Looking for barn quilts and cousins

I was at Chipp’s Harley-Davidson early for my service, and they were already open and ready for me.  Yahoo. 

As I wandered around the shop my eye caught a book titled, “Gravel Dust.”  It’s not a big book, or a long book at only 55 pages long, but it’s big in content.  Larry, the author, works at the shop and we chatted a bit.  The book was his way of trying to release some demons, including a sister’s death at a young age and drug addiction.  I bought a copy that he signed for me.  It’s something I’ll read, and I told him that I’d pass it on to friends in hopes that they’d read it and pass it on as well. 

Larry, the book and me.  What a great guy he is.  I'm so happy for him that he turned his life around and is trying to help others get to that special place, too.

By noon-thirty I was finished talking with everyone and back on the road with a clean motorcycle.  Larry had detailed my bike so she looked nearly new, with the exception of a few paint chips. 

It was time to get serious about getting north as I needed to be to the hotel/casino where I was staying on Friday.  I wanted to arrive about noon so I had plenty of time to get the lay of the land. But I was also still hoping to find some barn quilts.  I'd not yet been successful in that endeavor.

There's lots to take photos of, though.  I found this interesting as I like old, dilapidated buildings.

 Of course, things didn’t happen like that, exactly.  I got lost … somewhere in Iowa, in the middle of farmland, no landmarks, no cell service.  How did that happen?  I’d been traveling on Highway 65 north.  Somehow I got off of it, probably looking around at barns trying to find some of those barn quilts.  And then I was 21 miles up Highway 330, wondering how I’d gotten there.  In some small town I was trying to find a way north and west without backtracking, and some guy who was missing a leg (He told me to watch out for mini-vans as that was how he’d lost his leg.) gave me directions. 

I guess you could say I know where I am ... but where is this in the big picture?

I was good … except, as usual, I went the wrong way.  (I’m so glad that Wrong Way road name is already taken.)  I ended up in Hampton, Iowa, after wandering around out in the middle of the farmland.  But, I guess there was a reason as I found some of those barn quilts so I had my photos. 

This was the first one I could get a half-decent photo of, and it's colorful.  I've learned that barn quilts are large pieces of would painted to look like quilt squares.  They are usually painted on 8-foot-square boards, although sizes do vary, and they are mounted on a barn or other building. Cloth quilts are made of multiple squares while barn quilts are normally just one square.  Most barn quilts are made of simple geometric shapes like squares, rectangles and triangles and solid colors that makes them easier to create and to see from a distance.  However,  there are custom ones painted as they reflect a certain meaning such as honoring a loved one, or because of a name.  Corn and beans are popular ones. 

Some of them are quite beautiful with lots of color.  I was fascinated with these barn quilts now as I'd seen a few, and they were absolutely gorgeous.



The earliest versions of barn quilts have been around for hundreds of years.  Barns were not painted in earlier years but were decorated with folk art, including the quilt blocks once paint was readily available and affordable.  In the 2000s barn quilts started showing up again.  The first quilt trail started in Ohio, which is a trail of quilts that are mapped together and can be visited. 

This isn't my best shot, but helps to represent what the barn quilts look like.  The American Quilt Trail is a collection of hundreds of quilts, and I think it would be fun to follow it for a bit to see these beautiful pieces of art.   But, that would be another trip, I hope.

 I finally found my way back to Highway 65, but my engine light came on briefly, twice.  Crap.  It’s always something.  I tried to call the Harley shop in the next town, Mason City, but I had no cell service.  They most likely closed at 6 p.m. and it was 5:38.  I raced toward Mason City knowing I had 25 miles probably to go. 

When I arrived at Mason City HD, it was closed.  I rode around the building to find out what time they opened, but couldn’t read the signs.  I noticed a vehicle behind me, watching or so it seemed.  I’d pulled up next to the building and the vehicle pulled in in front of me.  He asked if I was okay.  I explained my problem.  He’s a mechanic there and was just leaving.  He showed me the code lights and then got a book to check it out and the owner came out.  They both checked and said I had power, volts and so on, and it appeared to be a malfunction of a sensor.  They reset the light and I was on my way.  It has not come on since then and I’ve gone a few hundred miles or better. 

And sometimes you just get the best shot for, a tractor dieseling up at the local gas station.  I guess they use diesel.  I really don't know.  These gents were kind enough to pose for me when I told them I'd be putting this photo in my travel blog.

