741 Steps

I turn my back to the wind
To catch my breath,
Before I start off again.
Driven on without a moment to spend
To pass an evening with a drink and a friend

                                                            (Neil Peart – “Time Stand Still”)

Preparing for Departure

It isn’t very often Mary or I go out for an evening, let alone a day.  Sometimes we get so consumed by life’s everyday challenges we forget to take pause, to stop and share in the love we have for each other.  Life has been passing us by a lot lately, with Mary’s health having issues, I working two jobs, trying to maintain some semblance of sanity in an otherwise insane world. So it was with the first weekend of October.  We had been so busy and so stressed with life that we had become oblivious to our need to get out, to enjoy each other.  Fortunately, a friend stepped in and provided us with a weekend escape, a chance to enjoy the company of friends, to share a fine meal, to “pass the evening with a drink and a friend” as it were.

Mary at the USS South Dakota
Memorial

That first weekend of October we met up with some friends in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.  This trip would give us a chance to get away, and it would provide a springboard for which I could realize my dream of riding through the Black Hills of South Dakota on my Harley.  No rallies, just me on my bike.  We anxiously hit the road, and made the trip to Sioux Falls, stopping only for gas.  As tired as we were that first night, we  savored every moment together, relaxed by a fire, struck up conversation with others who passed by.  Our friends having not yet arrived, we took some time that Saturday to enjoy a quiet breakfast and find a few sights to take in, but soon we returned to our hotel, and waited for our friends to arrive.  The first couple arrived by midafternoon, and the other friends would arrive soon after.  We lost ourselves in conversation, hugs, the sharing of gifts.  Although tired, our friends were ready for the evening.

Mary with Exeter,
The Travelling Bear

We took a limousine to a Brazilian restaurant.  This was a festive place, loading up on South American style cuisine, and loading your plate with meats and veggies at every turn.  The manager was even taken by our playful spirit, going so far as to serve us himself, bringing a delightful drink for each of us to share in the evening. Toasting the evening made us all realize how fortunate we were to share in the evening.  We returned to our hotel full, but anxious to continue our evening by the fire pit Mary and I had enjoyed the previous evening.  As we sat at the fire, a young girl and her parents were making smores, and shared some with each of us.  We talked for hours not even caring about the time, but eventually the evening ended, and as we hugged we gave thanks to each other for a spectacular night. 

From left:  Barry, Cassie, Michelle, me, and Janna

“You live more in five minutes on a bike like this going flat out than some people live in a lifetime.”

                                                            (Burt Munro – “The World’s Fastest Indian”)

My brand new 2011 Ultra Classic
ElectraGlide Harley Davidson
aka Marilyn, posing in Spearfish Canyon

For many years I had wanted my own Harley motorcycle.  I remember as a teenager asking my mom and dad to buy one, and the reaction I got from the mere thought of me on a bike.  I remember our neighbor had a motorcycle when I was 9, and I never stopped asking him for a ride.  As I set out that Sunday after warmly embracing my wife, setting off on a four day journey through the Black Hills, I remembered the long road I had taken to make this trip a reality.  Guiding my bike onto the freeway I could feel myself shaking, almost shedding a tear for the realization of a dream.  My trip would take me to Rapid City, staying with a friend’s son who was stationed at Ellsworth Air Force Base.  Then four rides from Rapid City – Devils Tower, Wyoming, Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse Memorial, and Spearfish Canyon all in the Black Hills, and finally The Badlands National Park. My schedule was tight, but I had planned this trip to maximize my riding and my stops.  The hardest part would be crossing the 400 miles of prairie between Sioux Falls and Rapid City.  As I arrived in Rapid City, I sensed my trip with a deeper appreciation that my goal was coming true.

