Blog
A Scary Time, Photo by Danziger
Snick. With the push of a button, the garage door descended. Snick. With another button, my new acquisition, a 2005 Honda ST1300, purred into life. By day’s end, we rode 340 miles through the mountains and valleys and beaches, the ranches and farms and cities of Ventura and Kern Counties. But now all of us lay face down, kissing concrete, with multiple pistols pointed at our heads, with tense faces behind them.
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McDonald Creek
On a late June morning we fired up the bikes and rode out of Kalispell, Montana about 7:00 AM. It soon hit me that the day was a microcosm of life. I expected great things about Glacier National Park, but early indications didn’t encourage me. The chill of 51 degrees cut deep, even through our leathers and layers of clothing, and we had to endure 30 miles of mostly urban traffic before approaching the park. So far, the shivers from cold and the frustrations from traffic seemed like a typical day. Nothing awesome, just unpleasant conditions.
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Photo courtesy of JimMcDermott
Five of us, self-named the “The Gray Hogs,” rode to Yellowstone National Park and the Black Hills of South Dakota in late June, 2011. The hair color of Jerry, Mick, Brad, Dave and I certainly had earned the term gray, and a photo taken later Aspen caused my wife to remark that we’d all been hogs more than once in our lives.