I made it to Minnesota, Albert Lea, and was figuring I’d like to go further since I still had some daylight, but didn’t want to tackle Minneapolis-St. Paul and the surrounding areas.  I thought I’d go to the west and then cut north.  But, again, someone watches over me.  I spoke to a rider in Albert Lea and he said if I traveled I-494/94 through the cities it would save me a lot of time and at that time of the day, after 7 p.m., the traffic would be a breeze.  He said running 80 mph he made it through in an hour and 15.  I said I don’t run that fast or like riding in the dark, but he assured me I’d get through it by dark even not riding 80 mph.

Off I went, running my usual 65-70 mph.  The road was well marked and I ran easily through the city.  By the time I popped out a bit to the west side of Minneapolis, it was getting close to dark and I wanted to get off the road.  Of course, now I couldn’t find a hotel.  Then I saw it, a California Inn and Suites.  I found my way to the parking lot and it looked a bit more upscale than I did.  Oh well.  In I went and they had a room on the ground floor.  I was off the road just as the sun set, and I was glad for that.  Plus, now I was only about a hundred miles, give or take a few, from my destination.  Yahoo!!!

On Friday, August 1, I needed to make my way north to near Garrison, Minnesota, (Highway 169) to find the Bogan clan.  I was getting excited as I knew there were 100 coming, cousins and families.  I also knew I’d never remember any names except for some that I’d met at a previous reunion I’d been to some 30 years plus ago. 

I dilly-dallied around and didn’t get on the road until 9:40 a.m.  That’s not normal for me, but I find that on this trip, 9, 9:30, it doesn’t matter.  Maybe I’m enjoying it and relaxing more.  I don’t know.  Or maybe I was dreading getting back out onto the Interstate, or meeting my cousins, or who knows what??

At the front desk I asked to be sure I knew how to get back to the Interstate.  I found out I was only 7 exits from where I needed to be to head north toward St. Cloud, Minnesota, which would then get me to Highway 169 and heading toward my final destination for a few days.  The gal said to turn right.  In looking at the road signs I thought I needed to go left, but followed her directions.  This time it was not my fault for going the wrong way.  I should have paid attention to my instincts on this one, but so often they’re wrong.  A couple miles down to the next exit to turn around and I was back on track, running three and four lanes one-way of Interstate and keeping up with the best, or the worst, of them.

From there on, it was easy riding, until I stopped for gas.  Now I had oil on my bike.  Good grief.  Another Harley shop was in my sights for the day.  I was hoping it was an easy answer, like overflow out of the breather, but for me, it often is not. 

I stopped at Elk River Harley (Zylstra) and the guy there said the oil had been overfilled, they couldn’t pull any of it out, but I’d be fine.  Yay.  Back on the road … after the purchase of a shirt and a couple of poker chips for my collector friends, and a dip dot for my map.  My map has dip dots and pins of shops I’ve visited over the years, so it’s quite covered … but it’s a hobby of mine so I know where I’ve been, mostly.  The little glitches on this trip is probably HD’s way of getting me to stop at nearly every shop.  I have passed up a few … that were open.  Haha!!!

Onward, to Highway 169.  I came to the Mille Lacs Grand Casino/Hotel and figured I’d stop since this is where I was staying.  Maybe I could register early???  It was probably a little after noon, and lucky for me, my room was ready.  I was in. 

Maybe I got lost a time or two, or three ... whatever.  I made it ... and will now make contact with some of my cousins.  Yahoo!!!  I'm here ... destination for a few days ... and maybe a fortune to be made.  Don't worry, Hobbs.  I'll share.

This place, as are many casinos and hotels, huge.  But I was on the ground floor and didn’t have far to go from the registration desk.  The hotel is separated from the casino, so I couldn’t smell smoke, which is a plus, as I’d walked through the casino earlier and there are a lot of smoking gamblers.  Not smoking HOT gamblers, just smokers.  I found another entrance. 

I texted my cousin, Kate, that I had arrived.  Yahoo.  Contact.  I’d go out to the house on the lake that my Cousin Jim and his family has.

A stop for a map check, and I made it; actually, it was quite easy to find.  A few of my other cousins were there and I helped them do a little prep work for the big day on Saturday.  We even shucked a hundred ears of corn.  I was a bit slow at that.

Cousins Bill and Mike (from left), and Cousin Chris's husband, Steve, shucking corn.

Cousins Kate and Chris ... I was a slow little shucker ... my excuse is because I'm behind the camera.  We had 100 ears to shuck for the big barbeque the next day.  There are 107 registered to come to the reunion.  That's a lot of  Bogans and relations.

We had time for a few of the “Harley” photos, and then it was back to the casino to register and get ready for meeting in the hospitality room for a bit. 