Me at Devils Tower

I headed out Monday with my first goal of Devils Tower.  An enormous natural statue of rock, this monument has been the stuff of legends.  I recognized it as a symbol of what my ride would become.  It was clear and sunny, and I was ready more than I could have every hoped.  I stopped briefly in Sturgis, South Dakota, which has become a mecca for just about anyone with a motorcycle these days.  Noting the endless stream of bars, eateries, and tourist traps, I quickly marked this destination off the list.  The rally that is held every year here brings hundreds of thousands of bikers from around the globe, but today, I was the only bike in town really.  After I “toured” that tiny town, I continued west to Sundance, Wyoming, and then pulling northward to Devils Tower.  The views of the tower were impeccably breathtaking.  At first it hung low, but as I rode closer, the horizon became filled with its beauty.  I entered the park at the base of the tower, and rode to the visitor’s station, where I picked up my very first passport stamp, a small but precious prize serving as a reminder of my trip.  I spent two hours taking in the view, getting those much needed pictures, and speaking with other visitors who were there.  I noted that as I arrived, I was trembling with excitement, a sure sign that this trip would be well worth the wait.  Soon, though, I was forced to pack my camera up, and head back to Rapid City.  I barely remember my ride back, as my memories swelled from my visit, but I also knew the nest day would be even better.

Mount Rushmore

My next day had two stops planned.  The first would be Mount Rushmore, a remarkable statue carved into the stone mountain face of four presidents.  This was an obvious choice for anyone visiting the Black Hills.  My trip would only take about 40 minutes, but on this day I would stay in the park for four hours.  Again, as I retrieved my cameras, my hands were shaking again from the sheer excitement and thrill that my third goal had been met, and I had arrived safely.  After retrieving my second passport stamp from the Park Office, I walked into the viewing area, where I got a clear and unobstructed view of the statue.  It was a week day so the park was not full, but this day was a clear warm day, and the view was perfect.  I absorbed every detail, relished every picture, even spoke with those mingling in the amphitheater.  As it turned out, an older retired couple with their friends from, of all places, Dubuque, Iowa were there as well, and we spoke for several minutes about the trip, the park, and the experiences of getting there.  I almost wanted to stay longer, but quickly realized that I had one more stop planned.  Walking back to my bike, I looked out beyond the parking lot, and the view was so clear you could actually see The Badlands.  After packing up, I made my way out, made one more stop for pictures, and rode on to my next visit.

Crazy Horse Memorial

About 14 miles southwest of Mount Rushmore is a new memorial being carved in another mountain called Crazy Horse Memorial. This is the realization of a dream of Chief Standing Bear, a Lakota Sioux chief who presented the idea to a Polish descended American named Korczak Ziółkowski. At first the idea seemed implausible, but eventually, Ziółkowski began work on the project in 1948. Working alone, he gathered the tools and the supplies he would need to start. An old air compressor, a generator, jack hammers, dynamite, all paid for with his own money. His effort started by building a ladder of 741 steps, and each day he would start with climbing those steps, going down to restart the compressor, then back up, sometimes 9 or 10 times a day. Ziółkowski passed away in 1982, but work on the statue continues today, The memorial, however, is not a national park. It receives no government assistance, no monies, or grants from any government agency. Instead the work is all privately funded, and continues today in the hopes that the dream of Chief Standing Bull thru the efforts of the entire Ziółkowski family will be realized. While I didn’t stay as long, I was deeply moved by the effort of that one man in Korczak Ziółkowski, and what the early days of his work were like climbing each of those 741 steps every day. As I packed and rode off, my only thought was what this world would be like if more of us could make that kind of effort.

Spearfish Canyon Scenic View

My last day in the Black Hills was on a ride through Spearfish Canyon.  This is a scenic ride through some of the beauty that lays in the Black Hills.  I was in no particular hurry this day, and made many stops and spent a lot of time just taking it all in.  I could almost feel a supernatural presence guiding me through each curve, and could almost hear native chanting in the cliffs above.  I felt as if I was being watched by the masses of native Americans who hold this place in such high regard.  It was a truly surreal experience, and after I stopped at the south end of the canyon, I struck up a conversation with other Harley riders who said the same thing.  There is a spirit about that place, and I could feel that spirit around every turn.  One rider suggested another route for the path leading to Rapid City.  Nemo Road takes you into the eastern side of the Black Hills, and many of the valleys are used today for cattle grazing and horses.  This road would test my skills as a motorcyclist, so I took it slow at first, then gaining confidence in my skills and the machine I pushed a bit harder, taking curve after curve a little better and more skillfully.  As I coasted down the last stretch into Rapid City, I was covered with sweat, but smiled as I realized that my goal had come true.

