Passes & Canyons Blog

That’s Johnathon’s Virago before it fell. That’s Johnathon on the left, next to his dad.

Have you ever parked your motorcycle and come back to it later to find it laying on the ground? If you ride a Harley, probably not. Those broad, sweeping kickstands hold things really solidly. Not so much with a lot of other bikes. But sometimes even Harleys can fall.

On the second ever OFMC trip we were headed back into Colorado from New Mexico when we got caught in a cloudburst. We just rode through it and we dried off quickly enough but by the time we reached Alamosa that moisture and subsequent evaporation combined to bring us hypothermia. We headed for the nearest coffee shop and sat there for two hours drinking pot after pot of coffee, trying to stop shaking.

As an aside, coffee is not the best thing to drink in this situation. You’ll get a lot better results if you drink something like hot chocolate. Just FYI.

When we finally got warmed up we figured it was time to find a motel, so we walked on out to the bikes. Well, guess what. This coffee shop’s parking lot was newly repaved and the day was a really hot one. John’s kickstand, which was pretty vertical with a small foot, had sunk right into that asphalt and his bike had toppled over onto Bill’s, with both of them going down.

OK, lesson learned. From then on when it was hot and we were on asphalt we knew to find a flattened aluminum can or a broad rock or something to put under the stand. Later we all acquired pucks to carry with us. We do learn.

A couple years later, on a trip where John’s son Johnathon was with us, we were up in Idaho, heading north from Arco. At some point we spotted a nice, shady spot to pull over and take a break. We weren’t on pavement or rock but no big deal. Until, as we lounged there taking it easy, there came a crash. Johnathon’s bike–the one that had been John’s and knocked Bill’s bike over previously, had sunk into the soft dirt and gone down. At least no other bikes were involved and Johnathon, too, now learned the lesson.

A couple years after that, with Dennis now part of the group, we were up in Wyoming in the Bighorn Mountains. We stayed at a lodge where the people were so creepy it gave us thoughts of the Stephen King novel and movie, “The Shining,” but that’s a whole other story.

It rained hard that night. No problem, the parking lot was gravel. Well, maybe gravel and sand. And Dennis came out in the morning to find his Gold Wing laying on its side, with the kickstand sunk deeply into the more sand than gravel spot where he left it. Dang.

Now, those are the kinds of falls that even a Harley would be vulnerable to, because when the ground is soft even something broad and flat will sink. But it’s especially likely with a very vertical stand with a small foot. Such as on my Honda CB750. Or my old Kawasaki Concours. Or my Suzuki V-Strom. Are you catching my drift?

It was not long at all after I first bought the CB750 that I rode over to meet John and his wife Cheryl at a park where they were watching Johnathon playing soccer. When I parked the bike the ground was sloped such that it was standing up pretty straight but I figured it would be fine. Wrong. We came back to the bike and there it was on the ground. Apparently just the wind was enough to tip it too far.

Then there was the day I was out on the Connie and parked along a street with a pretty good crown to it. Which is to say, with the kickstand on the left and a slope to the right, that bike was quite upright. And yeah, I came back to it and it was down.

And then later I got the V-Strom and on one of my first rides with it I was with a group down along the Platte River up in the hills and we pulled off by the river. I jockeyed that thing a good bit to be sure I had it somewhere where it would be OK but I misjudged. I got off, walked away, and had only gotten about 10 feet when there was this big crash behind me. Dang. Dang. Dang.

There have been others. And there’s always something that breaks. I guess it’s all just part of the expense of riding motorcycles. It sure has been for me.

Biker Quote for Today

100 reasons not to date a biker: 30. Yes, the bike gets a Christmas gift.

After our stupid joke Bill and I bought a round for the group in a bar in Medicine Bow.

If you ride in a group it’s the generally accepted practice that you are responsible for making sure the guy behind you is still there. And if he’s not you slow down to let him catch up, and if he still doesn’t show maybe you stop and wait. And if he still doesn’t show you go back.

