" Wisdom is worth more than silver, it makes you much richer than gold"

(Proverbs 3:14)

Cindy and I recently completed a trip over the Thanksgiving holiday, a trip that we enjoyed immensely.  My brother has lived in Texas for many years and other than seeing him at a funeral, we just haven't kept in touch.  Neither one of us are really very social and we are both very independent.  I had told him many times that we were going to come visit but I was always able to come up with a reason not to.  

With the passing of my brother-in-law just a few months ago (he was only a few days older than I am) I kind of got to evaluating what is really important in life.  If you have followed my blog, you know that an accident just over four years ago pretty much depleted my income and eventually bankrupted us.  I made it a point to scrimp and save every spare penny I could so that we could make a trip this Thanksgiving that allowed me to go see my brother, my relatives on my Mom's side in south Mississippi, then go to central Tennessee to visit my Mom and sisters.  

My brother is a true artist!  He can make anything you can imagine out of wood, unlike me.  My only product from wood is toothpicks.  I marveled at some of the items he showed me while I was visiting.  The amazement was compounded by hearing the story behind each accomplishment.  My brother is not a showman but tells sincere stories of his creations, the history from start to finish.  I am putting a couple pictures in this blog to show you what I mean.  I am going to tell you as much as I know about the two items. 

To truly appreciate this model of a track hoe you have to hear the events that brought about it's creation.  While at a dinner with people from his work, people that know that my brother has wisdom and insight and actually can "see" things in wood that no one else sees, one of them was holding a chopstick.  He looked at Bob (finally used his name) and asked just what he saw in that chopstick.  Bob's answer was that he saw a track hoe.  Then came the challenge to show the track hoe.  Bob sat there and with only his leatherman, from the time they ordered their meal to the time it was served, he made the track hoe you see above.  He used sugar and water as glue and spared no detail.  Even the bucket is hollowed out and the boom actually works.  The object you see next to the hoe is a quarter just so you can get an idea of the scale.  

Bob has a coffee table in his house that I just could not get over.  It was about the prettiest piece of furniture I have ever seen.  Bob told of how he took a fallen cedar log from a recent hurricane and formed it from log to table.  The pictures do not do it justice.  It looks like the paint must be a half inch thick.  You don't look at this table, you look into this table.

 I spent a couple days with Bob and Nancy, just enjoying some time with my brother.  He took me around and showed me many more of his projects.  I don't think I would ever tire of looking at what he has accomplished.





We left Bob's and headed east to visit my relatives in southern Mississippi.  The last time I saw these relatives was also at a funeral.  My aunts and uncles on Mom's side had a lot to do with me becoming who I am.  Between them and my Grandma and Grandpa, these were my examples of how to live.  My dad taught me a lot, mostly about my trade and survival, these relatives taught me about life and caring about others.  I learned how to have fun around these relatives.  I learned about good feelings from them.  My inspiration for writing this actually came to me while I was reading a book written by my Aunt Rie (southern for Marie).  I saw this verse while reading her book and it planted a seed in my heart to write this adventure.

We spent a couple days having a great visit with the aunts and uncles then headed on up to central Tennessee to visit with Mom and my sisters, joined by my brother-in-law.  We all had a great Thanksgiving dinner together, Mom, my sisters and my sister's kids and grand kids.  One of the reasons I wrote this under the heading of wisdom and value is because of something that happened while I was at Mom's.
I may have inadvertently upset some relatives while I was there.  I had no intention of doing so but sometimes things happen that set off a course of events that end up leading to hurt feelings.  I want to thank God that I have the wisdom to realize that I may have done this and pray that if I hurt anyone they will forgive me.  I felt badly the entire way home over what had happened.

To bring this back into perspective of the title, I don't know why but I felt that I had been given the wisdom to make this trip.  Sometimes you never know if this will be the last time I am able to talk to any of these relatives face to face again or if I'll be able to talk to them with both of us on this side of the dirt.  The time we have on this earth is not guaranteed and unless we take the time to appreciate those we love, waiting may be too late.  I feel at ease, I know that should any of us pass, I had the wisdom to realize that family is important and even though it was financially difficult, the richness I got from seeing and visiting my relatives is worth more than any gold or silver that could come my way.

I hope and pray that my kids and grand kids stay close and hold sacred the value of family.  When I pass, I pray that there be no disputes between my sons.  I pray that they realize that having a brother means being a brother and no matter what happens in life that they never let anything come between them as brothers.  I wish for my sons and their families that when I am gone they will pass on to their kids that this old man loved his family and placed more value in them than any amount of silver or gold could ever come close to purchasing.

In closing I would like to wish everyone a very Merry Christmas, may God bless.

October 29, 2003 The Beginning...

