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikmmgd7DB1DxEI2kC7RK-zK4qhjHhmm70q-ciQb_lm5VfnvFdTBxXQ7GqvcFbDrEx9u751FeyzjGTu4kY0qHbR93JnrFU6xWYa_zBpogQ9zLeLUhn5imjjEjFDmp0DeRIYj_YeDasQmyGmzm1XP2hMBGycbDX-nBouVeMy-bCAn8IpuU-zSBx1XDlHmQ=s4592" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3448" data-original-width="4592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEikmmgd7DB1DxEI2kC7RK-zK4qhjHhmm70q-ciQb_lm5VfnvFdTBxXQ7GqvcFbDrEx9u751FeyzjGTu4kY0qHbR93JnrFU6xWYa_zBpogQ9zLeLUhn5imjjEjFDmp0DeRIYj_YeDasQmyGmzm1XP2hMBGycbDX-nBouVeMy-bCAn8IpuU-zSBx1XDlHmQ=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I read that prior to the advent of color TV, <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">most people dreamed in black and white.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">~ Damian Loeb<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Revisited some long-ago haunts…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjFC7pmJRTTqOikSoiCTK2_tjYOiFVP_0iz8Vx6AtK4U1rWlSq8rFRBQqhViL1Hto8YkV4cjiOWD_AwDA4p6fszQtYuWFVrBv-0Hau9HoAwiudazsf5x9djWYb8vwdVeMF_lEquz8ZLeHATzFAsSP-v8IcyJbgJl1DjKD0k4kPoLHuv8soRfehDjNZ_ag=s4592" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3448" data-original-width="4592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjFC7pmJRTTqOikSoiCTK2_tjYOiFVP_0iz8Vx6AtK4U1rWlSq8rFRBQqhViL1Hto8YkV4cjiOWD_AwDA4p6fszQtYuWFVrBv-0Hau9HoAwiudazsf5x9djWYb8vwdVeMF_lEquz8ZLeHATzFAsSP-v8IcyJbgJl1DjKD0k4kPoLHuv8soRfehDjNZ_ag=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">… and some places we’d like to haunt again.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgV_B6wOy3HqKXCd9d6rfdV0toQLMY3OcBLiiJmR7D2o7JmAlRsIzNNcppMWp1V3l43sGl1oZHqEoQFJICgjJ-2v-w4Yz_rf_dI6W7rZzRmBgQf_AbcjAo0m-j0ymCm23NvFL4Ms4Ye4NG9eIsbmWFOLiKEHCuTC1AApEFJDXlPA9KSfE9AVgnjjoZoGg=s3169" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2534" data-original-width="3169" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgV_B6wOy3HqKXCd9d6rfdV0toQLMY3OcBLiiJmR7D2o7JmAlRsIzNNcppMWp1V3l43sGl1oZHqEoQFJICgjJ-2v-w4Yz_rf_dI6W7rZzRmBgQf_AbcjAo0m-j0ymCm23NvFL4Ms4Ye4NG9eIsbmWFOLiKEHCuTC1AApEFJDXlPA9KSfE9AVgnjjoZoGg=w400-h320" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Perfunctory derelict tractor image.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEicjDwaA7GGlpLX-u_tMOZ3LnIW2yYon2yNmH2ONLYWVPecPDUerxBQ-TRtC_on67zZSOin1o3tvD0BSRAkq9vS5TCHyEIrmuR6riZyWwa6w_2pZcQoPUocCgIi-6Cj_5Kj8UrmBdrLZ803hgXqD6McOVDiwDyvMe0p5sYQXignRafSKfsYj5j1oCvbJw=s4592" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3448" data-original-width="4592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEicjDwaA7GGlpLX-u_tMOZ3LnIW2yYon2yNmH2ONLYWVPecPDUerxBQ-TRtC_on67zZSOin1o3tvD0BSRAkq9vS5TCHyEIrmuR6riZyWwa6w_2pZcQoPUocCgIi-6Cj_5Kj8UrmBdrLZ803hgXqD6McOVDiwDyvMe0p5sYQXignRafSKfsYj5j1oCvbJw=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Perfunctory wildflower image.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQKfb1aeueytFUAyBbmx56gMKGgOZ9Qv_CCvnKxnKplpO7luC9CvTaOeks-kXm99Sd2aXwymiwcnYNEf3lWVERJHeeYRpHqJy65K2fmctdgqyr7BQ4eQBrSiq6fXCbC2rwDKOH7N4Q1tfqlphpmMD5jM7OprYeExCyfTvjpt6HzQvZNYfhaw8ggvz_iA=s4592" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3448" data-original-width="4592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQKfb1aeueytFUAyBbmx56gMKGgOZ9Qv_CCvnKxnKplpO7luC9CvTaOeks-kXm99Sd2aXwymiwcnYNEf3lWVERJHeeYRpHqJy65K2fmctdgqyr7BQ4eQBrSiq6fXCbC2rwDKOH7N4Q1tfqlphpmMD5jM7OprYeExCyfTvjpt6HzQvZNYfhaw8ggvz_iA=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Perfunctory love note from Dad to Mom circa 1948.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjedpQ5FR-0epICuTLMMjSoLR8ofA0LpXmKVsrbnSfggh0Cn2wHmsnlSs-SLdn6n1RWnALG0v3kMp12MJ-fHLfPErano7PYZPaA3AD_Z0fwffQ2MNT3o5VglBdTNr6XNYyZH1owQUtKQTsfv6Fi5ELEt8NQ5bTu6Q7zmNmNQRfmwCmZHpqyk6_y9MDPoA=s3173" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3173" data-original-width="3020" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjedpQ5FR-0epICuTLMMjSoLR8ofA0LpXmKVsrbnSfggh0Cn2wHmsnlSs-SLdn6n1RWnALG0v3kMp12MJ-fHLfPErano7PYZPaA3AD_Z0fwffQ2MNT3o5VglBdTNr6XNYyZH1owQUtKQTsfv6Fi5ELEt8NQ5bTu6Q7zmNmNQRfmwCmZHpqyk6_y9MDPoA=s320" width="305" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Edward visits the trestle…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiiRDmMf-nid6Vx-6UE_IDE0swWDGeE2KdtWQSRLglSNVufuYqcn3y2wYRvOUfz4lk8_xEkZ-DnCcVkbIQN0Su2N2ZQEQbbEqstzKHgnDCmU0UJOrTfIQaoHL2OzbFKBJYLx-fqOEw7bvWZgkahYwTDpqpeGEEpV3gkaiJkkcVQMys8lP1o-61bUi3KXw=s2786" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2759" data-original-width="2786" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiiRDmMf-nid6Vx-6UE_IDE0swWDGeE2KdtWQSRLglSNVufuYqcn3y2wYRvOUfz4lk8_xEkZ-DnCcVkbIQN0Su2N2ZQEQbbEqstzKHgnDCmU0UJOrTfIQaoHL2OzbFKBJYLx-fqOEw7bvWZgkahYwTDpqpeGEEpV3gkaiJkkcVQMys8lP1o-61bUi3KXw=w400-h396" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…on one of our many coastal sojourns where we see…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgzC_DSSI7iYD64_nNdLwAlIVxSHUA0RvtJN22S6V2drBp5YZTE6HMtvAH_Bf-BqTqvCBUzzZLEJ20mgRWS0rLcPrLC_eni5tbv31K9KShU0oETTSBexT-KpFm7HXZ_KOQQ3aHLPQUZoFJICAUSo0EJkGCPkRkuywpFFe9XTuIvwyhIBMDJMVMv5R78lw=s3514" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1894" data-original-width="3514" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgzC_DSSI7iYD64_nNdLwAlIVxSHUA0RvtJN22S6V2drBp5YZTE6HMtvAH_Bf-BqTqvCBUzzZLEJ20mgRWS0rLcPrLC_eni5tbv31K9KShU0oETTSBexT-KpFm7HXZ_KOQQ3aHLPQUZoFJICAUSo0EJkGCPkRkuywpFFe9XTuIvwyhIBMDJMVMv5R78lw=w400-h215" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…breakers…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgcVa6uz-QIzFuiBn2uiMZl7wLcsu_dPcvZqvWq9Qiw2aucq8aRNHeWCbo7qkRlSmRvyTArge0wV45Hd91sKw6t5WMC93ELymos--JGEE3K1tC29SCGelz4EuWQaa5m2QpG7KitehO3Bf_KO_n90Tsq2HC2b3HIizmaMEweKtrgWBNbYr9d8iybqhlRnA=s4592" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3448" data-original-width="4592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgcVa6uz-QIzFuiBn2uiMZl7wLcsu_dPcvZqvWq9Qiw2aucq8aRNHeWCbo7qkRlSmRvyTArge0wV45Hd91sKw6t5WMC93ELymos--JGEE3K1tC29SCGelz4EuWQaa5m2QpG7KitehO3Bf_KO_n90Tsq2HC2b3HIizmaMEweKtrgWBNbYr9d8iybqhlRnA=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…beach bums…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjXGBXb4Bmi_KrgmUDbrApT92N11XS34tQrSTTFe7Eswh-Np6UhMe5JOVzkqPGMlvWfmadS6NrtPtP0VMlmbOj-C2lNjackA5py6tQjvtTy7yYGSi2JGX_4t6XtgW7YAVYDhfPjQNGdL5z-JBs00_cr1Z0wmFZgqrDHQutW37TlxGxUewneqdanLrIBpA=s4592" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3448" data-original-width="4592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjXGBXb4Bmi_KrgmUDbrApT92N11XS34tQrSTTFe7Eswh-Np6UhMe5JOVzkqPGMlvWfmadS6NrtPtP0VMlmbOj-C2lNjackA5py6tQjvtTy7yYGSi2JGX_4t6XtgW7YAVYDhfPjQNGdL5z-JBs00_cr1Z0wmFZgqrDHQutW37TlxGxUewneqdanLrIBpA=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…light houses…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQSGT3O9Cpr-JrzUgXFcq2jYNV0sOiCAOLd9ldm1U5brMTKW9bKqA8tif3dRYMlaI2mq1D4MeY1eFN8pDrSOQQehp1I4xcN9EIsEVCLT4XMP8cYD0efCnJRsKbcNjeDE8F5-lWHy2HcFmObptqbnUeP00MQpJ_uX21AqEbiGnOMF87pse3fSxfssEl3g=s4592" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4592" data-original-width="3448" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjQSGT3O9Cpr-JrzUgXFcq2jYNV0sOiCAOLd9ldm1U5brMTKW9bKqA8tif3dRYMlaI2mq1D4MeY1eFN8pDrSOQQehp1I4xcN9EIsEVCLT4XMP8cYD0efCnJRsKbcNjeDE8F5-lWHy2HcFmObptqbnUeP00MQpJ_uX21AqEbiGnOMF87pse3fSxfssEl3g=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…and smoke-choked sunsets.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwuMLxEgH23PIN1eVamjgx8nNIOTAlAfRotPrIfEnOrE1qBewiNOeKmQ4KEMRILXMXM3bV9D4nCjM7caQBs29OV20KBO0h2BJLhJ-9tYSks4DGbzslnW8RnV8I7ZMvlwyRiUdoGxR64HwqSbV2keTkTBan7D3O15ruIi_n2PjcyRG6xhGwKDtvRaIsww=s3729" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3729" data-original-width="2506" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwuMLxEgH23PIN1eVamjgx8nNIOTAlAfRotPrIfEnOrE1qBewiNOeKmQ4KEMRILXMXM3bV9D4nCjM7caQBs29OV20KBO0h2BJLhJ-9tYSks4DGbzslnW8RnV8I7ZMvlwyRiUdoGxR64HwqSbV2keTkTBan7D3O15ruIi_n2PjcyRG6xhGwKDtvRaIsww=w269-h400" width="269" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Enrico’s replacement is an Italian varietal I’ve named Mariolanza, the Moto Guzzi.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtOQubbT1a2qEkTnuCje5hnaR7h-pwanCmvgSb6_WP7HKfQXlx4y_c8L5XVGFWw81hEM8wXMue_7TOC00kqobs-Mvq7pvFLNrQQJD6QdlqZk-Qz0ZDL4psyaLpiKF_9XFgbuBJvInXzw4m0iLyni-hE4BWFjvOpmh_mCXSEeZkgh1lRw9rH-Fwqkiv8g=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtOQubbT1a2qEkTnuCje5hnaR7h-pwanCmvgSb6_WP7HKfQXlx4y_c8L5XVGFWw81hEM8wXMue_7TOC00kqobs-Mvq7pvFLNrQQJD6QdlqZk-Qz0ZDL4psyaLpiKF_9XFgbuBJvInXzw4m0iLyni-hE4BWFjvOpmh_mCXSEeZkgh1lRw9rH-Fwqkiv8g=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">A melancholy trip to Simpson Camp…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7sPEDgX84P_Q56mC99ZQuADX8zZzGGvzOPjPWRX-rq_A52OLxMAERX9EBtgML598U4lWH2XFZ8fWzTAlXOVIadkZt03a_mrvQxkaEF7p1v177GbhWXRsKx7zEQlz4DEoD4M5yxCQY9g37qPa9q_SO1K68dE5bLmQs5jK3jONSr5S9-ooP5Ie7F8C78w=s4591" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2750" data-original-width="4591" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh7sPEDgX84P_Q56mC99ZQuADX8zZzGGvzOPjPWRX-rq_A52OLxMAERX9EBtgML598U4lWH2XFZ8fWzTAlXOVIadkZt03a_mrvQxkaEF7p1v177GbhWXRsKx7zEQlz4DEoD4M5yxCQY9g37qPa9q_SO1K68dE5bLmQs5jK3jONSr5S9-ooP5Ie7F8C78w=w400-h240" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…scorched by the year-ago’s Mendocino Complex…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgNF_WrXokXKEiO8gLqFSDzcKVPw_c-rh_m-lG5hGJ2bj-ZZzm96AI1KoTJm6L96jM1zel4ezbEubPMYaGn3modfQ7-LZ0Gy4jnDmyMkqj8WtElnR8zpapQc_k_wWnpF_JXHDbIjwX23N3YmiDBeC3ib7wvPRYZwtXxHqvD8Y_0IFPNME7q4Q08qZG0UQ=s4592" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4592" data-original-width="3448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgNF_WrXokXKEiO8gLqFSDzcKVPw_c-rh_m-lG5hGJ2bj-ZZzm96AI1KoTJm6L96jM1zel4ezbEubPMYaGn3modfQ7-LZ0Gy4jnDmyMkqj8WtElnR8zpapQc_k_wWnpF_JXHDbIjwX23N3YmiDBeC3ib7wvPRYZwtXxHqvD8Y_0IFPNME7q4Q08qZG0UQ=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…leaving little but memories.