My friend Jungle always says that if you stop you should wait five minutes before going back. If the guy behind is OK, five minutes won’t matter. If he’s dead it won’t matter either.

Now, that’s not to say that the OFMC has always followed this rule. I was heading west on I-70 behind Brett and Randy one time when I had a flat just east of Rifle. I pulled over but I couldn’t get off the bike because the road sloped away and if I put out my kickstand the bike was going to fall to the right. Fine, I’ll just wait here until they come back for me.

Well, they didn’t. After awhile I started waving at any bikers passing on the highway, hoping someone would stop to give me a hand. Several did pass, and seemed like they wanted to stop, but they were going fast and by the time they could have stopped they would have been a quarter mile down the road. But finally a couple did stop, and they started hoofing it back to where I was.

Just at that time a guy in a pick-up came along and he stopped. Do you need help? You bet I do. He helped me hoist the bike up onto the center stand, which is amazingly hard to do when you have a flat tire–not sure why. So by the time the biker couple got there all I could say was thanks a whole lot but I don’t need you any more. But thank you so much.

It turns out that Brett and Randy noticed I was not behind them so they pulled off at Rifle. But the exit goes downhill, to where you can’t see the vehicles passing by above on the highway. After sitting there a few minutes they decided I must have just gone on past them on the highway so they took off again. Wrong. Once I was finally able to rejoin the whole group the next day neither of them said one word, like “Oops” or “Sorry” or anything. Jungle told me, “You need new friends.”

Which brings me back to Bill and Ken’s really bad practical joke.

We were up in Wyoming one time coming down a highway in the middle of nowhere, me riding sweep and Bill just in front of me. We got to a fork and I don’t know how we knew this but we knew that if we took the fork to the right it would rejoin this same road a little further along. The other guys were going to the left. Presumably, considering when this was, Bill must have pulled over at the fork and when I pulled up next to him he suggested that we take this other road and ride fast and be waiting for them up ahead. A fun surprise.

So we peeled off and we got to where the roads rejoined and we sat and waited. And waited. And waited. Oops, you don’t suppose they noticed we weren’t there and are looking for us? Bill headed back on the road they were coming on while I sat at the intersection in case someone came the other way. And of course that’s what it was. They were looking all over for us, riding back the way we had all come and getting very concerned.

Considering how unorganized we were back then, the ploy might have worked except that just a quarter mile past the fork there was a rest area and the group pulled off. It was not hard to realize we were not there. Where are those guys? When did you see them last? They found out when Bill got all the way back to that spot.

They were not happy. They wouldn’t let us live that one down for a long time. What in the world made us think this would be a clever trick?

I do think that after my flat by Rifle everyone in the group really came to understand that you are responsible for keeping an eye on the guy behind you, so we’re not unteachable.

Biker Quote for Today

100 reasons not to date a biker: 20. We smell like leather and gasoline.

Those scuff marks show you exactly where Friggs’s face would have been ripped open.

The OFMC has never been as thoroughly safety-minded as the RMMRC but we’re human, we’re interested in preserving our own skins. So for 35 years we have ridden safely, with the worst crash being the one Friggs had in 2018 down in New Mexico. Very uncharacteristically, he had chosen that day to ride without his jacket but after going down his jeans were torn, his shirt was torn, and otherwise he was barely bruised. Amazingly.

The one thing that was badly damaged was his helmet. If you ever think a helmet is unneeded, just take a look at a helmet that has been through a serious crash. Then think about what that head underneath would have been like without it.

Now sure, everyone has dropped their bike in a parking lot or that sort of thing. Nobody’s gotten hurt. In all these years no one other than Friggs has ever gone down, which probably makes us one heck of a fortunate bunch. But we have had some close calls.

Probably the closest, the one that most likely could have led to death, was Dennis up in the Black Hills in 2014. We were staying several days in Hill City, doing day rides, and we were out on one of the many great roads up there and stopped at an intersection of two highways. We did whatever needed doing and were getting geared up and back on the bikes.