Cindy and I had been riding with the Eastern Kansas Tour Riders for over a year by this time.  We had made many great new friends and had ridden several short, exciting group rides with them.  There was one member, in particular, that I really liked to talk with and dream of doing some of the things he had done on a motorcycle, Robert.  I would sit and listen to him tell of his road adventures and the rides he had been on much like a child would listen to a fairy tale.  Robert had been everywhere on his motorcycle and painted such a great picture with his stories that one could only hope to someday have such an adventure as those he spoke of.  Someone else that seemed equally caught up when Robert would speak was my best friend, Tom.  It seemed that Tom and I always tried to sit near Robert at our weekly club dinner rides.  We both would sit there and envision ourselves on the ride with Robert.  October 29, 2003 was one of these dinners and, for me, the beginning of what would be my turn to live and create some of the most fantastic travel memories of my life! 
In Kansas City the weather is simply put, unpredictable.  There is no real pattern to it.  We can have today's weather of sunny and warm and tomorrow be cold and covered with snow.  This particular October day found us blessed with a very warm, sunny day.  The forecast for the weekend was more late summer/early fall type predictions than the normal cold and dreary commonly expected for this time of year.  We had a large turn out for this dinner ride, in great part, due to this fantastic weather.  Tom and I sat and listened to Robert tell of the fantastic "Dragon" in the mountains of Tennessee that made its way into the beauty of North Carolina with its alluring 318 curves in just 11 miles.  I had read of this road in some of my motorcycling magazines and had dreamed of trailering my bike there someday and riding the Dragon.  Yes, I said trailering.  It was a long way to the Dragon and quite honestly I had not convinced myself that I could ride that far on a motorcycle.  Life was about to make a very dramatic change!  I was about to have one of those moments when my mouth would suddenly develop it's own course of action without first consulting my usually analytical mind.  The conversation between myself, Robert and Tom went something like this:
Robert: "We (referring to himself, Tom and me) should ride to the Dragon together someday."
Tom: "Man, that would be awesome!"
Me (remember, mouth in action before brain engaged): "The forecast is good for this weekend, let's leave Friday after work and do it!"
There was a couple problems with my statement.  Problem number one was that this was a one way ride, just to get to the area of well over 750 miles.  Now, take into account that we would ride once we got there and we would all have to be back at work Monday morning.  I had never ridden that far in a day before.  I had never been on a road as challenging as the Dragon and had never really ridden in the mountains.  I have driven in the mountains and had a very good indication of how tricky the roads could be to maneuver and felt quite comfortable on mountain roads in a car or in an 18 wheeler, wasn't quite sure about a motorcycle.  Thanks mouth, I think you may have just lead me to something that I would fail at, and I do not like to fail.
I sat back, surprised at the words from my mouth, subconsciously hoping that maybe, just maybe, they had not heard what had spouted from my lips.  They had heard.  Immediately the conversation switched from "we should"  to here's what we will do". 
I think Tom and I pretty much in harmonious synchronization looked "lovingly" at our respective spouses and asked "can I go on a ride with Robert this weekend?"  Neither spouse thought that was a real unusual request and granted us our request, then asked where we would be going.  Both of them had looks of total wonder when they found out we were doing a weekend ride to Tennessee.
Now I am really obligated.  My mouth has surely killed me this time.  Since it was my idea, there was no way I was going to chicken out of this, no matter how much my brain tried to convince me this was not a good idea.  The three of us immediately got out a map (dinner, forget dinner, this was far more important) and agreed that Gatlinburg, Tennessee would be a fantastic place to begin our adventure.  We agreed to leave after I got off work Friday and head out.
I went to work Thursday with a feeling of pride.  I was about to ride to the Dragon and spend some time riding in the Great Smoky Mountains.  I was about to have a "Robert" motorcycle adventure.  My co-worker, having been an over the road truck driver, introduced me to a reality that I had lost sight of.  It was over 750 miles to Gatlinburg.  If we were going to ride once we got there and be back (another 750 miles, at least), that meant I would be on my motorcycle at least 25 to 30 hours.  I had to be back at work Monday morning at 7 am and performing the task of auto mechanic while sleep walking was not safe.  He worded it a lot different but that was the message.  Wow!  I hadn't thought about all that.  None the less, my mouth had gotten me in this and I had to do it, after all, it was possible, right?
Friday morning came and the excitement was just indescribable.  I showed up for work at 7am and got busy.  Being an auto mechanic is a very unpredictable job.  Some days each task is a simple one, some days require more mind work than actual physical labor, and then there are the Friday's like the one I was about to have.  This was to be a very physical day.  I ended up performing not just one but two clutch installations!  Now the thing to remember here is that I was of the mindset that I did not need a transmission jack when doing these type of jobs.  I just lifted the transmissions out and back in.  That was easier and that was the way a young, fit guy would do it.  Transmission jacks were for the weak.  I was in the process of my second clutch when I got the phone call....
"Hey Frank, what are you doing?"  It was Tom on the other end and I could tell from the tone of his voice he was not working.  There was the hint of joy in his voice.
Now I have to interject here that the weather in Kansas City on Thursday was good but the weather on Friday started out more like June than the end of October but deteriorated very rapidly so that by noon I was looking at a very cloudy sky with temperatures rapidly falling.  This was not what I was expecting, and quite honestly, neither was the next thing I heard.
"Man, I'm working, just like you are, right?" I replied, even though my gut told me he was not at work.  "We're still on for leaving this evening, right?  Tom, just where are you?"
Amongst the many things that intrigued Tom and I about Robert was that Robert was a member of the Iron Butt Association, an organization that was all about long distance riding.  The minimum qualifier to become a member of this elite group was you had to do a documented and witnessed ride of no less than 1000 miles in less than 24 hours.  Robert had done this more than once.  This was one of the quests that Tom and I had talked about many times, and would someday do.
"Robert and I are in (honestly I don't remember where he said he was, I just know he wasn't anywhere near Kansas City) on our way to Gatlinburg, the long way around." 
What?  Seems that the weather was too nice Thursday and Tom and Robert had a far more flexible work schedule than I did, end result, Tom and Robert had taken off Thursday and headed out on an official Iron Butt Saddlesore 1000 so that Tom could get his official membership in the Iron Butt Association.  This really changed the stakes.  This meant that I would have to ride to Gatlinburg by myself.  To really make matters more dismal, it was now starting to drizzle outside and the temperature was now in the low 40's, not the upper 60's like the beginning of the day. Tom sensed my mood change. 