My Cousin Kate, instrumental in setting up the family reunion and getting me there.  She'd asked some time ago if there was a cousin reunion if I would come.  "Sure," I said.  She made it happen.  I had to come and was glad I did.

Cousin Bill from Hawaii.

Cousins Mike and Chris.

The hospitality room at the casino filled slowly but was then packed.  I met cousins I’d never met, renewed acquaintances with ones I’d not seen in years, and saw ones that had not been even thought of when I was last around family.  What a great time and how good I felt to know these were my people.

 

That's one beautiful ham sandwich.  A gentleman named Chuck Rice passed away and some of my cousins were at his Celebration of Life.  Chuck had attended a number of celebrations and partook of the food.  Because of that he was very specific about his celebration when it came time.  He did not want a single slice of chinzy ham.  He wanted two slices.  The sandwiches made for his celebration contained two slices of "real" ham, the kind cut off a ham, not the packaged luncheon meat you get at the store.  The only problem was that the church would not allow the sandwiches in ... no outside food could  be brought in.  So my cousins were told to take the sandwiches to the Bogan Family Reunion.  We were eating  dead man's food.  But I had one and it was so yummy.  Thanks, Chuck Rice.  I love you, too.

My Uncle Mike and me.  He's my dad's brother.

 

My Aunt Helen (wife of Louis who has passed) came in, and it brought me to tears to see her.  It was 1994 when I last saw her.  We gave motorcycle rides to her, Louis and Cousin Janie.  It was wonderful to see her as there is only Mike, one of my dad's siblings left, his wife and Helen.  She's a grand lady, and we shared some wonderful memories.  They weren't sure she would attend, but as I understood from her, she wouldn't have missed it.  I love my Aunt Helen.  She's sent me cards and notes over the years keeping me a bit up-to-date on some of the family and I've so enjoyed an appreciated it.


Then it was down to the casino for a bit ... $20 into various penny machines.  I now have a $22.91 cashout voucher.  Yay.  But will I keep it?
 

 

Monday, Monday ... sometimes it just works out that way

Slider always gets me out of town.  She always gets me to where I want to be, and then usually she goes one way and I head the other.  This time I wanted to go on Interstate 80, east toward Mineola, Texas, and then angle up on 37 to a place called De Queen, Arkansas.  It’s because my friends encourage me to behave badly.  So, a photo op was in order.

Sometimes your plans don’t always work out the way you think they will.  I stopped along the road to double check my map and my bike wouldn’t start when I got back on.  Crap!!!

A bike going the other direction asked me with the thumb’s up if I was okay.  I signaled with the thumb’s down and he came around.  His name was Gary and he was on his way to work.  He pulled the fuse panel, but nothing going on there.  He couldn’t help me. 

While Gary was there and I was trying to call Roadside Assistance, a mobile repair unit pulled in behind us.  The guy got out and turns out while he works on trucks, trailers and refrigeration units, he also does some motorcycle work.  He figured it was the battery so I unloaded my bike and he finally got it jump started.  I reloaded everything back on it.  What a guy.  Turns out he is a prospect for the Bandidos MC.  He was very kind and respectful to me and I think he respected his wife as that’s what he called her … no derogatory names.  He also would not accept any payment, and just said I was a biker and that we should help each other.  I politely asked if I could take his photo.  It didn’t hurt that he was quite easy on the eyes.  (Yep, I still have eyes, and they’re good ones.)  If you want more information on this organization, Google it.  I did.

My first guardian angel for the day.

Off I rode heading to Tyler, Texas, and the Harley shop.  In trying to get to I-20, I got challenged big-time directionally and just flat could not find it … construction, bad directions.  I stopped to check my phone GPS and made the mistake of putting down the kickstand without the bike first being in neutral.  On a Police bike, that’s the signal to shut it down.  And shut down it did … with no restart in sight.  I got off the bike and just threw up my hands while thinking “that was stupid,”  along with a few other choice words.

A pickup truck with a not-so-young, not-so-old gentleman immediately pulled up and asked if I was okay.  Nope, sure not.  He had jumpers.  Once again I unloaded my bike, sweating, drops of sweat streaming down my face into my eyes and stinging me to tears, down my back and my front … I was soaking wet.  Ugh!!!  But once again we got the bike started and he gave me the proper directions (that worked) to get to I-20.  He would not accept any money either.  WOW!!!  What nice folks I’ve run into.  (Yes, I know there are not-so-nice ones out there, too, but I am pure-of-heart-mostly, and am living a charmed life.  I also try to be very aware.)  Another lady stopped as well.  Yep, I’m good now.  Thank you very much. 