We were on one side of the road but needed to go the other way so I pulled out across the road onto the shoulder on the other side, facing the other direction. Dennis was the next to get ready. Now, you have to understand, Dennis is short. He had all the other guys between him and the road so he couldn’t really see up the road. There were also all these Harleys making a heck of a racket so he couldn’t hear anything either. He started across the road to join me.

What Dennis could not see, but all the rest of us did, was the semi coming right toward him. I know I was screaming but what good does that do? He couldn’t hear me. The others were screaming, too, and then there was the screeching of the brakes on that big truck. Did I mention that Dennis is also hard of hearing?

He got about halfway across the road and looked to his left and saw this truck screeching up toward him. His heart must have stopped for a moment. Fortunately the trucker was able to stop in time but for a moment it looked like the worst was about to happen. We didn’t ever want to see something like that again.

But then apparently it happened again, and this time it was me. I say “apparently” because I was totally oblivious to it all. I knew nothing until the guys told me later.

This was in 2023 up in the far northwest corner of Wyoming. I was leading and we were looking for a place for lunch. We came up on a restaurant but I couldn’t tell if it was open until I was past it. The other guys pulled over. I pulled over to turn around and go back. What they tell me is that as I pulled back onto the highway there was a car coming fast that I pulled right in front of. And that guy braked really hard. Yikes! I don’t see how that could have happened. It’s not like I don’t look both ways before pulling out, you know. But I got to the parking lot and Bill and Dennis both started yelling wildly and I had to ask what they were so excited about. Really? That happened? Big oops.

Then later on this same trip Bill had his moment but it was not of his doing. We were now in Idaho cruising down this highway with me in the lead, then Bill, then Dennis. A car passed me going the other way and then turned left right in front of Bill. You know the story. Fortunately, Bill avoided crashing into the guy. I’m convinced that it had to do with Dennis’s lights.

Dennis wants to be seen, so he has super bright lights that I say can be seen from space. Well, Bill’s stock headlight is really not very bright at all. I ride in front of him a lot and I know this. My suspicion is that the guy in the car absolutely saw Dennis’s lights but did not see Bill’s weak beam at all. He had plenty of time to turn in front of Dennis. Only problem is that Bill was there. I told Bill he needs brighter lights but he pooh-poohed that. Fine, it’s your life.

Other than that we’ve had the usual close calls. Like this year when we were heading into Buena Vista and a car going the other way decided to pass someone on a blind curve–just as I was coming around the curve from the other direction. Bill and I both pulled onto the shoulder to get out of that idiot’s way.

That kind of stuff is routine, unfortunately. But all in all it’s pretty amazing how well we’ve done over the years. We do care about our own skin.

Biker Quote for Today

You might be a Yuppie biker if you wear a full-face helmet; you wear a helmet; you wear earplugs. (Who the heck compiled this list? I’m sorry I have to take exception.)

We made it to the Pacific.

Probably the most ambitious trip the OFMC ever made was in 1999 when we decided it was time to head for the ocean. The Pacific, to be exact. California here we come.

Normally we would leave on these trips on Friday and return on Saturday but for this we left all of one day earlier, and not even early in the day. We hit the road at 2 p.m., heading west on I-70. Where we were promptly hit at about Silver Plume by what may still be the biggest deluge we ever encountered. But by now, this being our eleventh year, we were prepared, had good rain suits, and we just rode right through it. I do recall vehicles going the other direction sending huge walls of water over the median barrier onto us.

Despite our late start we got to Green River, Utah, that evening. The next–very hot–day was just blasting on I-70 to Ely, Nevada. These are the days when you appreciate the pool at the motel.

We were a little wary of crossing Nevada on US 50, the Loneliest Road in America, but it was actually pretty nice. Clouds were appreciated. But we had to pay the incredibly high price of $2 a gallon for gas! Outrage! We made it to Lake Tahoe that day, staying in South Tahoe, in California, where it was cheaper, and we walked into Nevada to gamble.