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMH-MibsaMrS3Ci5zHwv9GHekiuKZ3cfdgT8aedrM5kFkMxOFllN0aJ5m0XHXj9Ugv2pgZwvKwB8H3d100ff9OTq8BMynwccQz6pho6apgC1zM1BObBbzW5uJAQvwGSIetJRb4SKHkcmctDIVDaGeMzVOkYmvF5iS2pRns39T3EuvSl0Ip5UVXcuY25A=s3509" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2717" data-original-width="3509" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgMH-MibsaMrS3Ci5zHwv9GHekiuKZ3cfdgT8aedrM5kFkMxOFllN0aJ5m0XHXj9Ugv2pgZwvKwB8H3d100ff9OTq8BMynwccQz6pho6apgC1zM1BObBbzW5uJAQvwGSIetJRb4SKHkcmctDIVDaGeMzVOkYmvF5iS2pRns39T3EuvSl0Ip5UVXcuY25A=w400-h310" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #212529; font-size: 14pt;">I wanted to be Amish when I was a kid. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #212529; font-size: 14pt;">You just wear black and white - what could be better? <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #212529; font-size: 14pt;">One less thing to worry about. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #212529; font-size: 14pt;">~ Anderson Cooper<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Autumn leaves…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhjB27M_1hx1sqbv5w-7LOPBU_OfPmIT1zOqI7rpM6YffSTJ7XA9punl8URHnNTL8C3pxxF82kOPRSrdng8b0Zaq9jE9awh3rqTdvxtGGRTu2zJqg5__zgBnAJpm_Io5iLL0dBYJOAQ1f8ONGhZDQw9DjZBRBIXbIM5j6r9dksQ-oCGrTUVyI5ZDPOJIg=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2835" data-original-width="4032" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhjB27M_1hx1sqbv5w-7LOPBU_OfPmIT1zOqI7rpM6YffSTJ7XA9punl8URHnNTL8C3pxxF82kOPRSrdng8b0Zaq9jE9awh3rqTdvxtGGRTu2zJqg5__zgBnAJpm_Io5iLL0dBYJOAQ1f8ONGhZDQw9DjZBRBIXbIM5j6r9dksQ-oCGrTUVyI5ZDPOJIg=w400-h281" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…a tune from Tony Bennett…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1wVr_0HVTB1gsBv4AcDaBtN5Gp-JE7kT--3tPxEdxXkr3CWA6wZHQUu5BSFKozvlkIgreUe0iPXpVPt0lJWd0MxjPw8HUblWLBmUpEs5bqums1qR1gK-iZCk7MtWCCmTEpEle5d0GhwTvDrcAql_h0JJytOVQQH735wlPzpKuQKBzSvzWn7VaROxn8w=s3576" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3576" data-original-width="2135" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1wVr_0HVTB1gsBv4AcDaBtN5Gp-JE7kT--3tPxEdxXkr3CWA6wZHQUu5BSFKozvlkIgreUe0iPXpVPt0lJWd0MxjPw8HUblWLBmUpEs5bqums1qR1gK-iZCk7MtWCCmTEpEle5d0GhwTvDrcAql_h0JJytOVQQH735wlPzpKuQKBzSvzWn7VaROxn8w=w239-h400" width="239" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…a watchful guardian…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg5RBqR_mDgUeDGiDdv103K7lsCl4P47qvcoiZtvLqKLj3-iXfNJKflDob8UfTRYLRhbPj2Rn23AccikXBXuIV1BjZuhO__HgwQZQB0Yt93-ouNwcYjcF1jWf8baDZR83I-4dtNQmXGiGY5FcR28FuBHGiz_MOmUTTQy4KHRExHorlmQvyVf54vCGDeQQ=s1717" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1717" data-original-width="1173" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg5RBqR_mDgUeDGiDdv103K7lsCl4P47qvcoiZtvLqKLj3-iXfNJKflDob8UfTRYLRhbPj2Rn23AccikXBXuIV1BjZuhO__HgwQZQB0Yt93-ouNwcYjcF1jWf8baDZR83I-4dtNQmXGiGY5FcR28FuBHGiz_MOmUTTQy4KHRExHorlmQvyVf54vCGDeQQ=w274-h400" width="274" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…a perfunctory old truck picture…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJijpv0rAhdfXK46t1tTKAXR5XJXU76v19Ycr8O8hpRMXquwcSgMnKqpubjEB6gfvFuDCqsIgw8zMjkT-ON-z4-DH3hg76QysESOVOt4x0rypS8xeCtCGKiaw4OrIX8iU3WJfvDILz6UzK4hPKI-1zrAGA9QDyYnt1xgsXY00-26I03eA8fhpUzEjEWQ=s3494" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3494" data-original-width="2368" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiJijpv0rAhdfXK46t1tTKAXR5XJXU76v19Ycr8O8hpRMXquwcSgMnKqpubjEB6gfvFuDCqsIgw8zMjkT-ON-z4-DH3hg76QysESOVOt4x0rypS8xeCtCGKiaw4OrIX8iU3WJfvDILz6UzK4hPKI-1zrAGA9QDyYnt1xgsXY00-26I03eA8fhpUzEjEWQ=s320" width="217" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…and snow dusts the nearby Mayacamas for Christmas.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgNJ6Gu9kM9g2GjomkMz28vO-9p8QrohxGM0hghR6JLzreT-ky8NR3Nfj1-GaC8eqKmjYc3lKSNiHg8CNV9lJwZue-84nibhSAaIm6l8j6CTZSIpZeIUjejIqZdnj8INCHJJIQML19SfTlZbTJxT0evE1U6U8xUhFlqadKvzy1VSi1GcII6SbIK3tplIw=s3918" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2393" data-original-width="3918" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgNJ6Gu9kM9g2GjomkMz28vO-9p8QrohxGM0hghR6JLzreT-ky8NR3Nfj1-GaC8eqKmjYc3lKSNiHg8CNV9lJwZue-84nibhSAaIm6l8j6CTZSIpZeIUjejIqZdnj8INCHJJIQML19SfTlZbTJxT0evE1U6U8xUhFlqadKvzy1VSi1GcII6SbIK3tplIw=w400-h244" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Shots of the year (as judged by me): Third runner up ~ steel bridge over Butte Creek.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4lEd0_kBl-_Hjz-cyXjGAwCQm9XsMCFzr0yTrllH81mhh7UneNkx29Rw71jLyBylUR21CVmfVtwO8ZklzIM0l89SMoBdkKN26eEDdG6peee9ijAFgWo7OKKPfH0PU8J1wG6wN2SjMBDkrcf-Wfglw3f84maEHBMh8lfkQIgfVLSL3_8BYGv6xs4LM-Q=s3444" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3023" data-original-width="3444" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4lEd0_kBl-_Hjz-cyXjGAwCQm9XsMCFzr0yTrllH81mhh7UneNkx29Rw71jLyBylUR21CVmfVtwO8ZklzIM0l89SMoBdkKN26eEDdG6peee9ijAFgWo7OKKPfH0PU8J1wG6wN2SjMBDkrcf-Wfglw3f84maEHBMh8lfkQIgfVLSL3_8BYGv6xs4LM-Q=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Second runner up: Damn! That’s a beautiful bike!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiD3NxqqfRbYmX_zzk3QhUSerIdfzCskC0dP1xVnqT5u801TdGaMq43ynrMF92VTdjqwGknnBBVVqaPG9klQ_eODqicXV0l677a6lPyDhYZKyxmvleVCow3mVk7GPC0mP6AA_E3JDqW2__zUxHbxfOMai1zaX0iGz-J-nQgtzPwsP3Zh4VlunnE-yLe1g=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiD3NxqqfRbYmX_zzk3QhUSerIdfzCskC0dP1xVnqT5u801TdGaMq43ynrMF92VTdjqwGknnBBVVqaPG9klQ_eODqicXV0l677a6lPyDhYZKyxmvleVCow3mVk7GPC0mP6AA_E3JDqW2__zUxHbxfOMai1zaX0iGz-J-nQgtzPwsP3Zh4VlunnE-yLe1g=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">First runner up: Reflections in a walking path puddle.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEglbZbsoRZGOCuYL1qaeOM51GJP3iQXKLrjW62XiA4zotbn0TkTGTIsGHmmHN9IZXZ00cWGRFruEPmuqkx3Ax3kDwO85UtPtbQKg51pzDz9EBTkslEXhLHkU_fxvlY8ybFHzv3EySWJbhXeju-HfAtPjj2F8MxhfB6XfnNu_akiqE2Vn-nP4M7V4lMtrg=s1653" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1653" data-original-width="786" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEglbZbsoRZGOCuYL1qaeOM51GJP3iQXKLrjW62XiA4zotbn0TkTGTIsGHmmHN9IZXZ00cWGRFruEPmuqkx3Ax3kDwO85UtPtbQKg51pzDz9EBTkslEXhLHkU_fxvlY8ybFHzv3EySWJbhXeju-HfAtPjj2F8MxhfB6XfnNu_akiqE2Vn-nP4M7V4lMtrg=w190-h400" width="190" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Shot of the Year: Live steam!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi5OB8GX65ULfuWzG_JpW2euYO8n6JdZZxrpiSj-IquuGSdxPwZYo-AFD2xP56sxzgrZvn0skKdCwZNU8vvZ-DfTT4FqwG-CmPP_ZdN5T2PXq01s1vr1mI0hw6PV0MfwXhyeBf99txVHAXoTzK6bVaLu2C6GemLLng1IoDsv82EaYlcPa3ChZb097tYSA=s3269" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2273" data-original-width="3269" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi5OB8GX65ULfuWzG_JpW2euYO8n6JdZZxrpiSj-IquuGSdxPwZYo-AFD2xP56sxzgrZvn0skKdCwZNU8vvZ-DfTT4FqwG-CmPP_ZdN5T2PXq01s1vr1mI0hw6PV0MfwXhyeBf99txVHAXoTzK6bVaLu2C6GemLLng1IoDsv82EaYlcPa3ChZb097tYSA=w400-h279" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #212529; font-size: 14pt;">If everything isn’t black and white, I say, “Why the hell not?”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #212529; font-size: 14pt;">~ John Wayne</span></i><i><span style="color: #212529; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #212529; font-size: 10pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="color: #212529; font-size: 10pt;">© 2021<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="color: #212529; font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press</span><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-83062137776006839032021-12-20T11:56:00.001-08:002023-12-20T17:33:09.061-08:00THE CHURCH OF THE OPEN ROAD’S WINTER SOLSTICE WISH<p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">1942<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Consider this</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> early encounter at Rick’s <i>Café Americain</i>…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Ilsa </span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I wasn’t sure you were the same. Let’s see, the last time we met…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Rick</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> It was “La Belle Aurore.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Ilsa</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> How nice. You remembered. But of course, that was the day the Germans marched into town.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Rick</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Not an easy day to forget.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Ilsa</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> No.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiST9iOHXvcJDdRc9h2n6ojcYQBCP1dvtRpGyAHhVrJH5-sSwLGZf9sdXdwuZIFmv7g-bC1BrP8vCKaGCkDu6YN2Vlt7Dh6PTXviG3RHv7_4qYv7hPG0eMbQVAyutaO4b_yR8l2L73G9i3-3xqwa5q_ap9rEiw4yb2EEQdUKdKNS3aHsvsiyBR1pDdUgw=s1320" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="746" data-original-width="1320" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiST9iOHXvcJDdRc9h2n6ojcYQBCP1dvtRpGyAHhVrJH5-sSwLGZf9sdXdwuZIFmv7g-bC1BrP8vCKaGCkDu6YN2Vlt7Dh6PTXviG3RHv7_4qYv7hPG0eMbQVAyutaO4b_yR8l2L73G9i3-3xqwa5q_ap9rEiw4yb2EEQdUKdKNS3aHsvsiyBR1pDdUgw=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Rick</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I remember every detail. The Germans wore gray, you wore blue.