Devils Tower Landscape

One-Zero Zero One-Zero Zero-One
S.O.S
One-Zero Zero One-Zero Zero-One
In distress

 (Neil Peart – “The Body Electric”)

Marilyn at Devils Tower

As with all things, I realized my trip was almost at an end.  Because the weather had been so good, I didn’t look at the forecast much until after I returned from Spearfish Canyon.  Rain, wind, and severe storms were forecast for western South Dakota.  That forced me to make two decisions. One I would be forced to skip my ride through the Badlands.  This was an important goal in my trip, but I also realized that being caught in a thunderstorm in that area could be dangerous.  There is simply nowhere for a motorcycle to hide in that kind of weather in that area.  My second decision was to try to make it back to Cedar Rapids in one day.  That meant riding 700 miles alone across three states.  Ordinarily that would not be a problem, but on the day I left Rapid City, that would become impossible.  I was not even 50 miles east of Rapid City and began running into heavy winds blowing from south to north across the highway.  Some winds gusting as high as 50 mph in places.  This wasn’t in the Rapid City forecast, but later checking saw that it was in the forecast for points east of there.  In my haste to get home ahead of the thunderstorms I failed to check the forecast where I was riding through, and was now caught on my bike in the middle of a windstorm that covered almost the entire area lying west of the Mississippi River.

Marilyn and I at
Profile Viewpoint,
Mt Rushmore

Riding in high wind can be a dangerous proposition.  I had just traded in my Heritage Softail for a much newer, and bigger, Ultra Classic Electraglide.  In high wind, the bike became a sail.  It took almost all my strength to keep the bike upright and straight.  In some places I literally locked my right arm out straight against the right side handlebar grip while holding the left grip in place and steering on the left side.  The wind was blowing the bike all over the road, and semi traffic made things even worse.  My body was literally being pummeled by the wind as if Rocky Balboa and Muhammed Ali were punching my body almost mercilessly.  My helmet kept rocking back and forth from the gusts, and at times it sounded like Neil Peart himself was using the top of my helmet for a drum set. I could go 140 miles on a tank, low mileage for my bike, but I found I needed the rest every two hours to keep up. I took some comfort in crossing the Missouri River, but by the time I reached Jackson, Minnesota, I had ridden thru rain, wind, dust storm, tumbleweed clouds, and flying cornstalks.  I was exhausted, I knew it, and I still had a bit over 200 miles to go.  Fortunately, a little wisdom, and coaxing on my cell call to home made me realize the old adage “discretion is the better part of valor”, and rather than continue riding towards home, I found a Super 8 hotel close by, got a room, and collapsed.  I nearly skipped dinner, but also knew I needed to recharge a bit.  A walleye dinner at the local diner, followed by a nice hot shower helped.  I knew, though, the next day would be the same.

Sunrise at Jackson, Minnesota

The next morning I set out towards home.  I had a decent breakfast of a bowl of cereal, a banana, and some orange juice.  Pulling the bike upright, I noted the sky was filled with a beautiful sunrise.  The wind, however, had only subsided a little, and I was back to wrestling with wind and machine.  The trip home seemed like days, but in reality only took a bit over four hours.  A quick stop for gas and a Gatorade in Mason City helped to recharge my energy, although a rather arrogant woman in a brand new Cadillac SUV reminded me that some people have no grasp of what they do.  Apparently she wanted my Harley out of her way, parking a scant six inches from my front tire in the line at the pump, and then gunning her engine and honking her horn until I got out of her way.  I guess some folks are just born that way.  Pulling back onto the highway, I was thankful I didn’t confront her, but a little upset she almost hit the bike.

Coming up to Mt Rushmore

Finally about noon time I made it to my exit for home.  I was worn out and dog tired.  I had accomplished so much on my trip, but the ride home took most of the fun out of it all.  As I pulled into the driveway at home, Mary and I met with a warm hug.  It had been a long trip, but also the realization that I had accomplished a goal.  I didn’t even unpack the bike, rather leaving it in the garage packed.  There is a thankfulness you feel after a long ride, and I remember telling my wife “Thank goodness I am alive”.  The winds I had ridden through were dangerous.  I could have been hurt, but I also knew that I had just proved to myself I could adapt and overcome those obstacles.  I had realized that no matter what challenges lie ahead, it’s how we meet those challenges that means the most.  It’s the journey, not the destination.  There will be more trips, more goals, more riding, indeed more tales on the trails.  I am lucky have such a family who understands those desires to travel, but even more important to support and help me achieve those goals.