"You're not going to come now are you?"
"I don't know, I am tired, having two heavy jobs in one day and the weather is becoming quite miserable, I don't know right now."
"I'll give you a call when we get there and check in.  Got to go, talk to ya later."
I could bow out and not feel bad about not going on a trip that was my idea.  They would understand, I was physically tired, and too in-experienced to make such a trip by myself so yea, I had a legitimate out.  I had almost convinced myself to not go by the time I got home, sometime around 530 or so.  I was really down, I had been looking forward to at least attempting to do this and now it seemed that it just wasn't meant to be. 
I was greeted by my loving wife, a woman that can read me better than I could read any printed page.  She sensed my depressed mood and was trying to assure me that I should go ahead and make the trip, then the phone rang, a phone call with a challenge that would be the beginning of my motorcycling future!
"Hey man, how's it going?  The weather get any better?" Tom was sounding a bit tired but I could hear in his voice that he had accomplished the ride and was not boasting but wanted to convey his victory.
"Weather sucks here.  Cold and drizzling, I don't know.  Where are you?" I asked, trying to sound interested but not too, holding my feeling of disappointment back.
"We're in Gatlinburg!  I did my Saddlesore 1000.  We are going to get some food and then rest." 
I hesitated to answer, then came the challenge.
"You are not going to come are you?"
Challenge?  What challenge?  That question doesn't sound like a challenge.  Oh, but it was.  It wasn't his words or the way he said them but my ears heard it as a challenge!
"Sure I'm coming!  Give me the name of your hotel and I'll see you in the morning!" 
There goes that running mouth without prior brain engagement again!
We kind of bounced back and forth on no you're not with my yes I am for a bit.  Finally I told Tom I had to get going. 
I was mounted on my motorcycle and finally headed out of Kansas City at 630 pm, central time.  The weather was miserable!  I thought more than once during the trek across Missouri about turning around and just quitting.  The weather radio on my bike kept telling me that this was what I had to look forward to all the way to St. Louis, maybe even beyond.  There would be no disgrace is playing the safety card and just going back home.  If you know me, you know that I don't comprehend the word "quit". 
I rode on across Missouri, adapting to the conditions and starting to feel more excited about what I was doing.  I had driven in worse, in a car or truck.  This was new to me.  Riding in the elements that were not shielded from me.  Exposed to feel the cold and dampness.  No, I was going to meet this challenge!
The ride slowly got better.  I proceeded across interstate 64 and as I neared Mt Vernon Illinois, I could see some stars.  I headed south on interstate 57 and the further south I went, the warmer it got.  This was going pretty good!  I began to forget the miserable conditions from earlier in the day and was starting to get into this ride.  I was monitoring the CB radio, never a bad idea when you are trying to make some time.  The CB talk soon took on an avenue that I really didn't like, the talk of rain ahead!
I was more accustomed to riding in the rain than in my "rookie" days and the rain itself did not bother me.  The thought of rain and the fact that I was getting tired did bother me.  I kept going, I had come too far to turn back now. 
To my relief, the rain never happened.  The skies cleared and the stars again made themselves brightly visible in the moonlit sky.  I careened down the interstate, again starting to enjoy the ride when I was made aware of another obstacle that I had not thought about.  Now since most of my riding experience up til now had been during the daylight hours I had never really thought much about the sudden appearance of Bambi and the catastrophic results of motorcycle meets deer but as I rode on during the night the high number of deer carcasses that I saw along the interstate suddenly made me aware that this was a force to be reckoned with.  Now, even though I was getting tired, I had to focus and be alert for deer on the highway.
I am glad to report that I did not meet Bambi that night.  The motorcycle and I continued on our way.  The only stops we made were for fresh fuel for my machine and a fluid exchange for me.  I rode on through Nashville.  Quite a new experience for me.  I have driven through Nashville and other big cities many times but motorcycling through an unfamiliar big city is a demanding task, even if the traffic is light.  People don't look for motorcycles and in the wee hours of the morning it has been my experience that the majority of the drivers are not very alert, be it due to fatigue or substance, either way, I was on my toes and alert.  I did not want to get squashed after making it this far.
I grabbed interstate 40 out of Nashville and was now headed east.  I was beginning to encounter the foothills of the mountains.  The weather was getting really nice and my adrenaline was still rushing from riding through Nashville.  I was beginning to enjoy this trip!
My 97 Goldwing was equipped with a Tulsa tall windshield.  I had never really given much thought to this when I bought the bike but I was soon to learn that this was not a real good thing all the time.  I have always liked looking over the windshield of my motorcycles but with this one, I had no choice but to look through it.  Not normally a big deal but tonight I learned to not like this tall screen.  I began to make my way up the Cumberland when the combination of engine heat and moisture and surrounding temperature resulted in total loss of visibility through the windshield due to rapid condensation.  I rode on in my upward assent by standing on the foot pegs and looking over the windshield.  This slowed me down a bit but I figured it was better to see where I was going than to to encounter a more solid object at speed. 
My motorcycle and I continued our journey.  Each mile was more proof that I was destined for this kind of riding.  The traveling that has always been in my blood was now meeting up with the excitement of motorcycling and the two together were about to become a positive mindset that would take me places, that would entice me to do things that challenged me and show me a whole new way to enjoy living!
The departure from the interstate onto highway 441 towards Gatlinburg found me very tired.  I was struggling to keep awake and having difficulty maintaining speed.  I managed to get one more burst of energy and made it on into Gatlinburg. 
The sun was starting to change the hue of the eastern sky.  The time was 630 am Eastern time!  I had just covered over 750 miles in eleven hours by myself! (yes I did the math, speed may have been exceeded just a little)  I was excited, to say the least.  I found the hotel that Tom had told me they were at and proudly knocked on the door. 
They could see that I was tired and honestly I really think they were surprised to see me at all.  We made some small talk and since everyone was up, they went to grab some breakfast and I took the opportunity to get about 45 minutes sleep while they were gone. 
This was going to be a great day!  I had been awake since 6 am Friday morning.  I had done some very physical work, I had met the challenge of rotten weather, I had missed the rain, missed Bambi, traveled through Nashville and climbed the mountains, in 45 minutes I would be headed out on the Blue Ridge Parkway, headed for the famous Dragon, seeing the majesty of the Cherahola Skyway and having the time of my life with two very treasured friends.  Yes, this was the beginning of a lifetime of living!
Watch for the second part of this adventure to come soon.  Thanks for reading and remember life is for living!