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Ilsa</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Yes. I put that dress away. When the Germans march out, I’ll wear it. again.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">2021<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">A long-held view</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> of the Church of the Open Road is simply this: Many things in life can be related to one scene or another from the film <i>Casablanca</i>. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">In keeping with this belief, the “church” not offering a misty-eyed holiday tale or recapitulation of the family year in review. Rather, this year, we submit simply the hope that in our country, one day soon, the seeds of representative democracy will again be nourished to grow and bear their luscious fruit; that our great experiment in self-governance will revive itself and again flourish; and that Ilsa Lund will feel compelled, once again, to wear that blue dress. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Only together</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> can we ensure that this will indeed happen <i>as time goes by</i>…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2021<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-47385400716713956562021-10-25T13:49:00.005-07:002021-10-27T17:42:25.405-07:00MR. BUTTONS<p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">The rule is this</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">: Never name a stray because once you give a stray a name, it’s no longer a stray. It is yours.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">It had been three days</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> of rain, and, on this Sunday, a phenomenon known as an atmospheric river had aimed itself directly over Cloverdale. Still, amid 72-hours in the house, we had to get Edward, the lab-mix – himself, years ago, a nameless stray puppy – out for a walk through our drenched neighborhood. We’d make a short loop down the street, across a bridge and then up a paved path tracing the bank of a swollen creek. Travelling that path, I’m not sure who noticed it first, Candi, or Edward. But huddled next to a post on the split-rail fence lay a small cat – not a kitten – but not very big. Cats, worldly ones, at least, flee whenever Edward crosses the horizon not knowing he’s on leash. This cute little guy, white with tan and gray splotches, just lay under the fence, eyes following Edward’s moves.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Something wasn’t right.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Candi held Edward close while I approached. At about six feet distant, the cat had had enough. He leapt to his feet, and, after only two strides, fell on his side. As I gingerly moved forward, he didn’t attempt to run. He couldn’t. Rather he hissed, bared his pin-like teeth and uttered guttural feline profanities at me. I chose not to touch.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> A decision had to be made and Candi made it. “Take Edward home, get a towel and a box and come back in the car. I’ll stay here with the umbrella.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Upon my return Candi stood with the umbrella, but nowhere near the cat. He’d probably exchanged words with her. Unfolding the towel, I danced it in front of him, eliciting more kitty-cussing, then moved the terrycloth behind the split-rail where I felt I could safely sneak up on and enfold the feline without losing skin or blood. Success. Hissing and spitting and uttering his disdain, wrapped in the towel with pupils as big as ripe, black olives, he reposed in the box at Candi’s feet, teeth angrily clinching the towel, as we brought him home.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirjbcwaHtA_lopjWeJMHf4g1malZnoNz-GIn8I_LDt9DCb4_ReV9fuPA62rAnZk_j7wJ71AP2GG8uEglX4rWL5KWugA8vFZlUugHcfhaB64BFpchcGBDyMqvSHsyL5ixpAHVLpmhgr5_Ac/s2048/IMG_1214.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2026" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirjbcwaHtA_lopjWeJMHf4g1malZnoNz-GIn8I_LDt9DCb4_ReV9fuPA62rAnZk_j7wJ71AP2GG8uEglX4rWL5KWugA8vFZlUugHcfhaB64BFpchcGBDyMqvSHsyL5ixpAHVLpmhgr5_Ac/s320/IMG_1214.jpeg" width="317" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Now we had a cat</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">, and we didn’t need a cat. We posted his picture on local social media and searched for a vet or an animal rescue. Animal rescue turned out to be animal control. Given the rainfall, officers from this outfit were flush with rescues and orphans and injuries. “It may be a couple of hours,” we were told. We placed him in his box in the tiled shower stall and loosened the damp towel that encased him, figuring that if he warms up and calms down, he may want to wiggle out of the towel. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Social media response was almost instantaneous. Respondent after respondent said, “Aren’t you wonderful…” or “I hope you find his Mom and Dad.” One neighbor from a few blocks over knocked on the door having lost her kitty earlier in the morning. This guy wasn’t hers.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Cat cloistered<b><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;"> </span></b>in the bathroom, Candi and I kept watch. He never released his toothy grip on the towel and though his pupils diminished his eyes seemed pinned open. <i>Was he dead?</i> I blew gently across his face and his eyelids closed and reopened. My fingers found the back of his head and rubbed his damp coat. Tiptoeing them down to his shoulder I found the little guy had nothing between his skin and his skeleton. His eyes looked at mine and he wasn’t cursing me anymore, so this, I thought, was progress. I loosened the towel a bit more and fetched a tiny saucer of half-n-half, touching a droplet of it to his nose.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Twenty minutes later, I came back to check. He’d pushed himself a few inches further out of the box, but his mouth still clamped the terrycloth. Rubbing down his spindly back a bit further, it was clear he didn’t like it, so I put another drop of milk on his nose and left.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> The little cat had been injured. Perhaps he’d been hit by a car or fell out of a tree during a wind gust. No signs of open wounds, but unable to ambulate, he was soaked and angry as… well… a wet cat. Plus, it was clear he was both starving and not in the mood to eat – at least not what we were offering.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Every fifteen to twenty minutes, one of us would peek into the bathroom to check on his welfare and offer the warm touch of another mammal. On one visit, as I cracked open the door, I blurted out, “Hey there, Mr. Buttons.” I don’t know what prompted me or where it came from. But I was aware of the consequence. That visit ended with the ringing of the doorbell.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">The animal control officer</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> was a big kind man dressed in a green uniform and girdled with a heavy service belt. He said he smelled “like about eleven different dogs,” as Edward sniffed his pantlegs. We led the officer through the house to the bathroom. Entering, I said, “Hey there, Mr. Buttons. Help is here.” I caught Candi’s quizzical, sideways glance. <i>Didn’t I know the rule?</i><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> The big man bent down and lifted the little cat swaddled in the damp towel. Mr. Buttons lay entirely limp. “I think he may have passed,” the officer said, but then the cat responded somehow to something. Now, with even more care, he cradled the kitty, checked for an ID chip – there would be none – and placed him in a carrier. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “What do you think?” we asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “My job is just to take ‘em to the vet and they’ll decide.” I watched from the window as he loaded Mr. Buttons into a compartment and sat in his truck, getting directions to his next rescue. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">No words were expressed</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">. None were needed. Injury, shock, hunger and wet were more than the totality of his nine lives could handle. For closure, I reported this on neighborhood social media, eliciting from someone: “You did your best. You know there are plenty of cats at the shelter.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> My curt reply: “We don’t need a cat.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I thought about this through the rainy mid-afternoon and into the evening ultimately realizing that while my comment may have been true, perhaps, in this case, Mr. Buttons simply needed us. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> If only for his final hours.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2021<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-531087533204463262021-09-27T16:56:00.004-07:002021-09-28T09:19:39.342-07:00FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF MY GUZZI V7 SPECIAL<p> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Downsizing and Upgrading – all at the same time<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4sBGA2D6z6DJl_gFn94tP-vMeFPWeAaB2N52WJyy6Hy-cF7cYKHQuqjP9BKUQ-1PPp_7L0YkNysq6Q6GqSRsFchQ4SV-4xjUGNv29EF7YKdWmQfBRD1QBFTyi05HtNmQYqg_-gNZiShw-/s2048/1.