We are at our very best, and we are happiest, when we are fully engaged in work we enjoy on the journey toward the goal we've established for ourselves. It gives meaning to our time off and comfort to our sleep. It makes everything else in life so wonderful, so worthwhile.

                                    (Earl Nightingale)

Sioux Falls Dinner Photos

Black Hills Vacation Photos

Peace & Love Everybody!

What "9-11" Means to Me

United Flight 11 September 11, 2001
Photo from www.september11news.com

Escorting the body of
PO1 Tumilson home.

The other day I was talking to someone I know well.  I don't wish to really embarrass this person, but they made a comment to me that just floored me.  Our conversation was on my efforts to support the mission of the Patriot Guard Riders.  Eventually we discussed the upcoming 9-11 Remembrance ceremonies scheduled, and he remarked that he was "..quite tired of all that fuss over a couple of buildings".  I felt like someone had just punched my gut.  I walked away from him, and we haven't discussed much since.  I simply could not believe how utterly arrogant his comment was.  It flew in the face of all those people who died not only in the Twin Towers, but those aircraft, and even the over 6000 military lives lost pursuing justice since that day.   To that end, instead of focusing on me, my life, my family, my Harley (more on that later!), and my sometimes rather nonsensical gibberish on life here in Iowa, I decided I would write about what 9-11 means to me.

Funeral for PO1 Tumilson

That day plays in my mind like a movie.  I had just gotten my job with the D.O.T. not maybe 8 months earlier.  I had started my day like any other, brought my cup of coffee - only one - in to work along with some project files for my consulting work.  There wasn't anyone in my particular office area, although I could hear some mumbling out in the hallway about a plane.  At the time I had thought a Cessna aircraft had gotten lost in the fog and clipped the towers.  At about 7:42 AM, I remember because I looked at the clock on my computer, Mary called to tell me a larger commercial airliner had hit the Twin Towers.  The thoughts in my head were all over the place.  Maybe the pilot had a heart attack, perhaps the plane had suffered a mechanical malfunction.  Mary told me she loved me, but I could tell she was a bit upset, so as I hung up, I tried to look up something on the CNN website.  It was not responding.  Lets try ABC, NBC, CBS.  All were so overloaded they were simply unable to load anything.  Finally a coworker came in and told me a plane had hit the Towers.  As we walked to the break room, where other coworkers were watching on our tv, I just was not mentally prepared for what I would see in the next hour.



Flag line for PO1 Tumilson

To say I was shocked might be understating the obvious.  The weather was clear over New York.  Clearer than usual I thought.  Then the images started coming in of the tower, and the impact scene on the Tower.  I had taken some time while I served in the navy to visit New York a number of times.  I never got tired of that city.  I have been to the Towers, the Empire State Building, Macys, you name it.  One particular time I had gotten a little lost in Manhattan, and two police officers guided me back to Penn Station, where I eventually found my way back to Queens where I was staying with friends.  As I watched those scenes coming in, I recalled my old friends, and hoped that none of THEM were in those towers.  We continued to watch replays over and over of that first tower, until suddenly Katie Couric ( we all know her!) suddenly said "Oh My God - there is another plane!" and not two seconds later the second impact on the second tower exploded in a ball of flame, and for what seemed like hours no one on tv, in the break room, not even on the street, could so much as utter anything at all.




The Pentagon Sept. 11. Photo by
 www.september11news.com

The next hours included watching the towers fall, the reports of the attack on the Pentagon, and the demise of Flight 93.  I remember thinking about the many thousands of people who worked in those towers.  I remember the sickening images of people plunging to their death from the top of the towers.  I remember it like it was yesterday.  That night too, I was almost sickened by the images and videos that continued to play on the tv, all over the news, even between friends.  That evening I was asked by my business associate to measure pavement quantities in a newer subdivision we had been working on.  I remember making those measurements at dusk, and looking up to see nothing but empty sky.  Not one aircraft was flying that night.  I remember taking pavement measurements in the view of the headlights of my truck, and just in disbelief than any human being would be capable of such utter atrociousness as to drive a plane purposely into a building.  ANY building.  I am not normally a vengeful man.  I may have problems with my temper on occasion, but that day for the first time I wanted to take the life of another person. 


