Heading to Kansas City

I'm reminded of that old country song, "I'm Looking at the World Through a Windshield"

We loaded up and proceeded to head  north.  Now I have driven all across the United States with a road atlas and have never been a big fan of GPS and our trip back home would further my reasoning for paper over electronic.  My brother gave us good directions out of Texas and the traveling was going really quite smoothly.  We got to Shreveport and I gave in and took the advice of the GPS.  Well, it got us where we needed to go but sent us several miles out of the way to do so.  Nothing beats a good road atlas and some real study time so from now on I'll be utilizing my old practices.
We had decided to take some two lane roads and head up into Arkansas.  We had left Houston late in the afternoon and soon after we crossed into Arkansas, we stopped at a rest area and decided to have something to eat.  We chowed down like we were at a 5 star restraint, thanks to Nancy.  She had prepared several great sandwiches and some other good foods to satisfy our hunger.  Having finished eating we proceeded to head towards Kansas City.
We reached the half way point around 1100 pm or so and I was beginning to get tired.  The combination of a moonless night and the winding roads of the Ozarks prompted me to pull into a Wal Mart parking lot in Mena, Arkansas and take advantage of the courtesy that many Wal Marts offer to RV'ers and trucks, park over night and get some rest.
I was really liking traveling like this.  I had covered many miles on my bike but to just pull into a parking lot and climb into a nice, comfy bed was not something you had the pleasure of doing on two wheels.  This was indeed a very spoiling event.  I could see this developing into a real fun thing to do.
The morning came and we all awoke feeling very rested and mom was getting anxious to see her grand kids and great grand kids so we set out to make our home destination.  The beautiful day afforded my wife many opportunities to take some pictures as we drove north through the majestic Ozark mountains.

Just some shots of the Ozark drive
 

We made our way through the Bobby Hopper Tunnel along I 49. 

This drive brought back memories of the time I had driven from LeMars, Iowa to Clarksville, Arkansas hauling ice cream to the Wal Mart distribution center.  Back then ( I guess it has been a long time ago) there was no freeway.  The trip required driving on highway 71 and following its winding, mountain hugging trek.  Man I miss those times, but now with this new found freedom, I'm looking forward to reliving some of those great roads, including some of the prettiest and most crooked road roads around, the back highways of Pennsylvania, West Virginia and all throughout the Appalachian Mountains.


The Light at the end of the Bobby Hopper Tunnel

 

We arrived in Kansas City and let mom and Ruth get settled in while I detached Matilda from Brutus.  The next several days would be spent with family visits and great grandma becoming familiar and well acquainted with all her Kansas City family.  Thinking back on this entire adventure, I have come to conclude that none of this would have happened had I not stepped out of my comfort zone and made that bid.  Sometimes, in life, we have to take that chance.  Maybe you will fall, I know I have many times, but maybe, just maybe, that step will be the first in making some of your dreams become real!
(Just a teaser for the next blog and where this step has taken Cindy and I, stay tuned)

Until The Next Trip, keep looking up!
 



The Maiden Voyage Of Brutus and Matilda

Well, I made it home safely and with no mechanical issues with my prize.  I proceeded to take it straight to the shop to evaluate the safety and dependability of this newfound treasure.  I went through the entire thing, checked all the bearings, re-packed them, replaced the seals, checked all the appliances, checked the plumbing, and really went so thoroughly through the fifth wheel that I would have made a quality control inspector at the factory proud.  Now, for the next step, let's go somewhere!
I should probably begin with an explanation of the title.  My daughter insists on naming all their vehicles, and she insists on naming mine as well, so, after thinking a bit on the subject, it sounds much better to write about "Brutus" and "Matilda" than writing about the F350 and the trailer so from this point forward these two will join the ranks of "Bessie, Annie and Cici" and be known, at least in writings, as Brutus and Matilda.