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4sBGA2D6z6DJl_gFn94tP-vMeFPWeAaB2N52WJyy6Hy-cF7cYKHQuqjP9BKUQ-1PPp_7L0YkNysq6Q6GqSRsFchQ4SV-4xjUGNv29EF7YKdWmQfBRD1QBFTyi05HtNmQYqg_-gNZiShw-/w400-h300/1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">As a kid</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">, I was enamored with sports cars: Triumphs, Alfas, MGs. Particularly MGs: First the TD, then the A, then the B. I could never afford any of ‘em, but a Midget bearing a price tag of 1200 bucks once was sitting on a used car lot, and I snaked my lanky 6’4” body into it. It nearly took the Jaws of Life to pry me out. The same could be said of motorcycles. With a 34” inseam, there have been many two-wheelers that were physically too small for me. Not that I didn’t own a few: my Honda Trail 90s, a CL360, and my first BMW, an R65. Mostly, I’ve found myself on tall or long scoots: comfortable because of their spaciousness, but in some cases, a bit ponderous to maneuver. Each was sold or traded to make room for the new best thing. The latest victim of such a transition would be my Yamaha Super Tenere, a machine that could do absolutely everything I wanted and one that will surely be added to the lengthening list of “ones I let get away.”<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja2A_8wXSsF_N8efm3PJ9x-LHt1ey7KS40lZ63TyqbZ4uDE7G6sdrX63Us9M-N1d4TSw3Zj4ZtMXG9DLEnaBUPY31ECOeITC4yU6PFIsIJBfnzfOvhXZtYtGMXyJepfxrXmJQ1XBa4POBs/s2048/2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1371" data-original-width="2048" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja2A_8wXSsF_N8efm3PJ9x-LHt1ey7KS40lZ63TyqbZ4uDE7G6sdrX63Us9M-N1d4TSw3Zj4ZtMXG9DLEnaBUPY31ECOeITC4yU6PFIsIJBfnzfOvhXZtYtGMXyJepfxrXmJQ1XBa4POBs/w400-h268/2.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Since owning my first Moto Guzzi – and ’07 Breva – I’ve simply been smitten by the marque. The mojo. The character of the V-twin. The Italian flair. The company history that tells us every Guzzi ever built over the past 100 years has come out of the same factory on the shores of Lake Como. So along comes the 2021 model year V7 Special with a bit more juice and a Centenario applique, and I’m hooked. Fearful that the small architecture would remind me of squeezing into that ’67 Midget, a generous test ride abated those concerns. Now I’ve had the Special for a month. And the thing has proven delightful.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBUthIGOVwQmB4vqy4CROZDFCVc8xuD-a_U1TCNWigXYZEToakWlOnWQ5lXhGQiSD8SRl3liD9-4J_fZy99oCFeL_I82coMsBfrdX_yCB9vSUNuDVdxo4P4JbLnhZyX2RWSVvoyisDuUUX/s2048/3.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBUthIGOVwQmB4vqy4CROZDFCVc8xuD-a_U1TCNWigXYZEToakWlOnWQ5lXhGQiSD8SRl3liD9-4J_fZy99oCFeL_I82coMsBfrdX_yCB9vSUNuDVdxo4P4JbLnhZyX2RWSVvoyisDuUUX/w400-h300/3.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">As I aged</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> – note I didn’t say ‘matured’ – I’ve found myself less oriented toward multi-day adventures and more eager for an hour or two exploring local roads. I’ve also found that wielding a 700-pound motorcycle out of the garage or around a parking lot had become less inviting than hopping in the Subaru for an errand to the store. <i>Damn! I don’t like getting old!</i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKqBfz5O5eMBj-QYJ34QLdnzMi6UuTgDpFDMHOEHpKdjHJAR9qWG2gyYS-XI2crTOZCbI4MKlptXe1MN91d2NADu-3RkFwKtsYDL0FshcxDGIEClZ1p-pV_LS-GE1jExqH_NZsZ7hpgomq/s2048/4.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKqBfz5O5eMBj-QYJ34QLdnzMi6UuTgDpFDMHOEHpKdjHJAR9qWG2gyYS-XI2crTOZCbI4MKlptXe1MN91d2NADu-3RkFwKtsYDL0FshcxDGIEClZ1p-pV_LS-GE1jExqH_NZsZ7hpgomq/w400-h300/4.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">But the V7 weighs in at 492 and the principal question has evolved from “Do I want to ride this today?” to “<i>Can</i> I <i>please</i> ride this today?” And I find myself wanting to get on the thing every day. Thus far, the only drawback has been that a 20-minute ride to clear my head ends up lasting an hour-and-a-half. I'd get lost somewhere...<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJQ7Rpj9EHhvGC2fU3_vPDLEWMMe0PgFfneYK2cswtoHcTfVRuUAFW0V-128ha4tUw0q2L7szeDRbJrccBujaFu9-MBPJyc4mIoSe5_sRE37mREo_IQnvzslQuojYNLt25ISSYsI0rK53v/s2048/11.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1361" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJQ7Rpj9EHhvGC2fU3_vPDLEWMMe0PgFfneYK2cswtoHcTfVRuUAFW0V-128ha4tUw0q2L7szeDRbJrccBujaFu9-MBPJyc4mIoSe5_sRE37mREo_IQnvzslQuojYNLt25ISSYsI0rK53v/w266-h400/11.jpeg" width="266" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">A couple of minor deficits</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">: Sonoma County, California may be one of the wealthier counties in the state. (Don’t ask me how we ended up here.) Our area boasts rolling vineyards, towering redwoods, ocean bluffs and winding roads that connect all of ‘em. It is a paradise for those who enjoy motoring on two wheels. A minor annoyance might be that the condition of our roads is sometimes wanting. Better pavement exists in nearby Marin, Mendocino, and Napa. (But we make better wine.) That said, while the Yamaha and the BMWs I’ve owned have done an admirable job of soaking up the worst of the bumps, the V7 Special prompts me to be a bit more cognizant of those road warts. It’s a small adjustment.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha-KtJiJM1PEsWEYsSnjK8mDKlgsfGjvq0IaKVE4CrfpgmQgtVtDhbP3RF67mvNGtQRDC2u9Tzbkr9Y_0bh2H-8yzvucTXwewwe4I87t3Ga2J_9QFLcIQcJkqAmk2l34h10Bl5wGLAaUaS/s2048/6.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha-KtJiJM1PEsWEYsSnjK8mDKlgsfGjvq0IaKVE4CrfpgmQgtVtDhbP3RF67mvNGtQRDC2u9Tzbkr9Y_0bh2H-8yzvucTXwewwe4I87t3Ga2J_9QFLcIQcJkqAmk2l34h10Bl5wGLAaUaS/w300-h400/6.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Similarly, and I knew this when I paid the admission ticket, the cockpit of the V7 is a bit tight for a guy of my size. Neighbors say I dwarf the thing. But the seat is spacious and comfy. A recent loop out to the coast could have been truncated at many points along the route, but I easily kept going, covering 170 lovely miles, never feeling uncomfortable in the luxurious brown leather saddle. I did find myself dismounting rather frequently, but these breaks were brought about by the coastal scenery, not any form of monkey-butt. And when the final leg took 75 minutes, they were 75 minutes of bliss. I de-saddled thinking that by strapping a duffel bag on the back, an over-nighter might still be in the cards.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMbh-wUHEyLOJU4VhfQ_07x59b_4FVFSryO6zGa78gTMf8Br-RVyE_irihShZdD8NyyDavHdPKrqnVPtml8kL_FswQbv2mHzidMzzeIiSgfl6N8O1g1YG0QyoqU_mVll6bxDlmTbiTn6zV/s2048/7.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1546" data-original-width="2048" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMbh-wUHEyLOJU4VhfQ_07x59b_4FVFSryO6zGa78gTMf8Br-RVyE_irihShZdD8NyyDavHdPKrqnVPtml8kL_FswQbv2mHzidMzzeIiSgfl6N8O1g1YG0QyoqU_mVll6bxDlmTbiTn6zV/w400-h303/7.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Among the strengths</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">: This thing is light (to me) and handles like a feather gently dancing on the wind. A twist of the throttle powers over hills and the whole package – frame, saddle, suspension – seems eager to dive onto the next set of curves. The tires nicely grip the tarmac no matter the tarmac condition and I’ve yet to overtax the brakes. (I make it a practice to <i>never</i> overtax the brakes.) All of my previous mounts have had a degree of wind protection. This bike is naked. It took perhaps fifteen minutes on the rural road between the showroom and home for me to appreciate the non-wind-protectedness of things. Brought to mind pleasant memories of the Honda CL 360 upon which I commuted through the foothills from Paradise CA to Durham to my first teaching gig. Simple and refreshing.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsLiU2tdm_wXAHa_EpcA4b1ZPoICFXGpmmNVuwo8vuiz2bGcyktJiPkwn2-QSo6Y6ByRtsWjVo6AUFjqRzphSzmmmqGq_CuLPdrz5qTfdP5ByxesPFOgBvomUdRbz1VfjTshaxWQoHQhM0/s2048/8.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsLiU2tdm_wXAHa_EpcA4b1ZPoICFXGpmmNVuwo8vuiz2bGcyktJiPkwn2-QSo6Y6ByRtsWjVo6AUFjqRzphSzmmmqGq_CuLPdrz5qTfdP5ByxesPFOgBvomUdRbz1VfjTshaxWQoHQhM0/w300-h400/8.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Also, a factor an old guy such as myself appreciates is the simplicity of the few electronic gizmos. Upon delivery, my Guzzi’s Owner’s Manual somehow got left at the shop. Scrolling through the mode functions, I was easily able to set the clock and reset the trip meter. With manual in hand, it proved simple to access and adjust the traction control which may be superfluous on a mild-mannered ride such as this one.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP7Yhzp0WUkApV2eJPua1ioOO0zxZyBB6az-OCl7AzyiI4e8O_CFqq-thXlNNPet0m7nodD2R5kRMMV7gA2eM_RhErlXWIQwfwiOuCuTxFTsXGqkU5F9kphwGRCRaHYFWjr_1NrZtk6dUV/s2048/9.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP7Yhzp0WUkApV2eJPua1ioOO0zxZyBB6az-OCl7AzyiI4e8O_CFqq-thXlNNPet0m7nodD2R5kRMMV7gA2eM_RhErlXWIQwfwiOuCuTxFTsXGqkU5F9kphwGRCRaHYFWjr_1NrZtk6dUV/w400-h300/9.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">In blue, the thing is a visual stunner. (It’s visually stunning in gray, also.) On each of the three longer rides, I’ve been hailed by someone in the parking lot and regaled with either admiration or a story. Aurally, it also sings. The tenor exhaust note is unobtrusive in the neighborhood, but more than once, someone walking by has asked me to fire it up so they can hear it. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSdOhy0qbfBH-c-6c7-jjtrwN8sWs1I3eKUtTeo5_G6PSNad7IepfMqOI-PsJnarUGbyYape0cx8l6qkrhSLtwQOfxhbthHg2t38xxBrcdMLaRbGkh05DIo-Vp1zdAPaFZwm8oogkrNakm/s2048/10.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSdOhy0qbfBH-c-6c7-jjtrwN8sWs1I3eKUtTeo5_G6PSNad7IepfMqOI-PsJnarUGbyYape0cx8l6qkrhSLtwQOfxhbthHg2t38xxBrcdMLaRbGkh05DIo-Vp1zdAPaFZwm8oogkrNakm/w300-h400/10.