105, con't

So I got out on the freeway headed north after topping off the tank. I think I had about 150 pounds strapped on behind me and I was somewhat nervous about whether it would stay in place or not.
There was a blue bandana tied around my neck with the cowboy-type flap covering the nape. I had figured that it would be better than getting a sunburn. It blew off just as I was bringing my hand up to check on it twenty minutes into the ride! Last I saw it was in the rear view mirror, settling into the middle lane of US75 in Allen.
As I was going through McKinney, a Harley-Davidson Street Bob passed me. I was still warming to the ride and he was running about 80 mph. I couldn't help but wonder if we shared a destination as he was wearing a sleek backpack that well stuffed. He had barely gained a quarter mile on me when another H-D passed by, this one being ridden by someone flying the colors of his motorcycle club and also sporting luggage strapped down behind him. I fell him behind him and we became a group of three. It was a good time to ride with them up past the Oklahoma border, when the second man decided he was ready to pull off and it became the two of us.
Shortly after this, Rowdy indicated his desire for a drink stop. When we pulled into the gas station in Atoka, OK we introduced ourselves. It turned out he was headed for the 105 as well but needed to make a stop in Tulsa. His court appearance the next morning was going to result in the end of his probation and he would become "a free man" again (his words). It all stemmed from "an incident with the law" that I didn't attempt to investigate. We pumped our gas, then went inside to get the drinks. He came out with a 24 oz Bud Light to "take the edge off." I had my water. It was 11:00 A.M. I still had way too far to go to lose any edge I might have. He stopped around back to drink it down and was laughing when he came back.
"What's up?"
He directed my eyes around the opposite side of the building from which he had just come. There, parked against the curb looking right at us was a police car. He told me he had been standing behind a delivery vehicle that was wheeling product in the back door of the store, drinking his beer. When the truck drove off, he was staring at the cop.
We got back on the Harleys and rode off, amused at his near miss. It would have sucked for him to blow the probation so close to the hearing!
He decided to continue up the road to Waggoner, OK instead of getting on the turnpike to Tulsa and I was glad for his company for the extra hour or so. When we parted at another fuel stop, we bid each other good times and with the open chance that wemight run into each other again. I also learned that the red and white decals with wings attached to a circle around the number 81 branded his bike as belonging to a patched member of the Hell's Angels. He explained there aren't any Angels in North Texas, so he doesn't wear the colors, but his bike does. His is a legacy membership, going back to his grandfather. He and his dad are just carrying on the tradition.
Anyway, after we split I turned my attention back to the rest of a long day. I had planned to stop in Miami, Ok to visit an old customer of mine after dining at Clanton's Cafe.
Clanton's was featured on the Food Network TV show called Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. Located on the old Route 66, I knew the town. It was close to Miami and would be a very welcome respite.

I enjoyed a great chicken fried steak with green beans, mashed potatoes and a tossed salad. Plus the eavedropping on the old men in the next booth solving all the problems of the world. Mostly those around town though.
After lunch, I headed over to Miami. I saw my old friend, who gave me a heads up on directions to Kansas. I made the Kansas stateline about 5, then got onto IH-44 just into Missouri at about 5:30. I rode past the George Washington Carver National Monument on my way to Granby, MO. Having grown up in Granby, CT, I had hoped to get my picture taken in front of a police car with Granby markings. I figured it would be perfect for my sister Heidi - "Here's the picture you always expected..." - but alas, THE police car was pulling out from the light when I arrived in town. There may be a second car, but the chief likely takes it home at night. Here's what the town hall/police station looks like though -



The Volunteer Fire Dept is housed right next door in the white building seen at the right edge of this photo. This is looking from the top of the hill back towards the stoplight.


By this time, my helmet was hurting my head and the googles were irritating me as well. Imagine how pleased I was to pull into Ballard's Campground and find this was the campsite available for my first night -


It had been a long 400 miles. It hurt so good! :-)

Has it been nearly a week already?

It was last week, on the 25th of August that I got all packed up and ready for my ride to Milwaukee and Harley-Davidson's 105th Anniversary celebration. Originally intending to leave my house between 1 and 2 PM, I had been gifted with my boss on the Friday before. She told me she didn't expect to see me Monday and to have a good time.
"Be careful." Her admonition joined the chorus others were giving me, too. I sorta started to wonder before leaving what it was they thought I was in for, or was it me that was naieve?
So this picture was taken by my daughter Nicki just before I saddled up and hit it. The time was about 9:30. In other words, an hour later than I hoped but about what I expected. the upper right shows the mileage on the odometer before I started the motor.
It was a great morning to start out and the first fuel stop a mile from the house added an important .99 gallons to the tank.
To be continued.......