The next day we looped around Lake Tahoe and crossed Donner Pass on I-80. A short while later we got off the superslab onto CA 20 through Yuba City and on to Calistoga. This was the day when we first experienced some of the tight, twisty, up-and-down roads that California is famous for. Calistoga was a good stop: good food, a decent motel, and alcoholic beverages, of course.

Then we crossed into the Napa Valley, but we didn’t stop for wine tasting, we kept going until we crossed over into the Alexander Valley, also wine country. We stopped at Alexander Valley Vineyards and tasted a few wines and I just had no choice. I bought a case and had it shipped home. With the shipping, I calculated later that I only paid about double what I would have paid buying the same wine at home. But to this day I continue to buy Alexander Valley Vineyards wines.

After a night in Healdsburg we headed to Lake Sonoma Recreation Area where I knew one of the sweetest roads in California. The Stewart’s Point Skaggs Springs Road is so out of the way and sparsely used that a lot of it is one lane. It loops through the forest with so many curves that Bill said later it made him a little sick to his stomach. But then it comes out onto Highway 1 right at the coast. We had made it to the Pacific.

We turned north and headed up to Mendocino. Then we got a real taste of what Mark Twain was talking about when he remarked something to the effect of, “The coldest winter I ever spent was a week in San Francisco.” Fortunately for me, by that time I had my electric vest and had brought it along. Bill and John have never acquired heated gear. I don’t understand why not. I love my vest and my heated gloves.

North of Mendocino, Highway 1 goes inland and we were not unhappy to say good-bye to the coast and coastal weather. We spent the night in Redding at a motel that turned out to be a long-term stay place for what looked like some families just scraping by. No problem; nice folks. Just not what we expected.

The next day we passed through Lassen Volcano National Park and turned south on a series of roads that eventually brought us to Reno. Stayed the night in Reno and then it was back across the Loneliest Road in America for another night in Ely. Bill had fun this day. His Shadow had a very low center of gravity so just like a bicycle, he could ride with no hands. He tested to see how far he could go without touching the handlebars and his best shot was about 35 miles.

The next day was just a hard day of riding, back to Green River. Then Bill went all the way home while John and I stopped for the night in Grand Junction with a friend living there, and home the next.

This was a trip full of hard days of riding. I rode my 1980 Honda CB750 Custom with its stock seat and my butt was really sore by the time we got home. Shortly afterward I bought my 1999 Kawasaki Concours and I rode it out to coffee one day with the guys. Hey, when we leave, I told them, you have to see the new seat I got. I walked them out to the Connie telling them, yeah, the seat cost me one heck of a lot but they threw in the whole rest of the bike at no extra charge.

Biker Quote for Today

No therapy in the world can do what burning a tank of gas, chasing the setting sun can do for you.

We had a big group for a while.

When the OFMC got going–before we even came up with the OFMC name–there were three of us: John, Bill, and Ken (me). John had bought a bike, so I bought one, so Bill bought one. Soon enough we decided we needed to go somewhere on these fine machines. That was 1989.

Things took a new twist in 1998 when John’s son Johnathon joined us for the first time, riding the old Yamaha Virago his father had given him when he moved up to his Honda Shadow. That started a chain reaction.

In 2000 Bill’s brother Friggs joined the group. The funny thing is, he didn’t even own a bike at that time. Instead, he rented a Harley. The rental had an “unlimited miles” note in the paperwork but when Friggs took the bike back after the trip the rental guy grumbled that unlimited miles didn’t mean that many miles. Oh yeah? Friggs bought a Virago shortly after the trip.

Then in 2004 things exploded. Bills’ son Jason now joined us and he brought along a friend, Todd. Johnathon also brought his friend Randy. It was also the first trip for Bill and Friggs’s brother-in-law Dennis. Now it was getting too big a group to just be showing up in some random town expecting to find enough motel rooms, but that was a lesson we learned on this trip, not beforehand.