Off I went to Tyler.  My battery test showed it as DEAD, DEAD, DEADER THAN DEAD.  Did I tell you it was DEAD?  A half hour to 45 minutes later and I was back on the road, heading somewhere.  I went east toward Longview, Texas, and eventually got headed north toward Arkansas.  I was back on track, although on a different road than I’d originally intended to ride.  Oh well.  It really doesn’t matter, except that I had to stop and stay further south than I’d intended, still in Texas.

Remember the saga of my friends Joe and Verlie (my Phoenix bike’s foster parents) and the motor coach?  This time as they were traveling someone came up and told them their pickup truck they were pulling had come loose and was hanging on by mere security chains.  When they stopped to check it, the truck rear-ended the motor coach.  That truck is developing a nasty habit of rear-ending other vehicles.  That’s two.  Anyway, the cotter pin or whatever it is that attaches it to the hitch had come out, broken, whatever.  But luckily, no damage other than a hole in the coach bumper. 

But wait, there’s more, and it hasn’t been good news on this trip.  On their way from Medford, Oregon, to Portland where Joe’s family reunion is, they blew a tire on the driver’s side rear axle.  While they got someone out to repair it, they had to limp to a garage as the tire also took out the transmission line and they were losing $80-a-gallon fluid.  Some work, some welding, and they got back on the road and arrived at their campground/resort destination.  At least they did not have a wreck when the tire blew.  They’ve been very lucky that way … only the vehicles have been damaged in the making of this trip.  But it’s all been quite expensive, I’m sure. 

On Tuesday morning (July 29), I once again headed north and made it into Arkansas.  It wasn’t too many miles and this mission was accomplished, De Queen, Arkansas. 

Yep, I'm behaving badly.  And it's all your faults ... encouraging me all the time.

From there I continued north as I wanted to go to Fort Smith, Arkansas.  There was something there I wanted photograph, the 30-foot-tall Mr. Peanut from Planter’s Company.  The statue was originally a Peabody, Massachusetts, landmark, and I wanted a photo since I have friends in Peabody and want them to see it.  Maybe they remember it?  It was restored and moved to the company’s lawn in Fort Smith to live on in history.

Planter's Factory.

And Mr. Peanut.

There was another mission for the day, the Toad Suck Harley shop in Conway, Arkansas.  I rode I-40 to get there as I was starting to fall a little behind where I wanted to be.  What a name for a shop.  Of course, I need a shirt with this name. 

“The Legend of Toad Suck

Long ago, steamboats traveled the Arkansas River when the water was at the right depth. When it wasn't, the captains and their crew tied up to wait where the Toad Suck Lock and Dam now spans the river. While they waited, they refreshed themselves at the local tavern there, to the dismay of the folks living nearby, who said: "They suck on the bottle 'til they swell up like toads." Hence, the name Toad Suck. The tavern is long gone, but the legend lives on.”  (Taken from a website I found on Google.)

There’s also Toad Suck Daze, a 3-day festival held on the streets of downtown Conway.  It’s the first weekend in May if you’re looking for something to do.

Heading north out of Conway, I rode in beautiful hilly country, lush greenery and wonderful roads.  Maybe I’ve been on this road before, maybe not.  It doesn’t matter as it’s not the same as … north or south? every day like at home.  It was a pleasant day’s ride and I ended up in Harrison, Arkansas, about 30 miles south of Branson, Missouri.

I was trying to get to Mankato, Minnesota, on Thursday to stay with my cousin, Kate.  Kate had made arrangements for me to stay at the convent campus where she lives.  (Don’t get up-in-arms; I’m sure it would have been okay for me … haha!!)  But one of our hosts for the reunion was admitted to the hospital and Kate had to leave early to help get everything ready.  So while I could still stay there I chose to bypass it as I’d rather Kate be there to show me around.  Next time.

When I awoke on Wednesday (July 30), I waited just long enough to make sure there was some rain.  I really hadn’t ridden in any rain, just a shower or two, sometimes heavy, sometimes not.  Today was the day.  My mission was to just keep heading north.  I was not supposed to be riding in rain, but it kept coming down, from a drizzle to harder, bigger drops.  Okay, in Branson  I decided it was time to gas up and gear up. 

This vehicle was at the gas station ... half cab, half police car.  Very unique.  It sure gets your attention and I hope it works to get drunks home safely, as well as keep others safe from them.