RNC Protesters Flunk the test

Kurt will attest to my radical credentials I'm sure. I was an organizer in my high school for the Moratorium to End the Vietnam War in October 1969. The Moratorium drew over 500,000 to the Mall in DC, and another 10 million people gathered in other cities across the country. In Connecticut there were 10,000 in Hartford, 5,000 in West Hartford, thousands more in every large town in the state. Even tiny little towns got dozens of folks to stand on the green at the designated hour and declare their opposition to the war. There wasn't a full-blown general strike, but most of the colleges shut down, the high schools experienced extremely high absenteeism from both students and faculty, and even the offices and factories had a significant number of folks call out in protest of the war. And the only folks arrested for the most part were those who participated in planned, non-violent acts of civil disobedience like burning draft cards or crossing the police line and pouring blood on the gates of the state's many defense plants.

We showed our faces. We didn't hide behind bandanas. We didn't destroy stuff. We didn't hurt anyone, or even try to. No throwing rocks and bricks, no smashing police cars. And we were heard. Six months later when US troops openly crossed the border into Cambodia the protests became mainstream. There was enough public support that we were able to organize a suspension of classes for part of a day and to replace the normal schoolwork with seminars and forums discussing the history and moral validity of US involvement in Nam.

That was the day I unfairly became known as a radical when I unknowingly and unwittingly created a near riot in the gym/auditorium. As a discussion assembly was being shut down early I left the building and went to the principal's office with a dozen others to wait for him so we could negotiate the format for a follow up all-school assembly when the older students back in the earlier assembly refused to leave and staged a sit-in. This panicked the teachers, who then began hustling the younger students out the back doors. That created pandemonium which the principal and assistant principal in the front of the auditorium mistook for a violent uprising and were about to call for the police and fire department before a more levelheaded teacher explained what was happening to them. Somehow my actions at the end of the assembly were understood to have called for that action by the other students. I never knew I was so persuasive!

So, back to the present. I know images can lie, and that the media is known for falsely depicting events, but whether it be corporate media video or an internet independent lens, everything I'm seeing of the RNC protests looks like a bunch of privileged whining folks who want to act out, and then are unwilling to accept the consequences for their actions. Check out the Star Tribune video of the kid who leaves the march line, pulls a construction barricade out of the ground, and throws it in the street, and then poses for the cameras as if to say "So there!" My 2 year old grandchild can throw that kind of tantrum! Or when people are arrested for grabbing the reins of the horses attempting to cause them to throw the mounted police the protesters chant "Let them go!" as if there was no reason for the arrest. Hey, you try to hurt someone you should be arrested.

I'm not calling for the RNC protesters to be good little boys and girls and not make a fuss. Protest marches are meant to create inconvenience for the community. They're meant to be in your face. But senseless destruction and trying to hurt others, and then whining and crying when you get arrested for it is not going to win any one over to your side. It looks more like the drunken celebrations in cities after sports teams win a championship than a political statement. The purpose of a mass gathering is to show those in the closet so to speak that there are many others sharing their views - to encourage them to speak out also and be heard as ones opposed to the war other government policies. It's to let the powers that be know that they will not go unchallenged. And it's meant to inconvenience the apathetic public in a way that reminds them that they too are choosing a side in this battle. To do nothing is to accept the status quo.

All I see are folks acting like they missed out on the "glory" days of the Nam protests. There was nothing glorious about those days. Yeah, the protests got US troops removed from the battlefield. But we were used by all kinds of unsavory people for their own ends -- our words and actions were twisted to serve the careers of unworthy folks, and we were incorrectly shown as supporting all kinds of ideas and political positions we heartily disagreed with. And we set the stage for a backlash that helped create the mess we're in now. The more things change, the more they stay the same. If we don't learn from the past we get to relive it.

There's No Place Like Home

made it back just fine.
I'm not sure what all the fuss was about riding 2,400 miles on a Sportster. The bike did its job marvelously and I had a blast. Pictures are coming soon, along with the narrative posts to go with each but overall I can't really describe it.
It was just fun.