These two are the sun rising after my 45 minute nap in Gatlinburg Tennessee.  It seems that motorcycling enables eyes to see beauty that was always there, just never really appreciated to the degree that it should be.

 This is a picture of, from left to right, Tom, Myself and my motorcycling Guru, Robert at the Fugitive Lookout.  Thank you so much for helping open this door to adventure.




 

This ride became an annual tradition, every fall from 2003 through the fall of 2008, then again in 2010.  I will post more pictures in part 2 and beyond.  I urge everyone to find their passion, motorcycling is mine.  May God Bless!

2012, The year of Fathers (plural) Passing

Seems that 2012 has been a year that Cindy and myself will remember the remainder of our lives.  Cindy's dad, Ralph, lost his battle with cancer and went on to his heavenly home in March.  On October 27, my dad lost his battle with cancer and passed to his heavenly home.  This blog is dedicated to both their memories.  This writing is in no way intended to take away from either father's life contributions, both men led full lives and both men lived their own way.  The mainstay of this blog is simply my reflections of how mainly my own dad's life influenced me to become what I am today.  Please don't regard any of my rantings as a lack of love for my dad, I did love him, but simply his influence based on my experiences living with him as my dad.
Dad was the youngest of twelve kids.  He didn't talk much about his child hood but from the few accounts he did vocalize, it was not a childhood he wanted to dwell in.  Dad wasn't even given the courtesy of a name.  He was given the simple initials of J. W. as a name.  It wasn't until he enlisted in the military that he adopted the name of James because the military would not accept initials only.  To this day I don't think that he ever had a name of record, just J.W.
Growing up with dad was not an easy task.  Dad had basically two things that gave his life meaning, so it seamed, to me.  Family was not one of those two things.  His life was driven in the beginning by his service in the military and followed by his life in a truck.
Now I want to pause just a moment to interject something.  In today's culture of blaming others or situations or what have you for personal faults and failures I want it clearly understood that I do not blame any of my faults or failures on my up-bringing, I do not blame either of my parents for decisions that I, an individual with the capacity to think on my own, made.  The Lord gave me the ability to think and speak for myself.  How well those thoughts or actions materialized were based on my decisions, based on influences contributed by those around me.  Too often I am sickened by generations blaming parental generations because their life is screwed up.  I'm sorry, I just don't buy into this line of thought.  I find it impossible to blame someone for a conscious decision made by a person able to think and act on their own.  If you grew up in an abusive home, I feel for you , but that does not give you the right to be an abusive parent yourself.  If you grew up in a home with successful parents, that does not guaranty you success, your own thoughts, your own actions, your own mind set is all that can determine the life you lead.
Dad traveled a lot.  That was his job, he was an independent truck driver, he enjoyed life on the road.  I have to think that he felt in control when he drove, perhaps a feeling that did not exist in a home situation.  To say that it was easy growing up in his household would be a blatant lie on my part but at the same time the way I was raised actually made me grow up and become my own man.  Dad did not spend a lot of time with me as a kid.  He spent most of his life in the cab of a truck, traveling, being in control, being self dependent, and maybe avoiding the task of raising a family because just like all of us, no one likes to do something that they don't have experience with.  Dad did not have a family or a father to teach him how to be a dad.  The military was his first real family.  The military had rules, the military had people in charge, the military formed his mind to the way that he thought a "family" should act and perform.  I think that after the family came, he realized that the military way was not the family way but that was all he knew.  Maybe that is one of the reasons he was always gone.
I look back many times on the activities that my siblings and I participated in.  I can honestly say that my dad was never really a part of those activities.  My mom is the one that took care of our school activities, got involved with us in scouts and anything else we wanted to do.
I could have very easily done nothing with my life and used the excuse that I had an abusive parent.  I chose not to do that.  I chose instead to open my eyes, to watch and learn from my parents.  I strived to make sure that when my time came as a parent that my kids would not endure the same educational upbringing that I had.
I did not do a perfect job, but I did my best.  I see pictures of families that have been on vacations together, that go on outings together, that enjoy being together.  I think that is fantastic!  Families should be together and enjoy that togetherness.  I really cannot recall a family vacation.  That is not to say we never went on one, it is just that no matter what, they seemed to always turn sour, basically I think that I just blocked the few vacations we did take out of my mind because it seemed that anytime we were together as a family, I could not live up to the standards that my dad expected of me.  It would have been real easy for me to just accept that I would never amount to much and blame my dad for my failures but I tend to look at things differently.
The high expectations that my dad had for me caused me to work very hard.  I wanted so much to hear him tell me that I had done good, that I excelled at something, anything, I wanted his praise!  The need for that praise was the push behind me being a good student, no a great student because I knew that just being good was not enough to get that recognition from my dad, I had to be the best!  If I was the best he would have to recognize me, right?  My dad's expectations created my work ethics, my education ethics, and the way I would lead my life.  The way I would raise my family.  The things that I would change when I became the dad!
I would love to sit here and tell you that because of his expectations and my inability to reach them that I became the model father.  That would be a lie larger than any he ever told.  I did become a father, on January 7, 1980, Cindy and I had our first son.  I let work stand between being a real dad and being a father to my new son.  I had become so mindset on being the best at what I did, still trying to get that recognition, that I began to become my dad.  I don't think I ever became abusive but I did not give my most valuable asset to my family, I held on to my time with the intent of being the best at my work, not being the best at being a father.  I did eventually begin to give some time to my family.  Cindy and I have two very fine sons.  I began to get involved with them and some activities.  I made it a point to go to their ball games, to go to their parent teacher conferences, to take an active part in their life.  Did I do it right?  Did I stop chasing the much needed perfection that I felt my dad wanted?  No, I just worked harder and made the schedule fit.  I can remember many times being home for a school function for my sons then to maintain my quest for what I thought was my life destination, I would drive all night to be at a business function.  I was still making my work my priority.
I had an awakening around 1990 or so.  I had a time in my life where I had to decide to support my family, in this case to stand up and defend my son, or to support my work and make the family second.  The decision I was about to make was going to cost me, it was either going to cost me the respect my son had for me or it was going to cost me my job, my JOB, the thing I had become a perfectionist at, the one thing I could do better than anyone else!
That is the only time in my life that I have been fired from a job.  I decided that the chain would be broken and I would work harder on my family.  The family may not have realized that I had decided in their favor at the time because to keep the bills paid I went over the road as a "truck driver".  I did not let this new career consume me, if anything it made me long to be home more with my wife and two sons.  I drove over the road until 1996, when I took a job that permitted me to be home.  Did I do it right from then on?  No, I just did my best and I realized that I no longer needed to hear my dad tell me that I did a good job, I just wanted to do a good job for my family.  the only people that I needed to prove anything to was my two sons and my wife, I realized what had become and should have been important all along.
Did my dad teach me?  Yes, my dad taught me that hard work is important, I learned when to make life important.  He taught me that being the best was the utmost goal to strive for, I learned to strive for being the best dad I could be.
I loved my dad, I wanted to make him proud, I wanted to make him happy.  I wanted him to be able to hold his head up and tell the world that I was his son!  I feel that I have done that.  I have two very fine young men that have both done very well with their lives.  I feel that they have learned far sooner than I did what is important, they know that the love and adoration seen in their spouses eyes and in the laughter of their kids that the family is the goal, work and recognition may happen along the way but when their spouse proudly says to the room "that is my husband" or the kids proudly tell the world "that is my dad" to me that is the highest praise any man could want.
I am going to end this with an analogy that may make sense to some and not to others.  Years ago Johnny Cash had a hit song titled " A Boy Named Sue".  In short a man had named his son Sue in an effort to make the boy grow up to be a man in the father's absence while the son thought it only an insult.  The boy became a fine man and one day met his father.  Find the song, understand that my dad taught me, maybe not the best way but he taught me to become my own man.

Ninety Three and living Free!

Let me introduce you to a phenomenal lady, My Grandma!  This is a picture of her on her ninety-third birthday.  She was a great lady and a fine influence on the life of this man.  She and my Grandpa stayed pretty much to themselves but they were known well in the community as good people that would lend a hand when  one was needed.  My grandma was a botanical genius and didn't even know it.  Floye could plant rocks and grow rainbows!  Her roses were the envy of all that ever had the opportunity to behold them.  Even at this age she displayed her green thumb.