In the days, weeks, months, and years since, our country has brought those responsible to justice.  The price for that has been not only the 2973 lives lost that day, but the over 6000 military lives lost since.   To me, however, the toll that not only our country but our allies have paid has been most steep.  It is not only to them I speak but the families of each one who has given the sacrifice of their life in the defense of every liberty we as common American citizens partake of each day.  It is the Canadian people, the British, even the Australians who have stood with us, and defended our freedoms and theirs.  It is to each of them I say "Thank You" for your service to your country and mine, for defending freedom, and for standing in harm's way on your watch as in the same manner that members of my family and I stood our watches.  It is those reasons that I give thanks every day, and in the hope that we never face the threat of terror or oppression again.

Peace and Love everybody!

Jokes and Spokes

Cheyenne on her 17th Birthday with Jesse

Thank goodness - at least in my neck of the woods, that heat is gone.  Replaced by sunny, but kinder and gentler temps.  At 85 degrees, I begin to melt, but at 95 degrees, brain cells are frying, blood pressure is boiling, and its just no fun.  In fact, in my house - it is the most JOYOUS time of year.  School!  Cheyenne - the youngest - will be a senior, and she just turned 17 August 3rd.  So hard to believe my baby is in her last year of high school.  Seems like just yesterday she was pooping all over my brand new tennis shoes as I tried, unsuccessfully, to change her diapers.  My parents celebrated 44 years of "wedded bliss"?  Ok - we'll call it marital togetherness.  Never really understood the word bliss when it involves marriage.  And finally - football!  My favorite time of year!

Clowning around in the Emergency
Room after I got a little hot last month

Now - I know some of you are looking at the title of this segment, probably thinking "Here he goes - flyiin' off his rocker again!", but sometimes circumstances being what they are, you have to find humor in your life when things aren't going so well.  This month, for whatever reason, it has been a couple weeks filled with challenges.  It isn't anything we cannot overcome, mind you, but at some point the challenges get to be a bit of a strain.  My business associate says when life gets you down, find something to laugh about.  This month, with all the challenges we have had, it seems like all you CAN do is laugh, because if you start thinking about it all, well, break out the hankies.  Challenges tend to be a way to make life interesting.  If we didn't have a challenge tossed at us from time to time what would life be? 

Mowing the yard at my office. Hey - at
least it gets me OUT for a few hours.

I'll start with jokes.  Last week we received a certified letter from the most ghoulish of places - the Internal Revenue Service!  Very interesting letter.  Made up some claim that a credit we claimed back in 2008 would not be granted.  It involved the purchase of our home, and the First Time Homebuyer Tax Credit.  After rifling through all of the needed forms, documents, letters, bank statements, Letters to Santa, that missing IOU for a bottle of scotch, I found the document, proving my taxes were filed correctly.  Today, however, we got a second letter, to the tune of over $9,000.  Cue the clowns!  So we called those "wonderful" folks at the IRS.  Stayed on hold over 40 minutes waiting to speak with someone.  Finally our patience paid off.  We verified some personal info, explained our issue, and was put on hold.  After what seemed like an eternity, the rep came back on and told us to disregard the letters due to an IRS "glitch"?!  We would be receiving a letter shortly that would absolve us of any wrongdoing.  Now - here is the FUNNY part.  All the while we were on hold, their on air background music was playing, of all things, "The Nutcracker Suite".  Whoever picks their music selections needs a good swift kick in the heehaws!

A 2012 Road King, in Big Blue Pearl,
during a recent test ride. Love the color.