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrXrKzWn3enGOFQArOR7l-PMVak28XBWCNYgl0tTFooRYjFGfh2aI7G1AIZ4zoo3DxwiJtjEnxzPXTtJRKf50s9k_WUsyBx4E19NoKvXp4jtEjy2D9l74nIk1M43hSECMmC5pt-Vq2u6QE/s2048/5.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrXrKzWn3enGOFQArOR7l-PMVak28XBWCNYgl0tTFooRYjFGfh2aI7G1AIZ4zoo3DxwiJtjEnxzPXTtJRKf50s9k_WUsyBx4E19NoKvXp4jtEjy2D9l74nIk1M43hSECMmC5pt-Vq2u6QE/w150-h200/5.jpeg" width="150" /></a></div><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Looking at 70,</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I’m not sure what my last motorcycle will be. Up until a couple of months ago, I thought it would be the Yamaha. For now, a future on the V7 Special seems just about perfect. And if it turns out to be the last bike I own, I’m thinking I can say I rode to that far horizon on something strikingly pretty, something loaded with character and history and mojo. Sort of like that MG-TD, A or B (or Alfa Spyder) that never made it into my fold.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2021<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-33523295239602741972021-09-03T16:10:00.001-07:002021-09-04T08:36:50.799-07:00 Well, It’s Happened Again<p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I return to the fold<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">About every four or five years</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I get the itch. I’m astride a perfectly good motorcycle – in this case, a flawless Yamaha Super Tenere (which I’d named Enrico) – when someone pushes out the next <i>gotta-</i>have – in this case, Moto Guzzi’s revised 2021 V-7. Classic lines. Throw-back style. A bit more power than last year. Italian mojo. (Enrico has a whole lot going for him, but mojo isn’t very high on the list.) Driving by our semi-local Guzzi dealer – making sure <i>not</i> to have gear with me so I can’t test ride, because I know what <i>always</i> happens when I test ride something – a beautiful gray V-7 Special sits gleaming in the western sun. “If only it was blue,” I think.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Six weeks later, I swing by again, hoping beyond hope that there won’t be a blue one there, but alas…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWXTGgi2lA2H1pRjYdh_eR8rK-nrP5qfUmg702V8RjhIa3RRmeNgWYiO5rgOov8QpHj0gSEre7X-vqYiJV0IzSYVfzR9SGIqAoYD11hSc-QRzeZYlBDWN2Q6QbGwQnuugm57SB4r0Bn0Gg/s2048/1.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWXTGgi2lA2H1pRjYdh_eR8rK-nrP5qfUmg702V8RjhIa3RRmeNgWYiO5rgOov8QpHj0gSEre7X-vqYiJV0IzSYVfzR9SGIqAoYD11hSc-QRzeZYlBDWN2Q6QbGwQnuugm57SB4r0Bn0Gg/w400-h300/1.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…now one sits in my garage. (Regarding Enrico, the shop in Windsor made me an offer I could not refuse.)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6PZd_JzcS0xBI5zbw0yD50RqM-mNxeKmLpqOfvGJiQBjS5-gD40cqx17wVxtyYtSvAEpVX6z16Eb1X8-l9osiVxG4Z7vcD65jYX6n50ClJdD9GCKPk_Qlyt6P-f344oERb9UwcGqTKcJV/s2048/2.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6PZd_JzcS0xBI5zbw0yD50RqM-mNxeKmLpqOfvGJiQBjS5-gD40cqx17wVxtyYtSvAEpVX6z16Eb1X8-l9osiVxG4Z7vcD65jYX6n50ClJdD9GCKPk_Qlyt6P-f344oERb9UwcGqTKcJV/w300-h400/2.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">I’d purchased a lightly used</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> 2007 B1100 Breva several years back, rode it for well over 10,000 miles and from the day I traded it in, regretted not having a Guzzi in the garage.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxB9RWQugjZ6hxneATDCMn9o8Y4WKw_NvvS0GJ2dSw_G2tDcyz7pVUuK5iAaZtZh9GV2y4ialFe9p-QW88keBT_KnAaNRomsfbHHYgcgTBnnr2MIRhzekRMqmKQFkX3uPGZ-sJ9AbcQfWo/s2048/3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxB9RWQugjZ6hxneATDCMn9o8Y4WKw_NvvS0GJ2dSw_G2tDcyz7pVUuK5iAaZtZh9GV2y4ialFe9p-QW88keBT_KnAaNRomsfbHHYgcgTBnnr2MIRhzekRMqmKQFkX3uPGZ-sJ9AbcQfWo/w400-h300/3.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">My taste in motorcycles</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> has ebbed and flowed over the past 50 years. A BMW RT was a great mile-muncher and my KLR introduced me to a family of black bears crossing a fire road. The GSA was a wonderful all-purpose machine that carried me 600+ miles a day on several occasions. And Enrico ran like a clock. But the Breva had a degree of character none of the others seemed to offer. And as I found myself less comfortable throwing my leg over the high seat of the Yamaha and more at home in the passenger seat of the Subaru for touring with my wife, something a bit smaller seemed in order. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The test ride of the V-7 transported me back to my first real bike – an ’82 BMW R65 – simple, light, agile, and straight forward without a lot of things that you could adjust but that I never adjusted. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Today, three days into ownership</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">, I decided to shake things out on a familiar route.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The first photo-op came in the Dry Creek Valley where harvest was just beginning.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV3RFkjY4Tj84EkdfwNls58EeBvHvK6uyoZzqQqNiKdOhjPMJgo4i9CodjnIw-9Qc-1yNKP9NqSTC0mnedn4YTU48PVNPC2Vx32OjH3u6dzeugPgPvr7noTiM5G-bujxitnysSjNtfIPdL/s2048/4.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV3RFkjY4Tj84EkdfwNls58EeBvHvK6uyoZzqQqNiKdOhjPMJgo4i9CodjnIw-9Qc-1yNKP9NqSTC0mnedn4YTU48PVNPC2Vx32OjH3u6dzeugPgPvr7noTiM5G-bujxitnysSjNtfIPdL/w400-h300/4.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Next, I paused at a picturesque red barn that has been the backdrop for first photos of former bikes.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2BQZf4Xz4Rhp6PbKJwFQLzSw-lkrKwlhT0yIUaLtuL86Bjj3AJgPuSv6nv1uOfWYEo6y6auKedwTGCtP_n56m-UCgWWnOD4D4x88cstgbFnJ83I0nPZEkj83ME5r6_3FILVxrZbo7wXPT/s2048/5.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2BQZf4Xz4Rhp6PbKJwFQLzSw-lkrKwlhT0yIUaLtuL86Bjj3AJgPuSv6nv1uOfWYEo6y6auKedwTGCtP_n56m-UCgWWnOD4D4x88cstgbFnJ83I0nPZEkj83ME5r6_3FILVxrZbo7wXPT/w400-h300/5.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">In my twisted world</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">, a new motorbike isn’t truly christened until it has carried me on sweeping curves through the redwoods along the Russian River to the Cape Fear Café in Duncan’s Mills. And that’s where <i>it’s happened again</i> happened again.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKLrNhuEF11Pyp59_7O5XoHTecA5DqaGTVlRSJjRvtYcU8fQme9JmMvI54HevQoFZ03fd6vb7TcVobTSfMcQeGqg5Hx4yJnaQwB9P6So3GR3TzrK_lT0L5rQWow6w2jOGDDS6P8SWb43XJ/s2048/6.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKLrNhuEF11Pyp59_7O5XoHTecA5DqaGTVlRSJjRvtYcU8fQme9JmMvI54HevQoFZ03fd6vb7TcVobTSfMcQeGqg5Hx4yJnaQwB9P6So3GR3TzrK_lT0L5rQWow6w2jOGDDS6P8SWb43XJ/w400-h300/6.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I’m setting the Special (now named Mariolanza for the way the exhaust note sings) on the side stand when a large man taking big striding steps crosses the parking lot. <i>Uh-oh,</i> I’m thinking, <i>What’d I do to <b>this</b></i><b> </b><i>guy?</i> Then he calls me ‘brother.’ He tells me of his newly purchased V-85 TT Touring and the good trade-in he received on his Griso, all of which was interesting, because it always is. I say always because I remember parking that Breva and, nine times out of ten, being approached by some someone who either once owned a Guzzi, now owns a Guzzi, or would like to own a Guzzi. They always have a story to tell. The conversation always starts with “Beautiful bike, man!”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">And my V7 Special is</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">. Fluid. Lovely. Italian. And lovely. ‘Mariolanza’ reminds me so many grand yesteryears and begs me to ride so many tomorrows. It’s a pleasure to be back in the community.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizwfoRHLNBDpKM4jv78qwkw0AGfjflswF6ju3FLhsRZ7lJ3j6ltpV06cLOV_3PdUPIiFcJy4rOFJulkugjxyeOwqNUJMVbGvMCkDWex3TAYMFeO33seCRMmzl8WxvZkUNVOmzhL-n_jEC9/s2048/7.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizwfoRHLNBDpKM4jv78qwkw0AGfjflswF6ju3FLhsRZ7lJ3j6ltpV06cLOV_3PdUPIiFcJy4rOFJulkugjxyeOwqNUJMVbGvMCkDWex3TAYMFeO33seCRMmzl8WxvZkUNVOmzhL-n_jEC9/s320/7.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Notes</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">: Purchased the V-7 at Sonoma Euro-Cycle in Windsor, Ca and felt I was treated professionally, fairly and with good doses of humor and motorcycle tales: <a href="https://rideeurocycle.com/" style="color: #954f72;">https://rideeurocycle.com</a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Stop by the Cape Fear Café for breakfast or lunch. I believe their home fries may be the sole reason God created the potato: <a href="http://www.capefearcafe.net/" style="color: #954f72;">http://www.capefearcafe.net</a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2021<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-89756679084890320522021-08-21T14:56:00.002-07:002021-08-25T10:29:24.154-07:00Memory of the Mt. Harkness Lookout<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><br /></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">Crossing Paths with Edward Abbey<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">“Trudge” or “Trudging.”</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> It is the word that I didn’t get right in the fourth-grade spelling bee at Rosedale School. What a stupid word, I thought, ranting to myself: Who’d ever use the word trudge? I’ll never use the word trudge! (Curiously, in ninth grade, I would hold similar concerns about the entire concept of “algebra.”)