Gearing up did the trick as I only rode in about 35 more miles of it, 65 miles in all, really nothing in the big scheme.  At home we’d be riding in it for days.  Down here, you often only ride for a short period of time, and this time I was grateful.  It wasn’t cold, but it sure made for a dirty bike and wet pants.  I think my dark blue pants leaked color onto my cream-colored butt pad Slider gave me last year.

The day got beautiful, and perfect for sightseeing.  I've always been attracted to bales or rolls of hay.  This was no different, but there was an added element.

This tribute to our country was right next to the rolls of hay.  What a find, out in the middle of nowhere.

 

This is a better shot of two of the four statues.  They were very impressive ... just on the top of the hill.  I climbed up to take photos.  Hope I didn't get chiggers this time. 

I made a lunch stop in Sedalia, Missouri, and used the extra time in not having to be in Mankato Thursday to schedule a 35,000-mile-service.  That wasn’t as easy as I’d expected.  I had to call three shops.  They were all booked up, backed up and were dealing with Sturgis traffic.  What?  I’d forgotten.  Yep, Sturgis.  I got an appointment at Chipp’s Harley-Davidson in Osceola, Iowa, for Thursday morning.  Some of us visited this shop last year after the 110^th reunion in Milwaukee.  I had wanted a shirt from here as it comes quite close to matching the license plate on the cop bike, CHIPS1.  So now I’ll have another.

 

Once I’d finished lunch and made the appointment my goal was to get to Osceola and overnight near the shop so I didn’t have to get up at daybreak to ride and be there by 9 a.m.  That mission, too, was accomplished.  Guess I’m just mission-oriented.

Sometimes ya just gotta turn around and go back and get that photo.  I don't know how the person made this but it was beautiful and I went back to get this photo, turning around on a narrow two-lane road, which is always a challenge for me.

On the way, I again rode wonderful roads.  While State Highway 65 sometimes is four-lane, or three when it’s got passing lanes, much of the time it is two-lane, the kind you love to ride.  This road had taken me through the hillls of Arkansas to the lushness of Missouri to the agricultural fields of Iowa.  I really enjoyed this ride, and stopped a time or two for photo opportunities. 

A roadside table set up to sell wares.  It's good use of a power pole.

 

After all, I needed blog fodder.  I’ve seen Amish carriages, four of them.  I’ve always enjoyed seeing them.  But I often wonder how they can possibly survive in this day and age.  There is so much “progress” and it must be difficult for their young people with all the technology, vehicles and so on.

 

 

One of the places I stopped was Peter’s Market.  The reason I stopped mainly was because they had fresh peaches, and I was sure wanting to sample a few.  They had rows of different kinds of peaches, and it’s difficult to make a decision for only one kind, especially when you can only get one.  I talked to some other folks on a bike and we decided to split a basket of them, so each of us got three.  Perfect.  (Plus the lady gave me a tip of something to look for … quilts on the side of barns, mostly in Iowa.)

Did you say peaches?  How many kinds do you want?  You want it, they've got it.

But there was so much more to Peter's.  It was not merely a produce stand, but a real market with jars of pickled this and that, apple butter, and butters of all kinds, and the fruit?  I’ve never seen fruit the size of the cantaloupes they had.  WOW!!!

This is a full-blown store, with everything you need for a snack.

 

If you want something pickled, there are lots to choose from.

Have you ever seen cantaloupes this big?  $2.99 each.  Don't we pay nearly that per pound at home?

Then I found the ciders and slushies.  There was a peach-lemonade slushie that I had to try.  Talk about  refreshing drink … this was IT!!!!  I enjoyed my short stay, but then I was off again, landing in Osceola about a mile from the shop.

It was a great day of riding ... farmland, animals, produce stands.  Fun, relaxing, the kind of ride day you dream of. 

 

Visiting good friends is always in style

We spent Saturday morning in a leisurely fashion … drinking coffee, talking, and trying out some Zumba CD’s Slider had bought.  We also replaced her furnace/air conditioning filter up in the attic area and were a bit dewy. 

I'd been up in that attic and couldn't find where to replace the filter.  Slider could and did. 

We worked so hard we needed a reward so we had to get showered and hit the road.  It was time for some shopping therapy.  I had a couple of places I wanted to go …

I must have tried on 50 pairs of shoes to find a pair of sandals that felt good.  My poor feet suffer and it's hard to find something that feels good.  Usually they aren't the best looking, but these are Clark brand and look and feel good.  You'll see.  Maybe.  I'm not sure if I'll bring them home or make them my Lower 48 sandals.