The entry to Ma's home

  The family had a birthday party for her in June of 05.  Those that could assembled in the small town of Magnolia to celebrate this phenomenal event with her. There were relatives from all over the place gathered there, Texas, Tennessee, Mississippi, Missouri, Louisiana and I'm sure from places I didn't mention, all gathered to honor this great woman.  Ma's health was real good for her years.  She was still very active and lived on her own.  Generations gathered to celebrate this great occasion. 

Just a few of those in attendance

Ma was ready to party!  She had her hair done and was dressed in her Sunday meeting clothes.  She truly enjoyed seeing all her "chaps, grandchaps, great grandchaps and great, great grandchaps".  There may have been one more generation there, I'm not much on genealogy, anyways, there was a lot of people there and a lot of kids of all ages. 

Cindy and I had not been down to visit my southern family since September of 02 when we had stopped by there on our way to see Ben while he was stationed in Florida.  We were really into our motorcycle travels and this trip was one of those motorcycle trips.  We enjoyed traveling on the bike and taking the back roads to southern Mississippi seemed like the thing to do. 

With the numerous kids that were there it was inevitable that motorcycle rides would be in store for the ones old enough to ride.  Each took their turn on the Goldwing with me and each had a blast.  For most, it was the first time they had ever been on a motorcycle.

Now Ma had never been a fan of motorcycles, never wanted to be near one and most definitely never wanted to ride one!  I gave rides to the "chaps" and Ma watched.  Little did I know that in a few short minutes the entire family would be treated to the surprise of a lifetime.  One of my aunts came to me and said Ma wanted to go for a ride.  I thought I was being kidded, but the truth was she wanted to go for a ride.  Actually it started out that Ma had told one of my aunts that she wanted her picture made next to that "pretty" motorcycle.  My aunt, jokingly I'm sure, told her the only way she was getting a picture was if she got on the motorcycle.  My aunt said she didn't even hesitate and agreed immediately. 

With the aide of grandsons and great grandsons we soon had Ma seated comfortably on the back of that wing!  Now when Ma had her hair done, rule one was don't muss it up.  Ma was always attentive to her looks when she was out in public.  In the beginning I thought that this would be just a brief "ride" a few feet then she would have her picture and want to get off, after all, a real ride would muss her hair in the grandest way.  Well, ma said to me "Let's go for a ride."  I proceeded to go to the end of the driveway and turn around.  To my total surprise she said "no, I want to go for a real ride!"  Who was I to deny her this feeling of motorcycling freedom?  We took off for a real ride!  I was busy watching the road and making sure to ride safely but a glance in my mirrors showed me a woman having a grand time.  We headed down the highway with her waving her arms in the air and smiling, a smile that only someone that has ridden a motorcycle could display, one of those ear to ear, bug catching smiles!

Ready to go!

GONE!

The picture doesn't do justice to the smile on her face as we took off for her once in a lifetime ride.  I truly believe that she felt at ease and had the realization that this was being free, this was the reason people rode motorcycles, this was FUN!  It did not bother her that her hair had become mussed, the air and the road overpowered the thoughts of her hair and she just relaxed and had a good time!


  We went down the road for a few miles then turned and headed back to the festivities.  I could see that smile in my mirrors, a smile that will be in my memories for the duration of my life.  I knew motorcycling was fun, I knew the freedom the open air offered, I knew the smile that came upon my face every time I got on my bike, and now I knew that Ma had shared a bit of that feeling with me!

This is the only time I ever rode my bike without a helmet.  What I thought was going to be just a photo opportunity for my grandmother turned into a ride.  I rode very safely and did not take any chances with such a precious cargo.  I figured I would get my "explanation " in before someone got on the helmet bandwagon. 

The celebration went well into the day.  Ma talked about her ride and everyone had a great time. 

Being small town Mississippi, Ma got her picture in the local paper and had earned the nick-name "motorcycle Ma-Ma" amongst those that knew her and those that didn't.  She was recognized and people would address her as motorcycle Ma-Ma.  It was an event that she would remember the rest of her long life.

One of my aunts was telling me that same fall, Ma went to the hospital with a stroke.  She was not responding well to the treatments and things did not look well.  One of the nurses remembered the photo in the newspaper and brought it to put in her room.  The staff all started calling her motorcycle Ma-Ma and talking to her about that ride.  Maybe the ride did, maybe it didn't have an effect, but Ma got better and got out of the hospital.  Ma lived to see almost three more birthdays. 

In June of 06 I gave Ma a die cast replica of my Goldwing for her birthday.  Ma was a collector of nick-nacks, salt and pepper shakers, figurines, mostly delicate stuff.  Ma put that motorcycle right in the middle of her delicate stuff, there it sat as a reminder to her of that ride until the day she passed to be with Jesus.

The Road Trip of Labor Day, 2009, Or the last voyage of the Goldwing

For over twenty five years a motorcycle has been my means of escaping the troubles and downs of life.  The only thing that could give me relief or make me feel better than a good motorcycle ride was talking to God.  I have done a lot of both over the past, usually both at the same time.  When I was riding on my motorcycle I seemed to always "see"

God's Art Work as Seen From the Saddle

God's handiwork much more clearly and I was able to "hear" the things he had to say to me.  I could have a bad day at work and just before leaving I would call home and let Cindy know I was going to be late then I would hop on my motorcycle and just go.  Usually I had no real destination, I would just ride!  Sometimes I only needed to ride for a few miles, sometimes a few hours, and on occasion, a few days.  I purchased my 04 Goldwing on May 1, 2004 with zero miles on it.  On September 7, 2009, that motorcycle rolled over 100,000 miles, each one put on by me.  That is more miles on a motorcycle in sixty five months than most cars see in several years.  If you take into account that my normal work week was at least 55 hours, it is easy to determine where my relaxation and meditation time came in.  With that being said, let me tell you about the last days that motorcycle and I had together......


My Wife with her bike and me with my Wing

The year 2009 had not been a good year for us.  A very bad business partnership decision on my part had forced Cindy and I into a chapter 13 bankruptcy and to say that money was tight would be like saying the Pacific Ocean was just a drop of water.  I had not made very many trips on the motorcycle and I was getting real miserable.  We decided to scrape together some money and take the labor day weekend to go to Eureka Springs and just relax.  Cindy had become comfortable riding her bike for  rides of a few hours and I was definitely itching to do some riding in the Ozarks so we got our gear together and loaded the bikes.

The view from our room

We headed out to get some alone time and just relax.  Now you don't earn the nickname "Atlas" by taking the direct route anywhere so in order to ride at ease and really enjoy the beauty of nature we took the long way to Eureka, all back roads, no big roads.  We got to Eureka after several hours and found us a place to stay.  It was a nice little place with a small balcony out back that offered a view of nature.  God blessed us while we were sitting out there relaxing with the vision of a mother deer and her fawn at play.  