Meet Brutus (02 F350 Ford Dually Diesel) and Matilda (1998 Damon Magnum fifth wheel)

My mom had loaned me some money to buy this piece of adventure so it was only fitting that the first venture out involve her and my sister.  I decided to go to Tennessee and pick them up then head south to let my mom visit her sister in southern Mississippi then we would trek westward to visit my brother and his fantastic family.  Now I had already set up a visit with my brother so he knew that Cindy and I were coming, he didn't know I was bringing Mom to surprise him.
Monday, October 21 came around and we set out to make this fantastic trip and visit with some excellent relatives.  I got the rig all hooked up, checked and double checked, we climbed up into the truck and headed out. 
We made it all the way to the interstate, a whole 4 miles before our first unforeseen obstacle made itself known.  I had gone through the truck since purchasing it and had repaired or replaced anything that I thought would cause trouble.  I had driven it to New York and back with no issues so I was sure that we would not have anything cause us stress on this trip.  The truck had been running just great, or it felt great to me, until now.  We made our entry to the interstate and no matter how much I pressed the accelerator, we just didn't gain any speed.  I knew what was wrong and had really hoped that it wasn't but deep down I knew that the high pressure oil pump had decided to retire!  This was not an expense that I was prepared for, the part alone was over $800.  Oh well, I limped the truck to the shop where I proceeded to replace the HPOP.
Now those of you that know Cindy are aware that she will not let me give up, especially when it is something that means a lot to me so when I finally finished working on the truck and got home announcing that we were just not going to make this trip, having just spent the money I had set aside for fuel. I was informed, no I was ordered, that we were going!  So guess what, I got in the truck as ordered.
I headed back to the interstate and as I accelerated to highway speed, I realized that my truck, even though I thought it ran good, now was running superb!  We headed on down the road and started having fun. 
Now Cindy had not yet slept in the RV and since we got a late start (more like 10 pm than 10 am), we found ourselves stopping at a truck stop just south of St. Louis around 2 in the morning and deciding to call it a day.  I backed into a spot, opened up Matilda, walked the dog and we both settled in for a restful night.
I don't know if it was excitement or just the internal yearning to be on the road but I was up with the sun and ready to go.  Amazingly, Cindy woke up early as well so we loaded up the truck and proceeded to head south.  We pulled into Mom's place and with the few hours sleep I was feeling a bit tired but given the time of day I had to make a decision, load and leave right away so I would miss rush hour in Memphis or leave out the next morning for south Mississippi.  It became evident right away that Mom was ready to go, NOW, so we loaded up and headed west.
I drove through and got to the south side of Memphis, just across the Mississippi line and pulled into a rest area where we made ourselves comfortable at a picnic table and had a real good meal, courtesy of the ability to carry fresh and cold food in Matilda.
Finishing our fantastic meal we loaded again and headed for my aunt's place in south Mississippi.  We got there right around 10 pm and just as we pulled into the drive, we saw all the lights inside the house go out.  Mom went to the door and knocked and knocked but no one answered.  Later we found out  that my aunt didn't make a habit of answering the door after ten because living so close to the interstate she had been honored with some really strange visitors.  She finally looked out and was joyfully surprised to see us on her doorstep.  Well, Mom and Ruth, my youngest sister, went inside and Cindy and I just climbed into the RV and had a very pleasant nights sleep.
When I woke up the next morning my aunt told me just to set up in the front yard and make ourselves at home.  This would be the very first time since purchasing Matilda that I would set it up and actually camp in it.  I got it all positioned under a nice, big shade tree and we had found our home for the week.



Brutus and Matilda at their home for a week
 

Cindy and I stayed in Matilda and Mom and Ruth stayed in with my aunt.  We had our own schedule and really had a super time visiting and staying in our own little palace.  Mornings would find us sitting on the infamous front porch, taking part in joyful conversation or sometimes just watching the humming birds come and feed.  There was one humming bird that seemed to be in charge, or so he felt.  The others would have to create a diversion in order for some to get to the nector  and feed.

One of the many regular visitors
 

 We enjoyed the stay and Cindy especially enjoyed playing dominos with all the other aunts on Thursday night, whereas I enjoyed the peace and quiet that was available away from all the ladies, thanks to Matilda!  The week was fairly uneventful, which is, of course, one of the purposes for camping and RVing, right?  We did make a visit to a local grocery store to pick up some real special and sold only locally sausage to take to my brother.  I thought it was rather expensive but after he cooked it up for us at his place, I determined it was well worth the money.