DSW for a new pair of sandals, a couple of other places since I needed a family reunion outfit and, most importantly, the Dirt Store.  Don’t be fooled.  The Dirt Store is only what we call it.  It’s a nursery (Ron’s Organics … her husband) with a boutique inside, called The Brown Eyed Girl.  I love this place and the lady who owns and runs it, Mona.  She has unique items and I never tire of looking, purchasing a few items and talking with her.  Mission accomplished. 

There's so much to look at at the Dirt Store ... beautiful, unique and things I never see at home.  Of course, I don't do much shopping at home for these types of things.  It's much more fun to come down here to either Texas or Arizona or anywhere to shop.  The Lower 48 is where I do that ... different things ... and a present or two for others is always in good form.

We’d had lunch at a Souper! Salad! But what was missing was … wait for it … frozen yogurt.  I located a place online called Sweet Frog, and we found it.  Oh yes, delicious.  It was quite good.  They had cake batter frozen yogurt but no fresh raspberries.  I’m pleased to announce that our frozen yogurt place, the Yogurt Lounge in Anchorage, is the best I’ve had … although there may be a few others to try.  Home grown is my favorite.  I think I’m becoming quite a connoisseur.

Cake batter frozen yogurt ... how can I resist?  I can't.

Slider and I got up Sunday morning, but it was just a nice day to relax, do laundry and talk.  We don’t often talk on the phone so this has to make up for a year’s worth of chatting.  But in chatting we think maybe the long sleeves are making my sunburn worse.  She gave me a pair of socks and I cut the feet out of them.  I’ll use them for my arms and put sunscreen under and maybe that will help.  Armlets … the protection I hope will work.

Armlets ... hoping this works to keep my arms from blistering up each day.  Blister and peel is not my idea of a good time.

We eventually decided we needed to try a catfish place she likes, the Catfish Cove.  It was quite good, and a lot of food.  But I was still daydreaming about the brisket I’d had on Friday.

All too soon it was time for me to get back on the road … Monday, time to head for Minnesota. 

Blisters upon blisters from the searing heat

I was up and moving.  I’m being plagued by blisters on my sunburn and my dermatologist will chastise me when she sees what I’ve done to my skin.  I’ve done everything I can think of … sunscreen, a long-sleeved shirt.  But still I’m blistering up and now starting to peel.  This isn’t good.  I have to be on the road, riding to my next destination. 

On Thursday, July 24, I was working my way across the few short miles left of New Mexico  and heading into Texas, my final destination to be Mesquite where my good friend, Slider, is.  My plan is to spend the weekend since I don’t get to see her as often as I’d like.  It’s nice to take a few days and to spend time on the weekends as my friends aren’t working.  Then they go back to work and I go back to my job of riding Monday through Friday.  Works for me.

There sure are a lot of trains in New Mexico.

The heat hasn’t been too bad.  Propel in my water and ice in my drink has helped a lot.  Drinking more has improved as I often have a problem drinking enough on trips.

Texas came into my headlights near Muleshoe.  Interesting name, that.  The city was founded in 1913 when the Pecos and Northern Texas Railway built an 88-mile line from Farwell to Lubbock.  The name Muleshoe is traced to a brand registered in 1860, and a ranch supposedly named after the owner found a mule shoe in the soil. 

I also had to make another little side trip to find Jolly, Texas (for our friend, Dave Jolly).  It's so small it took me a while and I couldn't even find a sign for the town itself.  This would have to do.

 

I pretty much just rode, making miles toward my friend.  But I had to make a photo stop … the Boston Terrier Museum.

The Boston Terrier Museum in Floydada, Texas.  I wish it had been open as it would have been fun to poke around in there.  It was opened in 2007 by a husband and wife to showcase their collection of all things Boston Terrier.  The collection (started in 1991) kept growing so to keep him out of trouble with his wife they opened the museum, a former hospital where many of the people who live in Floydada were born.

By the time I hit Wichita Falls, Texas, I figured it was time to call it a day.  The motel I ended up at was called the Wayfarer’s Motor Inn. Do NOT, repeat DO NOT ever stay here.  This is in my top two worst hotel/motels ever.  I’m embarrassed that I even stayed there.  I did not sleep well nor shower.  Nuff said.

On Friday, July 25, I was going to meet up with Slider.  We decided to meet in McKinney, on I-75.  But, of course, I got sidetracked a little bit.  Along the way I saw a crop duster dusting crops.  I had to stop and take a few photos.  It was fascinating to watch and the little plane was yellow.  It was a beautiful thing to watch.