Mother Deer

We went out for Cindy's favorite dinner, Mexican then went back to our room for some rest.  When I go on a ride, especially in the Ozarks, that ride starts early and ends late.  Cindy elected to leave her motorcycle in Eureka and ride on the back seat of the wing.  She did this a lot on our rides because she got to relax more and it allowed her to photograph as we rode along. 

Sunday morning came and we were ready to go!  We had breakfast and headed out for the days ride.  We rode along at a very relaxed pace, not setting any land speed records, just cruising along admiring the scenery.  If we saw something that look like it needed more attention we would stop and take pictures and just enjoy.  I had planned out a very scenic and motorcycle friendly route for the day.  I got to cut my curves and we both got to see the splendor of the Ozarks.  One of the roads I had picked was Arkansas highway 103 out of Clarksville.  This highway had some great switch back curves and some of the most fantastic views of any road I have ever been on. 

My Wing on one of the hairpins on 103

We rode on and continued up the Pig Trail road where there is one of my all time favorite signs, "very crooked and steep ahead"  We had a blast, and for the time had no worries, no problems, just each other and the beauty around us. 

We got back to Eureka and settled in for the night, getting the rest we would need for the ride home Monday morning.

The combination of high humidity and heat made for a real muggy morning when we left out of Eureka.  We rode out of town and hit intermittent fog.  Eventually the fog got to be too much as we neared Eagle Rock, Missouri we decided, for safety's sake, to get off the road.  Cindy came over the radio and said she was going to turn off and she said, as she often did while we rode "I love you."  That is the last sound I heard for quite some time.  The next sounds were those of people asking me was I alright and did I know who I was and did I know where I was.  In the few milliseconds between the time she had unkeyed the mike and the impact, those were the words that echoed in my mind. 

We were on highway 86 heading home.  The highway had just been repaved and had no lines painted on it.  The fog had reduced visibility to just a few feet making travel very hazardous.  A young man in a hurry, in a black car with no headlights (according to the only witness) came up and over a crest in a left hand curve and hit me and my motorcycle head on.  I remember nothing of the impact.  I was told by the doctors that due to the magnitude of my injuries my body just shut down.  I firmly believe that the fact that I never ride without full safety gear and I never skimped on the quality of that gear is the reason that I did not die that day.  I have been told that God has a plan for me, that is why I am still here.  I believe that is why I had the sense to by and use good safety gear and God's plan, as always, worked.  I remember the people asking me questions and the silhouette of the state troopers hat.  Knowing that the trooper was there kind of eased my mind a bit, after all, they are the accident experts, right?  WRONG!!  I will elaborate on this in a later blog but I will interject that if you are ever in an accident in Missouri you had better hope someone takes some pictures because the Missouri Highway Patrol are only required to take pictures in the event of multiple fatalities or if there is a commercial vehicle involved.  I urge you to watch the investigative report done by Ryan Kath regarding the poor way the patrol handles serious injury accidents:   http://www.nbcactionnews.com/dpp/news/local_news/investigations/despite-digital-technology%2c-photos-often-not-taken-at-crash-scenes-with-serious-injuries

I was transported by ambulance to Cassville, Missouri and then airlifted to Cox Medical Center in Springfield, Missouri.  I don't really remember much of the ride.  My next encounter with true consciousness wasn't until Wednesday evening when I woke up in the ICU.  I had broken my right arm in numerous places ( the least of my injuries) and pretty much broken every bone in my right leg at least once, many of them more than once, including completely separating my femur and splitting it nearly its' entire length.  Cindy told me later that the surgeon had asked her if I had a history of smoking.  He said that had I had a history of smoking they would have not even tried to save my leg because it would have never healed.  I spent a week in the hospital. 

The bike held up very well for the amount of impact



This is the right side of the engine.  You can see where my foot broke the engine casing

This is a 2000 Nissan Altima after hitting a Honda Goldwing head on

My best friend went to the accident site on Thursday and took some pictures.  The car was still where it had landed.  He also went to the tow lot and took some pictures of my Wing.  No one in the hospital could believe, after seeing the pictures that I still had two legs, much less that I was still alive.

Well, this is the basics of the accident.  I have three metal rods in my right leg, several metal plates in my right leg, metal plates in my right arm, and yes, I do set off metal detectors when entering airports and Federal buildings.  Did this change the way I feel about riding, NO.  I still ride, I still ride safely.  I guess the reason I blogged this is so that people would know why I walk with a limp and to bring more awareness that motorcycles are everywhere so please watch for them! 

I know ten months is not a short while.....

I guess I left off in January with my adventures going to Sturgis and really haven't taken the opportunity to get back and finish the story. My most humble apologies for the long delay but, life happens.  My daughter has a really well written blog that follows my oldest son's family of 6 kids and his wife.  My wife and I moved in with his family in early April of this year and for the most part, Erin's blog pretty much tells the story from there.  It is very well written and I am posting the link to her blog so that anyone that wishes can follow it, I really hope that she doesn't mind because I feel that she does a great job of telling the Edwards' story.  (FYI, Erin married my son and I look at her as well as my other son's wife as daughters, not in laws)  Here is the link to her blog, then on with my rantings: http://erinthegreat1.blogspot.com/
On with the story! 
I finished my ride across Beartooth pass and was into Wyoming.  It was really strange, the Montana side of Beartooth was dramatically different than the Wyoming side.  The Montana side was picturesque and almost as though it had been carefully designed and laid out with nice long roads ending with a well designed switchback all encased with artful guardrails.  At the state line the scenery instantly changed.  Don't mis-interpret me, the scenery on both sides was gorgeous and the colors were a compliment to the creator, but the man made aesthetics were as different as night and day.  Upon crossing into Wyoming it was as though someone had taken the road and just strewn it about the picturesque landscape with the road taking on the resemblance of a string of spaghetti simply tossed onto the ground.  These pictures can show the contrast far better than my words could ever do it.

Beartooth Pass on the Montana side, almost manicured and artful

Beartooth on the Wyoming side, same road, just the other side of the mountain.