In 2006 Johnathon brought another friend, Brett, and we had the biggest group yet. So we’ve got three original guys, one brother, two sons, one brother-in-law, and a fluctuating line-up of sons’ friends. In 2010 Matt, a brother of one of the friends (see how it spreads!) came along. Finally, in 2015, John’s wife’s cousin Frank joined us and we had the biggest group ever. From there the OFMC began to shrink.

Johnathon and Jason were the first to drop out. They were both young married guys with families and they made the decision that they needed to put their families first and not risk getting hurt badly or killed. Several of the friends fell away then, too. By 2017 we were down to John, Dennis, Bill, Friggs, Brett, and me.

In 2018 John, one of the three founders, did not come. His health issues had gotten too serious and he had sold his motorcycle. The end of an era. Then in 2018, on a clean, smooth road, for no knowable reason, Friggs went down. He escaped serious injury–thank goodness for his helmet–but after finishing the trip he sold his bike and has never ridden again.

Then in 2019 it was just three of us again, Bill, Dennis, and me. That continued until 2022 when we were joined by Bruce but Bruce didn’t make it in 2023 or 2024 so at the end it was just us three. Same number as we started with, two of the same guys. Can’t say for sure yet but it looks like that’s the end. At a poker game recently John asked if there would be a ride next year and I listened keenly to the replies Bill and Dennis gave. Dennis was non-committal, probably waiting for Bill to answer, and Bill said he was not inclined to. But he didn’t say a positive no. We’ll wait and see.

Biker Quote for Today

Motorcycling is like talking; the road speaks, and my heart understands.

Our first time playing golf on the OFMC trip. And that’s the bridge over the Snake River Canyon in the background.

In the early days of the OFMC we didn’t plan our trips. We’d basically get together at someone’s house and ask “Where do you want to go?” And then we’d head off in whatever direction.

Of course this led to some problems sometimes. Like when we figured to spend the night in Laramie and found when we got there that because Frontier Days was in full swing over in Cheyenne, all the motels in Laramie were completely booked. But this was back in the days when we carried camping gear so we just went to the local KOA and spent the night there. Another time we got to Pinedale, Wyoming, to find that Pioneer Days was going on. In that case we got lucky and found the last available motel room in town.

This sort of thing doesn’t happen any more because we plan ahead and make reservations well in advance.

Then there are the times when we would decide in the morning to head somewhere and something would come along to make us think, forget that, let’s spend some time here. An example of that was the first time we stayed in Jackpot, Nevada, and heading north from there the next day we were headed somewhere. That changed when we came to Twin Falls, Idaho, and found ourselves crossing the Snake River on a high bridge. To our amazement, way below on the canyon floor was a golf course. A really beautiful looking golf course. Oh my gosh, we have to check this out.

So we crossed back over and found the road to the bottom of the canyon and walked in the pro shop. Would it be possible to get a tee time yet today? Yes it would. Oh my gosh, let’s go find a motel and stash our stuff and come back and play a round. Which is what we did, having traveled all of about 35 miles that day. And ever since that stop we have made it a point to spend two days somewhere along the way with a day off from riding to play golf.

Another time we had been in Deadwood, South Dakota, and were heading in the direction of the Bighorn Mountains when we came through the town of Hulett, which is right near Devil’s Tower. There was something about this little town that captured our hearts and so after riding only 67 miles we checked into a motel we spotted and spent the day in Hulett.

The first time this kind of thing happened, though, was on a trip where Bill had problems and could not join us so it was only John and me. We made a stop in Salt Lake City to visit our friend Christopher and found ourselves in heaven. Christopher was living with his brother Wesley in a little house with a deeply shaded backyard and we discovered for the first time the secret the original inhabitants of this region of the country learned many centuries ago: If you have cooling shade and free air movement it can be blazing hot and you will be as comfortable as you could ever imagine.