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> In August of 1966, I found myself trudging up the trail that led from Juniper Lake to the top of Mount Harkness in Lassen National Park. We’d been camping at the lake for nearly a week, and this was the first day that it wasn’t raining. Dad got us on the trail. “The view at the top will be spectacular,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> Mom had somehow forgotten her fancy Vasque hiking boots at home, so with her feet swaddled in Keds and socks with plastic Wonder Bread bags slipped over the socks to serve as waterproofing. She made it about a mile up the hill before she grumbled, “Enough!” and sat down on a rock in the sun. Brother Beebo, as I recall, stayed with her while Dad and I soldiered on.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> The trail was rocky and muddy. Rainwater and snowmelt often filled the path. Frequently, after tiring of slipping and slogging through the muck, I’d try walking through the ankle-deep green grasses at the side of the trail where the footing was even worse. The leather boots I wore I’d about grown out of, and they weren’t waterproof. I felt huge blisters forming on my cold, cold feet. But Dad prodded me onward. The meaning of that word from the fourth-grade spelling bee was becoming clearer and clearer with each step.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> At a fork in the trail, I paused and looked at Dad. I remember peering down upon Juniper Lake and thinking, if not saying, “Okay, we’ve gotten to a nice view. Can’t we turn back?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> Dad pulled a trail guide from his pocket and, as he pointed up the trail, he read: The last section of the trail switchbacks up a cinder cone… “Don’t you want to hike on a cinder cone?” “No.” Hikers can feel the grasshoppers dance at their feet… “Don’t you want to feel the grasshoppers dancing at your feet?” “No.” Once on top of the slope, the trail continues to the fire lookout. The fire lookout is staffed in the summer months and hikers are welcome to visit and learn about fire monitoring. “Don’t you want to learn about fires and stuff from the ranger?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> That sounded interesting, and I was off.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> As a kid, I was not a big fan of switchbacks. Wouldn’t it be easier to simply climb straight up the hill? And on the north-facing glade on Mount Harkness, that’s what I did, short-cutting two or three of them. The combination of the slope and the elevation squeezed the breath out of me pretty quickly. Panting, I waited for Dad to catch up, taking in the view of Lassen Peak to the west, a promontory called the Cinder Cone to the east and a number of lakes that dotted vast reaches of forests. A pair of gray birds that squawked like blue jays zoomed in and out of the scrubby trees that grew nearby. And there were flowers. It was like springtime in August.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiqCWeginttcZsqPdRxCOTTscILku2UrUZCG0zHMQM40JBB3dNn2a6MSvKqeBriQ1M2NiJE3mtqzwKBeIE_Qk_jm7hiTuijkQpp78Ph7tyb1QH1wKL0n0atog_HjxAaq6a0lpalxHZEK_q/s285/AAAA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="214" data-original-width="285" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiqCWeginttcZsqPdRxCOTTscILku2UrUZCG0zHMQM40JBB3dNn2a6MSvKqeBriQ1M2NiJE3mtqzwKBeIE_Qk_jm7hiTuijkQpp78Ph7tyb1QH1wKL0n0atog_HjxAaq6a0lpalxHZEK_q/w400-h300/AAAA.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">The fire lookout</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> atop Mount Harkness appeared like a great rustic lodge constructed of reddish-black boulders and rough-hewn timbers. The closer I got, the more magnificent it became. Only two stories in height, the thing seemed to loom over the mountain’s top. The lower level was made of those boulders, quite possibly gathered from this very mountaintop. A steel door was centered on one face of this basement, and I don’t recall if there were any windows. A wooden staircase climbed up one side leading to a catwalk that circled the outside of the structure. From the ground, I could see that the entire top floor was framed in great windows, offering a view of, well, everything. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> I stood at the base and looked up.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> A slender man with a thin beard appeared through a door to the upper level. He looked at me, then glanced to see Dad several yards back.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “Okay if he comes up?” Dad must have nodded, because the next thing I heard was “Come on up, kid.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> I climbed the stairs and circled the lookout on the catwalk. Mount Lassen was close enough to touch. Juniper Lake seemed directly below us and Lake Almanor, on the opposite side, almost as close. This may have been the first time I understood the concept of ‘seeing forever’ that Robert Goulet sang about on the radio and Dad sang about in the bathtub.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> The inside of the lookout was dominated by a table placed in the middle of the tiny space. Atop the table was a map with a weird looking sighting devise I learned that was used to pinpoint the location of a “smoke.” The interior was rustic and spare. Under the windows was a wire-spring bed, a tiny refrigerator, and cooktop, some primitive cabinets and shelves filled with canned goods and books. Mostly books, and a flute – which seemed out of place – just like the one Helen Sweet played in beginning band back in Seventh Grade. All the woodwork was painted a pale green, about the same color as the Park Service trucks and Jeeps I might have seen earlier.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “Candy, kid?” The ranger dug into a drawer and pulled out a butterscotch round. “Is that your mama you left down on the trail down there?” He pointed.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “Uh huh.” Not only could he see everything from up here, but he also noticed everything.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “Was that you I saw short-cuttin’ up the switchbacks?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> I gulped. <i>He noticed everything</i>. “Uh huh.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “Well. I’d like you not to do that on your way back down. It causes erosion because wears out the vegetation that protects the mountain side. If the mountainside goes, so does my house here.” He made a circle with his hand as he said this. “So please just trudge on down the trail like a good scout on your way back to camp, when the time comes. Understand?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “Uh huh.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> The ranger’s hair was long and messy and his beard untrimmed. He wore heavy green trousers and a khaki shirt. He had a badge pinned to his chest which meant he was the authority. A shine or a twinkle in his eye told me I wasn’t in much trouble for having left the trail, but I knew I wouldn’t do it again.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “You have any questions?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> My mind raced. <i>How do you get groceries? Ever see a fire? Ever see a bear? Do you stay here all year? Does it get cold up here? Does anyone ever come to visit? What do you do in your spare time? What do you do when you do see a fire?</i><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “When you have to pee, what do you do?” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> The ranger laughed. Dad, by now, was standing in the door. I’m sure he was embarrassed. Come to think of it, I probably was, too.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “Well, kid,” the ranger said. I’ve got real limited facilities up this way. Down over to that stand of pines they built an outhouse. A privy. But I don’t use that when I have to…” he looked at Dad. “…urinate. Out around this way,” he pointed, “there’s some rocks I use most of the time. Sun shines on it and evaporates most everything. Wind blows any stink away. And then, you want to know what’s funny?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> I nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> “Around dusk the deer come up this way and lick the salt off the cinders…”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4ZAFftJZ88CctFMDDswCih1ZNXLZltkjhnKyEeEaWkv0W4OgK0F_a4lszKSxBoIEpyYWhMeVMzTQLHBcOLcYwDYYYIcxEunbobD7pkEPDCu2T1X02xOhB7mZcDnt2l4oQIdtXowDwrAO/s706/BBBB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="488" data-original-width="706" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4ZAFftJZ88CctFMDDswCih1ZNXLZltkjhnKyEeEaWkv0W4OgK0F_a4lszKSxBoIEpyYWhMeVMzTQLHBcOLcYwDYYYIcxEunbobD7pkEPDCu2T1X02xOhB7mZcDnt2l4oQIdtXowDwrAO/w400-h276/BBBB.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">The late Edward Abbey</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> was one of the west’s great environmental voices of the middle part of the 20<sup>th</sup> century. His novel <u>The Monkey Wrench Gang</u> became a classic of the movement. Other works are clearly based on his experiences in various back-country domains, including <u>Black Sun</u> which centers on the despair of a solitary lookout stationed on the rim of the Grand Canyon.