I rode on into Red Cloud, Wyoming where I stopped to fuel up the bike and just look around.  A common theme that was in this small town was the continued use of a sign that simply stated "rest rooms for customer use only".  Being the average, take things for granted person that I am, it was explained to me by the attendant at the fuel station why such a sign was a true necessity in this town at this time.  During bike week as well as the preceding and week after, the population of this area dramatically increases.  There are literally tens of thousands of people that converge on this small town with a sewer system that is only designed to accommodate a few thousand people on a regular basis.  Seems many of the passers through didn't understand that the food and drink (emphasize drink)consumed the previous day would be expelled the next, and this area was just not equipped to handle the waste.  Okay, enough for the sanitation lesson, but I thought it was interesting.
I departed Red Cloud and made my way to highway 14a.  If you take out your map of Wyoming and look at the northern part you will see an east west highway 14 and 14a.  If you ever plan to travel this part of the country here is an informational tid bit for you.  If you just want to get from one side of the state to the other, take highway 14.  If you, like me, want to take the most scenic and informative route, take 14a.  This highway is a nice and windy road that traverses the state.  the road has numerous rock formations and many have educational signs that tell the age of the formations and other various geological facts about them.  It is a great road to drive if you are into formations and geology.  I took in the awesome beauty of the area and made my way east to the destination for the night, Sheridan, Wyoming, where I set up my tent and just relaxed.
Remember, I left Kansas City on Saturday morning.  I awoke in Sheridan Wyoming on Thursday morning.  This would be my last day on the road by myself.  There really wasn't much to see or do between Sheridan and Sturgis and I was due to meet up with several friends of mine in Rapid City this afternoon, so I hopped on the interstate and made my way to Rapid City, South Dakota. 
I arrived at the South Dakota School of Mines and Technology mid afternoon, ahead of the friends I was to meet up with, and got checked in.  If you are ever planning on going to Sturgis during bike week, I highly recommend that you look into the accommodations this school offers.  I stayed in the dorm area.  Our group opted for the 4 person dorm.  There was a shared restroom and four bunks.  Not really roughing it but very affordable.  If memory serves, it was about $40 per person per night, compared to the Super 8 at well over $150 per night, if you could even get a room.  The school had buckets at the doorway with towels to clean your bikes with and they were very helpful and friendly.  Another thing about bike week in this area is the emphasis on BIKE.  The downtown area of Rapid City had huge areas of prime parking reserved for bikes only.  In Sturgis, the main street was all bikes, no cages allowed.

The South Dakota School of Mines and Technology, Rapid City, SD

My accommodations

Main Street, Sturgis, SD

My friends arrived in Rapid a short time later and got all checked in.  Seems that they, unlike lucky me, had encountered a bit of rain on the way up from Kansas.  I had made the trip with very little negative impact from the weather whereas they had encountered a harsh thunderstorm coming across Nebraska, one of those that comes up without enough warning to get the rain gear out then really pummults anyone that is out in the path.  We gathered and rode on into Sturgis.  For many of us this was the first time we had ever been to bike week.  We rode into town, not really knowing what to expect.  There were motorcycles and motorcyclists everywhere!  There were motorcycles that I had seen on TV, motorcycles that exhibited a lot of artists' hard work and some that exhibited the kid in all of us.

The Dixie Chopper built on American Chopper

A hemi powered hotwheel for the kid in all of us!

The V10 Viper Bike

We hung around Sturgis for a bit then decided to find some place to eat.  We ended up back in Rapid City, had some food then all decided to get some rest.  Friday would be a day of riding the area and spending some more time in Sturgis.
We went back into Sturgis Friday morning and took in some more of the sights.  For those not really familiar with the Sturgis/bike week phenomenon, here is just a bit of info for you.  The small town of Sturgis, regular population I'm guessing to be less than 7000, grows to a community of tens of thousands for Bike Week.  We were told that the majority of the shops and business located on main street were owned by big companies and were closed and vacant most of the year, with the weeks surrounding bike week being the only time they were occupied. 
We left Sturgis and took in some of the riding the area roads had to offer.  We went to Mount Rushmore, rode on Needles Highway and took in the Wildlife Highway.  One thing for sure, there is no shortage of good riding in this part of the country, the down side is that there are so many bikes out, some with impaired riders, that true enjoyment of the roads in this area would have to be done sometime other than bike week.  Saturday we did some more riding in the area, ending up back in Sturgis one last time.  By Saturday afternoon, most of the traveling exhibits were gone so there wasn't much to see.  Oh well, back to Rapid to get some rest for the early departure Sunday morning.
We got up early Sunday morning and left Rapid City as a group.  Needless to say that due to the diverse riding styles, we did not stay a group for long.  By the time we got to Chamberlain, SD, our "group" was now three.  The three of us rode the 720 plus miles to Kansas City only stopping for fuel.  Speaking for myself, it had been a great week of riding and scenery but it was time to get home to the first love of my life, my wife, and give bike a rest for a few hours. 

One good looking mug in front of four not near as handsome

A stop on Needles Highway.

The Crazy Horse Monument under construction

This is just one of the "needles" along needles highway

So, yes, I have been to Sturgis but I must say that the highlight of the trip was THE TRIP, Sturgis was just a destination along the way.
I invite you to check back and I promise not to go ten months between post.  Watch for more of my travels and the excitement that life has to offer!  Be safe and may God Bless

Have You Ever Been to Sturgis????



Main Street Sturgis



Seems like this is the first question people, riders and non-riders, ask as soon as it is known that you ride a motorcycle.  Seems that the name "Sturgis and Harley-Davidson" are instilled in the minds of anyone that has ever seen a motorcycle.  They are both American icons and have a deep American history.  Being a motorcyclist I can say "yes, I have been to Sturgis but no I do not ride a Harley."  The type or brand of bike a person rides is of no matter to me.  A rider is a rider, no matter the brand name.  This is the story of my trip to Sturgis, along with a few pictures.  I hope you enjoy reading this because I surely had a blast living it!

It was the beginning of Bike Week, 2006.  I met up with a friend at 110th and I-70 at 0730 to begin the trek out west.  My son had made arrangements for lodging in Rapid City, South Dakota beginning Thursday and gave it to me for father's day.  I took a weeks vacation and was going to do some serious riding in the mountains of Colorado, Utah, Wyoming, Montana and South Dakota.  One of my riding friends had done some riding out west before and was willing to ride out with me and show me some of the roads out there.  We met up at 0730 on Saturday morning on I-70.  It was a little dreary with some mist in the warm air but my heart saw nothing but sunshine and pure riding pleasure ahead.  This would be a great experience for me.  It was to be the first full week vacation spent on my motorcycle.  I had my tent and air mattress and had emptied out the piggy bank intent on having the best time I could while enjoying the great mountain scenery.  We ventured out across I-70 to exit 225.  There we exited the big road and hit the two lanes.  This would be our last encounter with a big road til Wednesday morning.The ride west across Kansas was good but after all it was Kansas and aside from the feed lots and open lands, there just wasn't a lot to see.  We ventured on towards our destination for the night, Walsenburg, Colorado.  It turned into an official motorcycle ride not far from our destination by having the clouds open up and dump a fresh rain on us.  This still did not cloud my heart, after all, by now I had learned that a good rain suit was invaluable and it came in very handy on this run.We arrived at Walsenburg and made our way to a great state park.