It was utterly delightful. We bathed in the freshness, the exquisite luxury of a totally peaceful situation, and we had absolutely no choice but to stay a second night. That next day was just as heavenly so we stuck around but did decide later in the day to load Christopher on John’s bike and blast the super-straight road west over the Salt Flats to Wendover to do some gambling. After giving Nevada the cash we figured we could afford we blasted back across the flats in the dark cool of the night and spent some more delicious time in Christopher and Wesley’s backyard before turning in for the night. The next day we did finally leave.

And then on another trip the same thing happened twice in a row. We came to Taos and found a super sweet motel where we had a large cottage with patio and grill and lots of shade. We liked it enough to stay two nights. From there we headed back into Colorado, and passing through Cuchara we saw a very inviting golf course and went back into Cuchara and found a room so we could golf the next day.

This kind of thing just doesn’t happen when you have your trip totally planned out in advance and reservations are made. Which is to say, this sort of thing hasn’t happened with the OFMC in quite a few years. But that’s one reason I like traveling alone. I never make reservations when I’m traveling alone and I do still carry camping gear. So I go where and when I want to go, and stop where and when I want to stop. That is freedom.

Biker Quote for Today

In my helmet, dreams are stored, and riding releases them into the wind.

This cabin in Cooke City, Montana, was another on the low end. They didn’t usually rent it out but because there was no place else available in town they opened it up for us. Now they’ve been spruced up and are in regular use.

If you travel much you inevitably find yourself in some places that are really nice and other places that are not so nice at all. In the 30+ years the OFMC has been doing an annual trip we have certainly had our share of both.

Of course, when you find a really good place you want to go back there. However, life goes on and sometimes you can never go back.

One of the nicest places we ever stayed was in Taos, New Mexico. The El Monte Lodge was just a little to the east of downtown on the main road. The room we got in 1997 was a large suite with three or four beds, a kitchen, loads of room, and our own private fenced, shaded patio complete with barbecue grill. And it wasn’t very expensive. We knew a good thing when we saw it and decided to stay two nights.
This place was so nice we went back a few years later. Got the same room. Loved it.

Don’t go looking for the El Monte if you’re in Taos now. It’s gone. Replaced by some big new resort. It was just too good to last in a place where that location was too much a prime piece of real estate.

One of the worst places we ever stayed was in Gallup, New Mexico. We had just come from Laughlin, Nevada, in a brutal trek across the state, with fierce winds pounding us from due north that had us leaning hard to the left to keep from being blown off the road.

We got into Gallup ready to sit still somewhere. We grabbed one of the first motels we saw and were pleased that it was cheap. Yeah, there was a reason it was cheap. It was total crap. This was in the days when there were just the three of us and customarily we took turns in rooms with two beds of one person sleeping on the floor.

The problem was, there were insects running all around on the floor. Bill had the short straw that night and we heard about that place many times for a long time afterward.

On the other hand, one of the better places we have stayed is also in Gallup, and I highly recommend it. That’s the El Rancho. This is an old place where the movie people used to stay when they were shooting in Monument Valley, nearby. All the rooms are named for stars. And while it costs more than the numerous dumps in town, it is actually cheaper than the modern places in town. And it has a lot more character.

Then there was Jordan, Idaho. This, too, was back in the days of just the three original guys—Bill, John, and me—and in the time when we still camped sometimes. There was really nothing in Jordan but we did find a farmer’s field that doubled as a campground. We pitched our tents and went to sleep.

Only thing was, a hellacious rainstorm broke out overnight. Oh well, if you’ve got a good tent you just ignore it and go back to sleep. Not the case for Bill. His tent had a rain-fly that somehow came loose in the fierce winds and he woke up getting drenched. He had to get out in that rain to reattach the fly. John and I knew nothing of this but come morning we heard a lot about it.

Wow, now that I’ve gotten started I could just keep going but I won’t. Let’s just say our adventures in accommodations have gotten a lot tamer since we’ve all reached the point where we have enough money to stay in the nicer places.

