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Our annual cross country biker group calls itself the Gray Hogs, in a veiled allusion to Tim Allen’s movie Wild Hogs. Two prime requirements to be a Hog: you don’t need to belong to the Harley Owners’ Group, just pack a few extra pounds, and to sport some gray hair. Oh yeah, and to ride a bike and to get along with the charter members.
Even so, old totally dominated a day on our recent ride to the Taos NM area. We visited ...
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Honestly, I never thought of stopping nor turning back. But 450 miles of misery to start the motorcycle trip did wear on me. I’d pulled out of my garage about 5:15 in the morning, and slogged through 80 miles of metropolitan Los Angeles before meeting Mick and Brad at Cajon Pass on I-15. Metro freeway does not qualify as my favored mode. But the metro yielded to desert and desert brought heat and by the time we got to Vegas the bike’s thermometer bumped 100. 11AM.
Lunch at In-and-Out cooled us a bit, but the temp had risen to 105, with 170 miles to go. The temp climbed with the altitude until it maxed at 109. 30 miles from Cedar City it began to cool, and the 99 felt almost chilly. Note the almost. Our motel’s cool pool finished lowering our body temps, and we walked to a nice café next door for dinner.
That night ...
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Mark Twain, one of America’s wittiest authors, proclaimed that “The man who is a pessimist before 48 knows too much; if he is an optimist after it he knows too little.” Well, I’m over 48. Well over. Yet I find a blend of both pessimism and optimism within myself. Pessimism: about how America is abandoning widespread cultural values in place of subjective ethics; about the rise in violent crime, particularly in young adults; about growing alcohol and drug abuse. Optimism: about God working in the midst of a dark world and bringing eventual justice and victory.
Pontificating on the source of evil in the world tempts me...
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Virginia Creek Settlement
Relaxing in the small cabin, the novel I’d been reading for pleasure began to bore me, so I pulled out my J.B. Phillips version of the New Testament. Now, you gotta understand the context. I’ve read the Bible a lot. Pastoring for several decades, writing Christian books, teaching in a Christian school and an adult Bible study class tend to encourage that. And, even though much of the reading is “professional,” I always ran the text through the grid of my life before sharing it with others.
But this differed...
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Grateful Dead album cover
No, as much as I loved their music, this post won’t focus on the Grateful Dead band and their fans. Sorry to all the deadheads, but the allusion is unavoidable for a 60s child! As we prepped our house for an overnight visit from my sister, her husband, and her friend, I got the task of “deadheading” our eight Iceberg roses in the front yard. Icebergs produce abundant white roses, flowers that die and need to be pruned for new blooms to blossom. Hence the name “deadheading:” taking some clippers and sniping off all the rose heads now dead.
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Rock Creek, by Bradley Cleveland
Even when loving people, I need relief from them. Even when loving the comforts of civilization, like warm showers and soft beds, I need the relief of more primitive living. Even when loving the ease of modern life, I need the relief of challenge. Of going up high. Of going beyond beaten paths.
Two points. At least, that’s the plan right now
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Michael Sam, from the baltimoresun.com
When I ride the motorcycle to work, I pray and meditate. When taking the Mustang, I listen to sports radio. This last week, Colin Cowherd of ESPN talked about the differing responses to the NFL drafting Michael Sam, the first openly gay draftee. He noticed those over 65 tended to feel uncomfortable, while those under 30 didn’t see it as an issue. Yeah, the repeatedly televised kiss played a key role.
“Generational differences” was his conclusion...
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While my wife celebrated a few days away with a girlfriend, I figured to pop a surprise on her Mother’s Day return with the installation of a new faucet for the master bathroom. Several complications soon arose. The old house had some funky modifications over the years, and one was the drain trap, a strange conglomeration of plastic and brass and mismatched parts. The threads got stripped, and it took four trips to Home Depot to finally get the correct set up. Eventually I had to replace the entire trap: cutting the outlet pipe, putting in an extension, gluing it into place. That two hour project took nearly an entire day. But the faucet does look nice.
The second complication also came from age. My own.
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