With out tents pitched and bodies fresh showered we ventured into town for the evening meal.  The local Pizza Hut served us well delivering a fine Italian cuisine.  Our bellies full and our spirits high we headed back to our campsite to get some sleep for tomorrow the riding began!  The fresh, rain washed air made it easy to fall asleep and the fact that we had been riding all day didn't have a negative effect either.  Sunday morning we awoke to a clear sky and made our way back into town for a light breakfast then out on the road.  We headed west on 160 and began our scenic and fun filled ride.  Highway 160 is a good road and I was having a blast, then we turned onto 149 and ventured into the Black River Canyon.  This was a fantastic ride.  We stopped several times along this route and took pictures and just took in the sights.  We even saw a hawk hunting and then taking it's prey back to its nest.



Black River Canyon



The river was far below and it seemed as though we just kept climbing.  Now I had been been out west before but the only sights I got to see were from the seat of a Freightliner on the interstate, that was nice but this was GLORIOUS!!.  Great riding, great weather and great scenery, This would be a vacation I would never forget.  We made our way through Black River Canyon, on into Gunnison and on down to Ouray, where we set up our tents for the night.  Ouray is a very bike friendly town and we had a fine meal there that evening.  Our campsite was very quiet and the view was phenomenal.



The view from my tent, Ouray, Colorado



  Our adventure on Monday would take us across the Million Dollar Highway, on into Durango and Silverton Colorado.  Must be something about the fresh mountain air because sleep was easy and waking even easier!  Monday morning we got up and began our day.  The first thing we could see when we opened our tents was this huge rock.

  It was a very majestic rock, but only a preface of the things we would see that day.  We loaded our bikes and headed out.  The ride that day took us past some old iron mining camps and some great mountain scenes.  We rode next to clear mountain streams and through cool mountain forests.  We rode into Silverton, Colorado. 



Silverton, Colorado



 Silverton is a rustic town that looks like it was in many western movies.  With the exception of the cars on the street this town looked like a place to ride into, hitch up your horse and go into the saloon for something cold to drink.  Back on the road we went on into Durango.  We stopped to eat at a fast food restaurant that was at the boarding station for the Durango-Silverton railroad. 

 This is an old steam locomotive that runs into the mountains from Durango to the little town of Silverton.  Someday I will go back out there and ride that train but it just wasn't in the plans this trip. We trekked onward eventually heading north and into more beautiful mountain terrain.  We rode through Telluride, past Lake City into Grand Junction on up to Rangely and into Dinosaur, Colorado.  From Dinosaur we ventured on into Utah to the town of Vernal where we set up our tents for the night.Tuesday morning we headed north out of Utah into Wyoming.  We found some fantastic roads as we entered Wyoming.  Steep hills with slow winding curves.  This seemed to be the venue for this area.  I was more used to the quick and sharp curves of the Smoky Mountains but fell in love with the nice sweepers out here.  Today would be the last day I would have a riding companion.  I had plans to go into Montana and my friend was heading into Yellowstone.  We got to Jackson Wyoming and went into an information center.

  I had considered going to Yellowstone with my friend but changed my mind when I went into the information center.  To understand this next part you have to know a little about me.  I am kind of stubborn and have this thing about paying for something twice.  Even in the years I drove a truck over the road I would not take the turnpike simply because I felt it was a federal highway paid for with federal tax money and I just could not justify paying to drive on a road that, in my mind I had already paid for.  The same principle came into play here.  We went inside and while looking around I saw a sign that read "Motorcycles $12.50".  I inquired as to what the twelve fifty was for, since there was a federal highway that I intended to ride in and a federal highway I was going  to ride out on so why did I have to pay for them twice.  I was simply told that if I wanted to go to Yellowstone I would have to pay.  My friend even offered to pay but like I said, to me it was a matter of principle.  We parted there in Jackson.  He went on to Yellowstone, I headed west across Levita Pass in Idaho and headed north.  My venture into Idaho allowed me to stumble across a place that had a lot of old aircraft.  it was out in the middle of nowhere and I have no idea what it was or why it was there but sometime the most interesting things are simply stumbled upon while just riding. 



Airplanes in the middle of nowhere



 I rode on into West Yellowstone, Montana where I decided to set up my tent.I found a great campground with grass as soft and green as any golf course.



My bike and living quarters, West Yellowstone, MT



  The people were very friendly and since I still had lots of daylight I decided to clean my bike then go and have a good sit down steak dinner and maybe even a beer or two.  I went back to my campsite (just for the record, I walked to the steak house where I did have a few beers then I walked back to the campsite, I would never ride after drinking even 1 beer).  I got up Wednesday morning refreshed and ready to ride.  Today I was going to head on north into Montana, hit the Chief Joseph Highway, Beartooth Pass and then ride across northern Wyoming on highway 14a to Sheridan, where I would stay the night.  I thought that as long as I was this close to Yellowstone Park I would see if they were really going to charge me to enter on a federal highway.  I rode to the entrance and approached the gate.  I asked the ranger if they were really going to charge me to ride on this highway and, as I figured, I was told if I went into the park I would have to pay.  I asked the ranger if I could ride past the dividers and make a u-turn and leave.  I was given permission to do so.  I can say that I have been  into Yellowstone.



I can say I have been to Yellowstone!



 I didn't stay but I have been there.  My ride on up to I-90 was fairly uneventful but I knew that the roads I was headed for would be worth the effort.  I was not wrong!  Chief Joseph proved to be both beautiful as well as challenging.  Now I went on to Beartooth Pass.  Beartooth had just recently been re-opened after a massive rock slide had it blocked for a while.  Remember, this is August and the temperatures had been mostly upper 80's and then some.  I approached the Montana side of Beartooth with eager anticipation.  I had seen pictures and heard about this road so say that I was a little intimidated would be a falsehood.  I was a lot intimidated! 

 This has gotten a bit long so in the interest of time, I will finish this one later.  If you want to follow the rest of this ride, check back in a week or so.  God Bless, Frank