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> Having read almost all his work, the last book of his that I picked up was his journal called <u>Confessions of a Barbarian</u>. On page 203, it reads:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">September 13, 1966 – <i>Mount Harkness: The deer – bony scrawny starving things, like giant mice, stare at me in motionless fascination when I play my flute for them – not amused or amazed, or puzzled or frightened, but simply… fascinated: silent wonder. They gather around the lookout and in the crater below in herds, as many as fifteen or sixteen at a time, counting fawns.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> Giant vermin, they’ll nibble anything for a taste of salt – they even lick up my urine from the cinders…</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 10pt;">© 2006, 2021<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-44747308380867178022021-07-21T11:58:00.009-07:002021-07-21T12:18:13.696-07:00LAST FRIDAY’S CLOSE CALL<p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Treatise on the potential hazards wrought by <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">wearing riding gear to the lumber yard <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">while driving a Subaru…<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">I was not on the Yamaha.</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I was in the Subaru. I’d just left the Home Depot in a town twenty miles distant and, given that I was in the area, decided to swing by the European motorcycle dealer who, among other things, marketed Moto Guzzi, to ask howcum he didn’t have any Guzzis on the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTMulpVXpkyX4PFTzHeMiEHj2ekX_V6J3043ZEbjKv1-WVgwL-eC-tl1XrAJ6vSeEGWn3UG8PZm2sOExt3DbClZR7dzmr2uX929xaWnFhDL2lQIr8FibgYIFsPhqyqlT8lZGZaEA6KBCBh/s2048/IMG_1015.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTMulpVXpkyX4PFTzHeMiEHj2ekX_V6J3043ZEbjKv1-WVgwL-eC-tl1XrAJ6vSeEGWn3UG8PZm2sOExt3DbClZR7dzmr2uX929xaWnFhDL2lQIr8FibgYIFsPhqyqlT8lZGZaEA6KBCBh/s320/IMG_1015.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The gent in sales was someone I’d run across before.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Not here, however.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Richard, his name is, owns a renowned motorcycle soft gear manufacturing company that happened to recently relocate to in my very (little) city.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">A couple of months back, I was eye-balling a state-of-the-art BMW parked in front of his shop.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Wow!” I said, “That thing looks like it just came out of the showroom! How many miles on it?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">His wife who’d come outside responded: “37.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Fast forward to last Friday</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> and Richard, who claims his wife actually runs the business – advertising, sales, manufacturing – Richard, when he bought the Beemer noticed that the staff at the Euro-shop was a bit thin. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Need help?” Richard had asked.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“Nope,” was the reply…<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">… until he returned to buy a smaller BMW for “the boss.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Bottom line? For the past couple of weeks, he’s been part-time in sales at the bike shop.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“So,” I say, clad in sneakers and shorts and a t-shirt and with a 16’ Stanley Powerlock tape clipped to my belt, “are you all still carrying Guzzis? I see other dealers in your group have ‘em but you don’t.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“We carry ‘em when we can get ‘em,” Richard replied. “We just can’t get ‘em what with the pandemic and all.” Then he added, “We only have one right now.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">None were listed on the website, so I was a bit surprised.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4-Na6ki2M5BhF7Ty1_-oV_jfRWm1y9-C7WT3LxX3OAMRo8sr-8YZfFiebYsB2c7tM_j12HvXtMiPjfPU1oytGtyECGEasxXlGOdZV9odbu2TIfdjwOPUFHdAY-6WkQFH0KACiGVdjwCWp/s1445/1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="877" data-original-width="1445" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4-Na6ki2M5BhF7Ty1_-oV_jfRWm1y9-C7WT3LxX3OAMRo8sr-8YZfFiebYsB2c7tM_j12HvXtMiPjfPU1oytGtyECGEasxXlGOdZV9odbu2TIfdjwOPUFHdAY-6WkQFH0KACiGVdjwCWp/s320/1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Promotional Image from Las Vegas Euro-Sports</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“It’s a V7 Classic.”</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“2021?” I’d been drooling over the 2021 online for quite some time.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">“I think so.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Moto Guzzi is the essence</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> of motorcycling. Lots of character. Timeless design. Italian mojo. Not a lot of power or grunt or speed, but as the motorcycling press says, “If you’re buying a Moto Guzzi, that’s not what you’re looking for.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsnwMJMYcK1Q_qgEffDMngIoc7KhYvD0kqYEBBtsxGl_dKAgetgTRXhWjNzDlrJbdwxURf4FDMgFqY3MNiZVikdjPqEJe2zYn0_JSdVCTMQUlkbcuxHH7ssK7AbOq3dxn2YxT-UALkvxcO/s512/2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsnwMJMYcK1Q_qgEffDMngIoc7KhYvD0kqYEBBtsxGl_dKAgetgTRXhWjNzDlrJbdwxURf4FDMgFqY3MNiZVikdjPqEJe2zYn0_JSdVCTMQUlkbcuxHH7ssK7AbOq3dxn2YxT-UALkvxcO/s320/2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Promotional Image from Moto Guzzi</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Guzzi is currently producing three or four models each with a few iterations of design, color, or bling. Of all the Guzzi models, the V7 is the essence of Guzzi’s “essence of motorcycling.” Simple. Sound. Beautiful.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQwr2EeQZwdvZqF74a_EuMb8tUU9z7BJf72knXQNhSMyjTKhq1nLveqlSnBCBuMVlCvASa53-jeBOG4xOauUptjIqWvn9y-ZboyPYyNvm7tDbCqSvvM_oFPLKlBGOT-4zBi4wdg1CHwWGO/s276/3.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQwr2EeQZwdvZqF74a_EuMb8tUU9z7BJf72knXQNhSMyjTKhq1nLveqlSnBCBuMVlCvASa53-jeBOG4xOauUptjIqWvn9y-ZboyPYyNvm7tDbCqSvvM_oFPLKlBGOT-4zBi4wdg1CHwWGO/s0/3.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not me. Yet.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 14pt;"></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;">I sat on this spanking new silver-gray V7 (it also comes in a drop-dead gorgeous blue) with its luxurious brown leather seat and chatted with Richard about the roads he’d ridden in his 74 years tooling around northern California and the west, and the same ones I’d ridden in my nearly 70 years.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span>I thought about doing ‘em all over again on this piece of rolling artistry.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The seat of the Italian beauty cradled my posterior, and I was flooded with memories of the time and the miles spent on my ’07 Guzzi Breva – a roadster I never shoulda let get away.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">All the while I’m thinking, “This is why I don’t bring my riding gear to the Home Depot.”</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">That said</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">, had the “only one we have right now” been in that drop-dead gorgeous blue, I probably woulda had to figure something out. And it’d probably be sitting in my garage right now.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Close call, indeed.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2021<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4416632051965806588.post-76795694115221517202021-06-21T18:17:00.001-07:002021-06-23T16:38:09.902-07:00MY LITTLE DOG TOO<p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">… a true-to-life rescue story…<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">On a recent Sunday</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;">, we were the humans of a second dog for about 45 minutes. Because he was a stray who, like our lab-mix Edward, sorta found us, I named our new dog “Too.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> California’s State Route 175 heads east from US 101 at Hopland. It alternately winds through foothills and races across fertile valleys of vineyard and ranchland. Were it not for a 17-mile stretch of crumbling, twisty pavement over the Mayacamas, it might be considered a shortcut to somewhere. Just shy of those mountains, the Sanal Valley is home to the industrial strength Ray’s Station Winery. 175 shoots a straight line across this valley’s floor and travelers pick up the pace from around 30 miles per hour to above 65. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> That Sunday morning, we were powering up along the stretch when our eyes were distracted by a tiny tan and white dot cris-crossing the pavement near the winery. We slowed, as did an on-comer. Drawing near, we found the wandering dot was a tiny dog – perhaps a chihuahua-terrier mix of some sort – darting here and there, into and out of the traffic lanes, likely confused but surely in danger.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Oh, we need to stop!” Candi said.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “No, we need to keep going,” I replied, knowing we had somewhere to be at some specific time.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “It’ll get run over!”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Keep going!”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “I can’t live with that.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Candi pulled into a wide spot and idled the Subaru under a spreading oak.