He flew back and forth, and then he was gone, like a mere figment of my imagination.  I so enjoyed watching this as he was like a pilot flying aerobatics, up, down, looping around.

When I got to McKinney, Slider and I had no trouble finding each other.  I pulled off the interstate and pulled into a Lowe’s parking lot.  I checked my text messages.  She was in the next parking lot over at Home Depot.  Great minds. 

Hugs around, and then I was dying of heat … and it wasn’t that hot.  But there’d been an accident that had slowed down the traffic and so I got in later than expected. 

As we’d not eaten we went to a little barbecue place she’d seen on the way to meet me.  What a place.  The food, especially the brisket that was fork-cutting friendly, was over-the-top, mind-blowing delicious … the place and parking lot and drive through were packed.  There’s your sign. 

I know I posted this on Facebook, but it was so good ... what can I say?

On the way home we did the usual, I followed her … and we took a couple of nice roads to stay off the main ones.  There were some nice little curves and I was enjoying the ride.  I had my sheepskin butt pad on and I needed to adjust it so I was sitting up and things felt a little off … I wasn’t leaning into my bag on the back seat.  I looked around to find that it was hanging off the side of my bike with one nylon strap and a bungee cord.  Oh man, I pulled over.  That could have been a disaster, but I was able to avert it.  I can’t believe I didn’t feel the unbalancing of the bike.  That was probably a good thing as I probably just counterbalanced without realizing it; otherwise, I could have been pulled over.

This whole incident scared me as the results could have been disastrous. 

We got my bag secured in Slider’s Cadillac and got to the barn.  I unloaded everything and looked at the strap.  It had broken.  I’d seen a little slit in it and the more I looked at it, the more I think it had been cut.  I just bought this bag last summer so it doesn’t have many miles on it.  And I’ve NEVER had a nylon strap break like this in the middle.  I noticed it when I was packing for this trip, so it must have happened during my spring ride.  

 

Let the talking marathon begin.  Food, talk, talk and more talk.  Then bed.  I was tired and the nylon strap and more blistering has me stressed out a bit.

 

 

 

On the run again

I continue running along on my Lower 48 trip.  A good thing since my Alaskan bike had an issue (loud clunking noises and difficulty shifting in and out of gear) the day before I left home to come down to Phoenix, Arizona, and on to points east, south, north.   The House of Harley-Davidson picked it up and it’s on its way to recovery.   The diagnosis is that a nut backed off inside the transmission, and there went the transmission.  Parts and pieces.  It will be ready soon and waiting for me when I return home.



A New Yorker ahead of me, a New Yorker behind me.
 

But back to my New Yorkers.  We left Silver City and headed north and west on Highways 260, 78 and then 191.  What beautiful country we were riding through, at least after we got out of the mining part with big equipment, rock tunnels and a barrenness to it that is beautiful in its own way. 

Mining country.

Kim in the tunnel.

Richard entering the tunnel behind me.

It's beautiful country, and perfect riding.

We were traveling mountain roads that have sheer drop offs, rock walls, flowers, huge trees, and a smell to it that has you breathing deeply breath-after-breath.  It was wonderful, even when we hit a rain shower.  I wasn’t wearing a helmet or much and was thinking it was going to get ugly.  But as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared.  It’s not like home where the rain lasts not an hour or two but for days.   

We still had blue skies, no smoke here.

There's evidence of previous fires in the area.

Smoke in the distance rose like giant plumes over the mountains and mixed with the clouds.  I was hoping we’d not be riding into a wild fire.  The smoke disappeared, but we found it again, multiple times, to the point of smelling it and then riding through some of it.  Luckily we were never threatened by the fire itself. 

Yep, smoke found.

On we rode, 10 mph corners, 25, 35, 45 mph corners.  The 45s are my favorite.  My game is to not hit the brakes and to run 5-10 mph over the speed limit.  Yep, a test every time.

We took a break here ... would be fun to stay a night or so, Hannagan Meadows Lodge.

This one's for you, Biker Bill ... at the lodge.

Black clouds surrounded us and as we kept going it wasn’t looking any better.  Kim checked the Trip Advisor app on her phone (which I now have) and there was a motel/restaurant called the Largo Motel in Quemado, New Mexico.  She noted that it had received good reviews.  Off we went to find it.

When we arrived, it was exactly the kind of place Biker Bill and I like to stay.  A motel laid out so you park outside your door and just walk in.  The bike is in sight and it’s easy, breezy to load and unload the bikes.  And, best part, they told us to park under the roof of the rooms, along the little walkway to protect the bikes from the rain.  Clean, an Internet connection, and great water pressure in the shower.  Yahoo.  Yep, our favorite kind of place.