Saturday morning came and it was time to bid farewell to my aunt and head west to visit my brother and his family.  The road was calling!  We all climbed into the comfort that Brutus offered and headed out.  Our journey today would take us a short ways down I55 to westbound I10.  The highlight of I10 would have to be the bridge that takes you across the swamps and lowlands of the Atchafalaya National Wildlife Refuge.  This bridge is so long that there are emergency crossovers to allow for traffic to flow in the event of an accident or other situation along the way and it had pull outs in the event of breakdowns.  The swampland and wildlife were simply majestic to look at!



Some pictures Cindy shot while crossing the Refuge
 

 Other than the refuge, this stretch was fairly uneventful so we just kept motoring onward.  Just for informational purposes, any and all photos are taken by my wife or other passengers, I do not advocate or practice distracted driving, I know all too well the effects of such.
We got to my brothers house later that night and he had already sent me the information as to how to make ourselves at home once we got there.  We backed into the drive and plugged in.  He has a couple places around his house that are set up for RV's so it was like pulling into a campground.  Now he knew Cindy and I were coming but had no idea that Mom and Ruth were coming.  We had kept it a surprise and this would be the first time mom had been able to visit him at his house so we thought it would be a good surprise.  He works nights so Mom and Ruth had already gotten settled in the spare bed room so his first indication was when he woke up in the late morning to see Ruth sitting on the couch.  We did indeed surprise him! 


The family getting ready to head out

 We had a fantastic time visiting.  We went to a real good Tex-Mex restaurant one night and spent a day at a really nice RV resort on the river, grilling shrimp and just having a blast as a family.


Mom and Ruth

 

 

We finished up our week in Texas and then it was time to head to Kansas City to let Mom visit with some grandkids and some great grandkids.  This, too would be the first time for her to see some of the great grandkids so in all fairness, that segment of this fantastic venture will be in another posting. 
It has become very evident that this type of traveling is going to be quite appealing to both Cindy and me.  Losing our ability to see the country by motorcycling has been replaced.  We enjoyed those times but in light of the comfort and pleasure we have found in RVing, I have to admit, it sure is nice to travel in the rain and not get wet.
Thanks for reading and please comment below maybe even follow us on our adventures.  I promise that since I can transport a computer now without having to be concerned about it getting wet, postings will be more timely and more in quantity.
Frank



Sometimes Changes are Good!

I haven't written anything for a very long time, maybe because I didn't feel I had anything worthwhile to write about.  My writings up to this point have been primarily about riding and seeing the country from atop my motorcycle.  Since my accident I just never could find a satisfactory replacement machine that was as comfortable as my wing and I was beginning to feel that the part of me that yearned to travel, to see different things, to wake up someplace new was dead.  Well, I'm happy to report that none of me has succumbed to the bliss of non existence, I have discovered  a new portal to get back into traveling and seeing the nation and getting out there and really living again!

I'm going to back up to July, 2015 and tell my story.  Cindy and I have been able to maintain a good life and have been able to be happy with our meager incomes and had pretty much accepted that living in our rental home and being close to our grandkids was going to be our life from now on.  I had accepted that my  traveling days were pretty much over.  We didn't have the money to buy a trike and if we did get one, we couldn't afford to travel and with her physical pains, any type of distance travel on anything less than four wheels would not be a pleasurable experience for her, thereby not being a pleasurable experience for me.  

I was perusing Ebay one night, just dreaming more than anything, about getting a decent camper so we could at least get away once in a while.  Until just a month prior, June of 2015, we didn't have anything to even pull a camper with but I managed to purchase a used 2002 F350 Ford Dually and had hopes of maybe someday being able to travel again.  I was looking at fifth wheel units and dreaming, placing a bid here and there to satisfy my mind that I was at least trying.  I knew that I would not be the winning bidder on any of these units because the funds I had available were not near enough to buy a decent fifth wheel, but it at least kept me involved and hopeful.