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Reluctantly – because I know how these things have ended up in the past (apologies to Edward) – I hopped out and while crossing the highway, palmsed down approaching vehicles to encourage them to slow.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I positioned myself between the little dog and the pavement. He warily scurried about on the dirt shoulder. At times, I could approach and lightly scratch his head but was viciously snapped at if I attempted to scoop him up or slip my finger under his tiny red collar. No tags dangled from that collar but the collar told me he belonged to someone. With each of my futile attempts at capture, he would gyrate away. A couple of sport bikes whistled by, then an F-150. I knew couldn’t let the dog make it back to the road.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzV4u-2j50vC8HBCBM-wWYz4LYjZsuVPnzu3wY4d8b2YV4aoxAr5gvg20oWcjAHy1KSIxBDeR_pEzazz3vyLz23NfbF37P2ntNIaB2ce1XTyFcv9aR2B5cZSQfHWS9Jg2MM2Rrzk_JbJ5_/s740/z.1+Chihuahua-Terrier-Mix-with-Jack-Russell.jpg.webp" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="493" data-original-width="740" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzV4u-2j50vC8HBCBM-wWYz4LYjZsuVPnzu3wY4d8b2YV4aoxAr5gvg20oWcjAHy1KSIxBDeR_pEzazz3vyLz23NfbF37P2ntNIaB2ce1XTyFcv9aR2B5cZSQfHWS9Jg2MM2Rrzk_JbJ5_/w400-h266/z.1+Chihuahua-Terrier-Mix-with-Jack-Russell.jpg.webp" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not the real dog, but he looked a lot like this one...</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Grab Edward’s leash!” I hollered across the highway. Edward, by now, knew something was up. He was peering out the side window of the Sube witnessing in horror, I’m sure, that his humans were about to violate the first commandment: that being <i>thou shalt have no other dogs before me.</i> (Apologies to Moses.)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Candi snapped the leash around the red collar – couldn’t seem to match the clip to the collar’s D-ring – but the little guy apparently didn’t cotton to such constriction. He rolled over on his back and kicked and snapped at us from the dust. We retrieved a towel from the car and tried to wrap him up, but he didn’t particularly want to be wrapped up. Finally, we fashioned a bit of a noose by looping the leash through the leash’s loop on its people end and slipped the thing over the little guy’s head. Tightening it no further than simply secure, the miniscule critter suddenly relaxed. Five minutes of soft murmurs and gentle rubs on the head and then belly, and the little guy was ours. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> With a cell tower in sight, I placed a call to Mendocino County Animal Control. Closed on Sunday. This seemed as outrageous as a dump being closed on Thanksgiving. (Apologies to Arlo Guthrie.) But my call was patched through to sheriff’s dispatch. Explaining the circumstance, the dispatcher, once learning that the locale was a state highway, forwarded my call to the CHP. Upon finding that we’d already secured the animal and it was no longer a potential hazard, the CHP rerouted my call to Animal Control. Nowhere was where we were going and there was somewhere we were supposed to be.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Apparently, the dog was now ours. Placing hands on each side of his heaving ribcage, Candi carried him across the road at arm’s length and placed him in the footwell of the Sube’s passenger seat. He’d calmed appreciably by this time. Perhaps it was trust. Perhaps he knew he was no longer in danger. Maybe he thought he was going home. Our home.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Candi was pleased. The puppy was pleased. Grudgingly, I was pleased. Edward, however, was not. <i>What other commandments do my humans choose to so willingly ignore?</i><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Now what?</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> We couldn’t take him with us, and we couldn’t leave him there. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> The little guy must have been a local. The red collar told us so. That, and he was too cute and too compliant to be a pup someone would abandon by the side of a state highway. Well, most someones. The little guy was a charmer. In the footwell he was quiet and no longer feeling the need to nip or cower. At one point I could swear a heard the slightest chihuahua-sized sigh of contentment as he settled against Candi’s feet.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Across the road from the Ray’s Station Winery lay a farm or cattle ranch that likely dated back to the nineteenth century. Not having given way to wine grapes, the fencing and distant barns said livestock. They also suggested that whoever lived there might know where this little chi-terrier gentleman belonged. As we wended along the gravel road between the snaking fences, I reached down into and rubbed the little guy’s head. Craning his wanting neck toward my departing fingers, he seemed to say, “Please, sir. I’d like some more.” (Apologies to ‘Oliver’.)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “What if there’s nobody here? What if they don’t know the owner?” Candi asked as we bumped along. “What if…”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “I guess we’ll have a second dog. I already know what to name him.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> The parallel fence line widened as we approached a dusty complex of barns, outbuildings and corrals. As we drove up, two men were heading out in an aging burgundy red Dodge pickup. I suspected they didn’t get a lot of visitors out this way. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Lowering my window, I held up a hand. “We found a little dog wandering about on the highway just now.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> The driver looked at Edward. “That one?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “No.” Candi lifted the chihuahua and whatever-happened-to-be-on-the-block-that-day mix from the footwell. “Do you know if he belongs to anyone around here? We’re on our way to somewhere and we really can’t or shouldn’t keep him. Called the shelter but they were closed.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> By this time, the rancher who’d been driving had stepped out of his Dodge. Candi held up the rascal. The rancher looked at the dog. I suspect they made eye contact: man-to-dog, dog-to-man eye contact.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> The man considered, but only for a moment. “I have two dogs already. I don’t think having a third one would much matter.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> He gently took up the dog, grasping him by his now-not-heaving sides. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4rfX7qXGSsjO8KJguDvDaZup7qL3mztHpcxv13BgEezghNrwrhG60SH3U7fWuk9hKWFTdvBgTrizSY5P6I9qlFtyH9XK2B5DDsh2roKmpF-pXiVV-uLMhY2eWKSavFeNABapk__MLqpNV/s1024/z.2+vozr6.jpg.webp" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="1024" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4rfX7qXGSsjO8KJguDvDaZup7qL3mztHpcxv13BgEezghNrwrhG60SH3U7fWuk9hKWFTdvBgTrizSY5P6I9qlFtyH9XK2B5DDsh2roKmpF-pXiVV-uLMhY2eWKSavFeNABapk__MLqpNV/w400-h266/z.2+vozr6.jpg.webp" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not the real lap, either, but what does it matter?</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Look,” I said. “If you can’t find the owner or it somehow doesn’t work out, here’s my card. E-mail me and I’ll come pick him up and take him to the shelter when they’re open.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Tucking the little guy under one arm, he took my card and nodded. “This will be no problem…”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “But if it is…”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> He nodded again as we turned and headed back toward the highway.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><b><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal;">Once returned to route 175</span></b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Candi asked, “you said you had a name for him already. What was it?”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> “Too,” I said, and I explained why. Candi seemed to nod. “Plus," I added, "when we go to the vet, the vet can refer to him as 'Your little dog, Too'.” (Apologies to the Wicked Witch of the West and to Margaret Hamilton who owns that role on film and who uttered that iconic line.)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> After thirty-five years of marriage, my loving wife had long since grown more than a bit weary of my wit. Presently, we began to consider the principal differences between dogs and humans: <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…Dogs are loyal. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…Dogs are inherently trusting and true. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">…Dogs are protective and their love is unconditional.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> We agreed on these and quite a few others including: “A dog would never abandon their human by the side of the road.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> Five miles up the hill, I was half-hoping the rancher would not contact me.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span> <span> </span></span>Days later, the other half is still hoping he will.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">© 2021<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; margin: 0in; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Church of the Open Road Press<o:p></o:p></span></p>Bumpahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05498776240120709232noreply@blogger.com0