Biker Bill has a friend who lives nearby in Fence Lake so I messaged him to see if he and his wife would like to join us for breakfast the following morning.  It appeared not, so I’d have to try again the next trip.

We sat outside under the roof, talking and playing on the computers, sorting photos and so on for a relaxing evening that never had a heavy rain, lightning or thunder materialize.  That was good for me although we were protected.  I was so glad to have time to visit more as I don’t know when I’ll next see these wonderful East Coast friends of mine.

Relaxing, working on the computers, chatting.

Wednesday (July 23) there was no sign of the un-New-Mexico-type-weather we’d experienced the day before.  It was a glorious day, which would only be marred by separating from my friends.  It saddens me each time I leave someone behind, but we have to go on to the next adventure … be brave, experience the new, ride to new levels …

As we loaded the bikes, prior to going to breakfast across the parking lot, up rolls a midnight blue Harley trike.  Who is that man behind the dark glasses?  Haha!  Our friend, Dave Bigdog Jolly.  He said it was only right if we’d ridden that far and asked to see him that he ride 45 miles to meet us.  Hell ya!!!

Dave Bigdog Jolly and his trike came to visit.  A wonderful surprise.

Dave joined us for breakfast and we sat for a long time enjoying the camaraderie.  As Dave was running some errands he would ride awhile with Rich and Kim.  I, on the other hand, would only ride with them for about a half mile, then I would head east while they rode in a northerly fashion toward Durango, Colorado. 

I watched them in front of me, going left while I kept going straight on Hwy. 60 heading to Socorro, New Mexico.  My plan was to go north on I-25 and then cut over onto Hwy. 60 again and follow it to Clovis, New Mexico. 

Squirrel!!!  Sidetracked.  I was running 60 and I came upon these big dish-type antenna.  I’ve ridden this way so many times.  I’ve stopped and taken a photo or two, but I’ve never gone into the visitor center.  Should I, shouldn’t I?  Yep, this was the time I was going to do it.

This is the VLA from a distance, before I decided to visit.

This was a fascinating place … the Karl G. Jansky Very Large Array (VLA) Telescope.  It’s named after Karl Jansky who is considered the father of radio astronomy.  He worked for Bell Laboratories and his job was to track down radio noise that would interfere with their overseas wireless communication devices.  Instead he surprised astronomers in 1933 by announcing that he had discovered radio waves coming from the Milky Way. 

The VLA has been the hardest working telescope on earth since 1980, watching the skies day and night for astronomers around the world.  It’s a 22-mile wide telescope made up of 27 dish antennas, which is what I see every time I go by here.  Each dish is 82-feet-across and weighs 230 tons. 

These things don't look so big, but they are huge.

The purpose of the VLA is to do research on the nature of the universe … how did it begin, how big is it, how old and so on.  It was built during the 70s but currently is being updated to make it 10 times more powerful, allowing astronomers to study distant cosmic objects that currently cannot be seen.  It will then be called the EVLA (Expanded Very Large Array). 

The 70s design used waveguide, a stainless steel pipe with wire wound inside it.  With the EVLA the waveguide will be replaced with fiber optics, resulting in an increase a hundred times over in the amount of data that can be brought back from the antenna.

There's also a sun dial at the VLA.

And on one of the sun dial pieces, imagine what I found. I am not sure, guess it's graffiti.  But ... SWEET!!

I probably shouldn’t have made a stop, but it was something I’d wanted to do every time I’d followed Hwy. 60.  I’ve always been in a hurry, going to or from somewhere else, and in a rush.  I’m glad I made the stop.

Yep, very glad indeed.

Once I’d made the run on I-25 and on to 60 I wasn’t so sure about my decision to stop.  In the mountains toward Mountainair, New Mexico, there were dark clouds, not just here and there, not just gathering.  I rode until I saw lightning and hit some rain.  Hmmmm.  Time to turn around, go back and go up I-25 further until I hit I-40 and go east to get around it.  Not so fast.  I did just that, but never made it to I-40. 

I’d gassed up and was told there was something happening up the road and traffic was at a standstill.  I also heard that maybe the rain had passed so I backtracked and went back to 60 east.  Nope.  No rain at all now, although I could see where it had rained pretty hard.  Yep, golden right now.

While I didn’t get to Clovis, New Mexico, which is where I’d planned to be, I stopped only 60 miles short for the night.  It was a good decision.  I was tired and needed to get off the bike.