Spokes!  Melissa, my beloved Harley, is not doing well.  The tapping noise from the engine has returned.  It isn't a catastrophic thing yet, after all, she starts she runs, but at some point I will have to come to a decision.  Complete engine overhauls are spendy.  Trading in for a newer bike may be my only option in part because it would probably be quite a bit less expensive than a new or remanufactured engine.  The advantages of a new bike are pretty obvious, but couple those with a 2 year warranty, and all that nickel and dimeing pretty much goes away along with the headaches and the cramping and the nausea.  The 2012 models just came out, too, and all the new Harleys with saddlebags are coming with the 103 cubic inch engine - something that I would love to have under me.  Not only are these loaded with pulling power, but they are including a new internal oil cooler, which can save a lot of wear and tear on that engine as well.  I have spied a couple of the new models out, and the new color schemes and the larger engine are attractive.  I had hoped to wait at least another year, but I also have plans to tour around South Dakota (not during Bike Week - are you nuts!), would like to take a trip to the Mackinac Bridge, perhaps even a trip to Colorado and Utah! Places like the Grand Canyon, The Arches National Park, even Yellowstone are all on the bucket list.

PO1 Jon Tumilson from
Rockford, Iowa

I want to mention in parting our recent loss of 30 Navy Seal team members in Afghanistan.  I cannot recall such a loss of life that would ripple throughout the military community.  The effects are felt everywhere, even the National Guardsmen mention it will be tough to replace such uniquely skilled men.  One such sailor is Petty Officer First Class Jon Tumilson, from a little town called Rockford, Iowa.  Funerals for these men will begin this week, and I would hope that we all can reflect upon the freedoms that are defended by men such as these.  As a former sailor myself, it is especially hard to accept that men such as these were lost in such great numbers, literally defenseless against a single rocket attack.  I mourn their passing, and I will look to attend Petty Officer Tumilson's funeral this week.





Peace and Love Everybody!

My Ranting Temper

This will be short, brief - to the point.  I was watching TV last night with Mary.  Normally - we watch racing.  Its our thing....grown men driving in circles with nothing better to do than try to sell me battery operated underwear and butt cream for babies.  Its just amazing what someone will put on the side of a race car and the depths to which those guys will sell themselves for nothing other than to ride around in circles.  What does that say about people who watch them!!!  What can I say - I am easily amused by the travelling carnival show called NASCAR..

Somehow, I managed to catch some news about this debt debate in Washington, and nothing is making me more stressed than those blundering idiots giving my money to the Polish government to study cow flatulence.  Or writing an open check to the Pentagon to build the next new superweapon.  And guess who gets to pay for it?  Why - you and I.  OF COURSE, right?  Well, after watching an hour of CNN and seeing them march senators and representatives in front of their cameras, pointing fingers and blame at everyone BUT themselves, I finally decided to spend my own 30 seconds in front of a camera.  This is my version of "I have had ENOUGH of this"!  Just click on the link, and it should take you to a youtube video I recently posted about how I feel about this whole debt ceiling and crisis and politicians and.....well, just watch. 

The Ranting

Peace & Love Everybody!

Hot Turkey Comin' Thru!

SFC Terryl Pasker

If you haven't melted under your house yet from all this heat, I am guessing you live in a freezer or Antarctica.  Its the summer time heat I hate the most and man is it ever in full force in my neck of the woods.  Even looking at my Harley is making my face cook and my legs fry.  And as if it wasn't bad enough, I just got my electric bill, and I must say that AC feels nice until you get the bill.  Add to that the 15% rate hike and all the fees, and you have the makings of a revolt.  Its only money, right?  I mean, really - how many folks think like that?  Well, I know one, and his humor isn't making me laugh right now.  I know - stop your whining guy - its making me sweat.  I guess I can't do much else about it, so I'll just have to live with it and be thankful for the house and the AC I have.

Welcome Home!

Riding has been awfully hot lately.  I commute to and from work, and then work most of the weekend so I don't have as much time riding, but I did one Welcome Home for a National Guard unit, and rode in escort for a military funeral this month.  Lots of soldiers coming home from Afghanistan this month.  Lots of families reunited which is always great to see.  The unit I escorted home was deployed over a year, and they looked good, albeit a bit tired.  As the troop of Patriot Guard Riders walked in, we were greeted with a very warm standing ovation.  Believe it or not I feel a bit embarrassed by all that attention.  The troops deserve more attention than I do, but it goes with the territory.  I remember when I served - we never got the welcome the guys now get.  In their defense they earned every second of it.