This particular evening I got brave and placed a bid on a very nice fifth wheel camper that had no reserve.  I figured that it would go far beyond my maximum bid but at least I tried.  With each passing night I would check  the status of my bid and to my amazement, no one else was bidding!  The auction was entering it's final hours and the inevitable happened, I got outbid.  Without consulting Cindy, or knowing where the extra money would come from I took a chance and raised my meager bid as much as I dared, sure that I would not have to come up with the extra money anyway because, let's face it, there was no way a unit as nice as this was going for the ridiculous amount of $3800.  This was a unit that was worth, according to fair market, at least 8 grand and that would be cheap.  
I entered my final bid and went to bed, at least I was trying and that seemed to satisfy my heart's urge to once again travel.  
The morning sun began to shine through our back window and the day was forming to be a very nice day, a day to go do something around the yard or maybe fix a kid's go cart or something to just stay busy and by staying busy, maintain my sanity.  I checked my emails and about fell on the floor when I read the email from Ebay.  "you are the high bidder".  Just to clue you in on how sure I was that I would never win a unit for that price, I had not even looked to see where the unit was located.  When I discovered that I would have to go to Albany, New York to get my winning, I knew that this was definitely going to be the beginning of a new era of traveling for us!  You see, motorcycling was the last thing that Cindy and I had done together that we had truly enjoyed  up until this miracle.  During the time we had lived in a 28 foot fifth wheel before we got our rental house we had often talked about how much fun it would be to travel with one.  Talk was all we could do, we didn't even have anything to pull one with.  We never gave up our dream of someday being able to travel the country again, we just had no clue how we would ever be able to do it.
Wow, now I was obligated to travel 1800 miles one way to pick up a camper that I had only seen pictures of and had only been told that it was road ready.  I contacted the seller, a very nice gentleman, that told me over the phone that the unit was everything he had stated in the ad and he understood the reluctance I had to drive that far, spend that much in diesel fuel and not really know what I was getting into so he did something very unusual for a no reserve seller, he told me that if I got there and it was not what he said it was he would release me from the contract AND pay for my fuel to get there and back home.  This truly was a miracle that was meant to be!
I rounded up the money for the purchase, some of it was borrowed from my mom, and made arrangements with the seller to pick up the unit on Monday at 8 am.  I was as excited as an expectant father!  The auction had ended on a Wednesday and I wasn't going to get my unit until Monday!  I had a real hard time sleeping the next few nights.  This was it, our opportunity to start a new part of our lives, to travel again and do something that we both enjoyed, again!  I originally had planned on leaving early Saturday morning and heading out to Albany.  Well, Friday night came along and I just could not sleep so about 10 pm or so I told Cindy I just had to get going and she, as usual, understood.
I drove all night and crossed the Indiana state line and was finally calming enough to stop in a rest area sleep, for about 3 hours, then  I had to get going again.  I was high on adrenaline and drove all the way to the last service plaza on the New York Thruway before Albany.  I pulled in and climbed into the back seat of my truck and went to sleep for the first real rest since leaving Kansas City, except for  my 3 hours in Indiana.
I remember  the brightness of the sun as it peaked through the windows of my truck parked there in that service plaza in the beautiful mountains of upstate New York on that Monday morning.  I had set out in a truck with over 300 thousand miles on it headed halfway across the country to pickup a trailer that I had only seen pictures of, hoping that it would be the new deliverance that Cindy and I so longed for.

I drove on into Albany and the heavy rush hour traffic didn't even bother me for I was on a mission!  I arrived at the location and the seller had not yet arrived.  I went over to the unit and proceeded to look it over.  It WAS everything it had been represented to be and more!  Here was this 1998 Damon Magnum 30 foot fifth wheel camper that was ours!  It was clean, straight, and very nice, inside and out.  The seller showed up and we finalized our business.  Just as I was getting ready to head back to Kansas City, he stopped me and added yet another surprise.  He asked that I wait a few minutes so that he could go and get a new battery for the camper because the ad had stated that it would come with a new one!  Could you ask for a more honest seller?  
I obliged and was really getting anxious to get on the road.  He promptly returned with a new battery and we said our goodbyes.  I was really impressed a couple hours later when my phone rang and it was the seller asking if the trailer was pulling OK and sincerely concerned how I was doing.  That is an extreme rarity and to me, another indication that this was all supposed to be for us.

I motored on across the thruway, praising God for the miracle that had been bestowed on us and dreaming of the outings that Cindy and I would be making in this RV.  I drove until I got to northern Ohio and the excitement and tiredness of the entire event finally hit me so I pulled into a truck stop and proceeded to climb into my camper and went into a very relaxed and peaceful sleep, dreaming of the adventures to come!
We have already made a 2400 mile trip with our RV and I will be posting more on that trip soon.  One thing about traveling with in a RV, time  to write and the comfortable surroundings in which to write will abound!

" 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.