Biker Quote for Today

I know I’m alive. When I ride even the familiar seems strange and glorious. The air has weight as I push through it, its touch is as intimate as water to a swimmer. — Dave Karlotski

We still use paper maps but back then that was the only option.

The OFMC did really well in terms of avoiding mechanical issues on the road for a very long time. We only sort of, semi avoided it, however, on our seventh trip, in 1995. Bill had his problem before we left.

John and I were at John’s waiting for Bill to get there when the phone rang. It was Bill, with a dead bike a few miles away. We rode down there and found him in a shopping center parking lot. Thinking that maybe if we could get it running all would be fine (fat chance!) we pushed and pushed and pushed him till we were about to keep over. But miraculously, at some point, we did get it started. At this point Bill figured it would not be wise to head out of town so he went straight to his dealer’s place while we waited at John’s.

Maybe an hour later Bill called to tell us the issue was his stator, which had died, and the dealer did not have one in stock and at best it would be a couple days to get one in. We hated to leave without him but we all clearly understood that if someone couldn’t ride the others were not going to let that ruin their trip. John and I left, headed north.

We got as far as Wheatland, Wyoming, that evening and checked into a scuzz-bag motel. Got a quick fast-food dinner and headed to the nearest bar for a few beers. Along with the live band for entertainment that evening we got a pick-up offer from a local woman whose lack of beauty was matched by her obesity and drunkenness. “You guys want to come home with me?” No. Really, really no. Thanks for the invitation.

The next day we headed on to Deadwood, South Dakota. A gambling stop is always a mandatory part of our itinerary. Of course we lost money; Bill is usually the only one who wins. In the morning, before we started out, John called his wife Cheryl to see if she had heard anything from Bill. This was before cell phones.

Yes Bill had called. No, he had not gotten his bike fixed but he bought a trickle-charger and figured if he removed the fuse for his lights and rode only in the day-time he could keep the bike running, and then charge it overnight. He also had a long extension cord. He would meet us that evening in Thermopolis, Wyoming.

Great! Bill’s gonna make it!

Of course this was before we started planning everything out beforehand, so there was no plan as to where to meet Bill in Thermopolis. So we got a motel on the mail drag and parked our bikes right out front by the curb to make them totally visible. And what do you know, about 20 minutes later here came Bill. He immediately plugged in the charger.

From Thermopolis we rode on first to Pinedale, then Bozeman, Montana, and then to Salmon, Idaho. The night in Bozeman was the Fourth of July so we had a great spot from our motel on a hill to watch the fireworks. Did you know that Bozeman is so far north that they don’t even start the fireworks show until about 10:30 p.m.? And it’s not really dark yet then.

On the way to Salmon we stopped in a couple little ghost towns, Virginia City and Wisdom, where a bartender looked very disapprovingly at my bandana. He told me I had it tied all wrong, and then proceeded to show me how to do it right. I couldn’t follow his instructions so to this day I don’t know how to tie my bandana “right” but that’s OK, I don’t ride without a helmet anymore anyway.

Each of these nights Bill dutifully plugged his bike in to charge and each day it ran OK. Just hoping we don’t have any surprises.

The next night in Kemmerer, Wyoming, we learned another good lesson: some motels have rooms with more than two beds. With three of us we had always taken turns being the one who slept on the floor. This was back when we used to always carry tents and sleeping bags so that was an option, and that’s what we did. We sure didn’t have the money to pay for a second room. Well, this place in Kemmerer had four beds so from that time on we always asked.

The next day, our final night out, we planned to stop in Saratoga but our usual place, the Sand and Sage, had no rooms. They suggested we ride on to Encampment or Riverside, just down the road. We did and got a little cabin that had beds for us all and it was just sweet. About as rustic as you can get but that suited us just fine. We liked it so much we came back in later years.

And Bill never had a problem. Let’s hear it for ingenuity.

Biker Quote for Today

Why motorcycles are better than women: If your Motorcycle goes flat, you can fix it.