Arrival at Welcome Home - The press trucks!

A view from the windshield just for escort departure

Lined up to escort SFC Pasker

With the good, also must come the bad.  SFC Terryl Pasker was killed by an Afghan security guard while serving in Afghanistan.  For reasons not yet known the guard opened fire on two of our soldiers, killing SFC Pasker before being fatally shot by the second man in the same vehicle with SFC Pasker.  I decided to ride in escort of the remains and do funeral escort knowing the conditions would be quite hot.  The body was returned on July 15th, and about 30 bikes showed up to support the escort.  The ride itself was quite uneventful, and even noticed full semis pulling over to salute the fallen soldier, and a couple times actually blocking traffic for us while we escorted by.  While we did witness a number of folks showing their respect, there is always one or two idiots who just insist on being jerks, but with police escorting the motorcade, I noted one unlucky imbecile who was pulled over for failure to yield to a patrol officer.  Other than that we arrived in good order, rendered honors to the family and returned to our normal duties.




Pre Ride Briefing and prayer


The funeral escort took place July 18th, and with all the excessive heat warnings out, I took extra steps to make sure I was fully hydrated, even skipping my usual one cup of coffee to avoid the caffeine.  I took one quart of ice water with as a precaution, and headed out.  After a mix up in meeting places, I finally found the group, including a beautifully prepared  Freightliner semi that paid honor to the fallen heroes we escort.  What a beautiful truck!  We lined up and headed for the church, and got in our usual flag line, and that when the heat started taking a bit of a toll.  I drank my ice water, and three additional bottles of water.  I felt OK but it was becoming obvious the heat was going to be bad.  I took on some peanut butter crackers just to keep some calories in my stomach, but we waited a long long time for the services to conclude.  After one more bottle of water, we waited another 30 minutes before we started to head out to the cemetery.  At about the halfway point I realized I wasn't feeling right, but continued assuming we would have a chance for more water.  By the time we lined up and waited for everyone to arrive, it was 97 degrees, and I knew something was wrong, and as the service started, I looked at one of the fellow riders and asked for help. 



Standing Flag Line - HOT!!



I am doing better, well, the heart rate calmed down anyways.  The next day I decided as a safety measure to take a day off and try to let my body recover a bit.  In looking back, several things contributed to this.  One was the mistake of wearing a leather vest - a black leather vest, with a black tshirt, and not leaving the vest off during the flag line.  The other was the excessive time it took to get the funeral motorcade moving and the lengthy amount of time it took for everyone to gather, in effect prolonging the time we were standing in the heat.  The last was my caloric intake for the day was minimal.  My mistake was assuming we would be done by lunch time.  I had only one slice of peanut butter toast and some crackers.  My body was eating up more than I was taking in.  After conferring with the doctor, I was released to go home, but my days of doing that kind of thing are pretty much over.  The worry now is now that this has happened once, it can happen more frequently and could be damaging to my heart if allowed to go unchecked.  I am also told that I need to cut down on my stress level some.  This means no more jumping up and down screaming like a maniac when Michigan or Oregon loses a football game.  That means no more getting wound up about a car race.  That means that as much as my coworkers tick me off I must refrain from my usual "teddy bear" demeanor.  No more road rage, and no more arguments with Mary.  Well, lets not get carried away!



Truck leading the funeral motorcade

As for Mary - her pain has returned.  AGAIN!  Now the neurosurgeon wants to implant a nerve stimulator.  Not really sure what that will do, but results seem to be good with it.  The schedule is still iffy, but it looks like another three weeks off for recovery assuming all goes well.  The last surgery she needed more time to recover, so we will see how that goes.  She has been at work for about 3 weeks now, and she has been doing better, but the pain just keeps coming back.  As it turns out, her condition is degenerative, and genetic.  Her father had a similar condition, and suffered terribly from the constant back pain.  In those days they did not have the extensive treatments that are available today.  The surgery in January did relieve the pain in two areas, but this is a new area, and the condition will continue to work its was thru the back.  The kids are taking it well.  Jesse is working at Wal Mart while she contemplates her next "career" move.  She realizes school is important, but getting back is another matter.  Cheyenne - well, she has this disease - senioritis! She will be 17 in a few weeks, and she is already looking into graphic design.  I have watched her on the computer, and she does have an eye for it.  How we'll get the tuition, well, that's another story.



Arrival at Funeral Services



I was going to chat a few words about those yaywhos in Washington, but I think we're all hot enough under the collar about THAT!



Ahhhh Old Man Winter!!!

Peace & Love Everybody!

Freedom Rings!

My stop on the Minnesota State Line

July 4th - the day we all as Americans celebrate our "independence", and a day we reflect on the freedoms we all enjoy.  Its amazing what you think about on the Harley - riding through the county roads, drifting around corners effortlessly, gazing over the landscape as you crest a hilly knoll.  Taking in the scenes, the aromas of summertime plumage.  Today is July 4th, and as usual, I took in a rather lengthy 450 miles on Melissa yesterday thinking about life, liberty, my own personal pursuit of happiness gone awry.  Spending some time NOT at my desk, but rather just getting away for a day to pause and take stock in the things I enjoy most - my wife, my daughters, family, friends.  This year has been a very testing and trying time for Mary Lou and I, but not without its rewards.  Even as I write, Mary is preparing to finally, we hope, return to work.  Our test has come full circle, we hope, but the time to celebrate is today - when we all must remember to thank those who have given us the freedoms we enjoy.  Who have sacrificed of themselves in some way to serve our country.  The next time you see a soldier, a sailor, an airman - thank THEM for their service, to our nation.  You'll be glad you did.

Found this sign in a little river resort
stop.  Almost think  this belongs
somewhere in Washington DC.

My riding has been, well, not riding.  Lately work has so overtaken my life that I am feeling a bit overwhelmed.  I get up, go to work, come home, work some more, and collapse at 11:30 PM, only to rise at 5:30 AM the next morning and start all over.  That's not a life.  I finally decided to give myself a long weekend this July 4th and took a day to do nothing but ride.  Anywhere really, but this trip I went to Minnesota.  The route was not really meticulously planned, but I knew the area I wanted to ride - along the Mississippi River.  Some of the views this fall will be even better, but the route is very curvy and challenging, something I needed to take my mind off work.  Riding a bigger bike can be challenging anyway, but this route would help me understand weaknesses I have in my riding skills, so that I can work on those.  Fortunately, the only weakness I found was turning around from a wrong turn, but the riding was excellent.  Lots of viewing, some rocky cliffs overlooking the route, hilly peaks and curving cliffs made for an exciting way to spend an afternoon.   Finally after about four hours I ended up feeling a bit hungry and found a place to eat and call home.  Unfortunately I cut my trip short after finding out that I might run into rain on my way home if I had gone a different route, but instead I altered my planned route home and took the OTHER scenic route home - along the east side of the Mississippi.  Again - the views of the Mississippi River Valley are impressive, and even seeing the barge traffic was neat.  Still have to work on my navigation skills, though, as I took a couple more wrong turns, and was forced to turn back.  Note - if anyone is wondering, a great Christmas gift for me would be a navigation unit for my bike!

The GPS monument set by the
County.  The number will help
to locate the correct notes.

I did stop once to locate one site that has a personal interest to me, and the work I do as a land surveyor.  In September 2010, the local newspaper did an article about a survey of the original Iowa-Minnesota border in 1852.   The starting spot for that survey was a 12 inch x 12 inch oak post and was the starting point that crews used to begin the survey of the state boundary line.  Since that time, the original post has long since rotted away and was lost for a lengthy time, but last July, a crew of ten students led by one of the senior surveyors in the state restored the monument with a new one, which is located in a park just north of the town of New Albin, Iowa - a town that sits just south of the Iowa Minnesota border.  I didn't locate the post, but did locate a GPS survey marker in that same park area.  I will most likely return, after contacting that surveyor in hope that I can navigate to the post and write a short story about my findings.

One of the many rocky bluffs foound
along the Mississippi River - this one
in Winona, Minnesota.

Stay safe everyone - and Happy Fourth of July!

Peace and Love!