West 2002
 
 

Day 11

August 4

 
  It is a beautiful Sunday, so I wake up early and have a special quiet time. My usual Sundays are spent helping with our church that meets in our house. I play the piano and teach Sunday School so I am usually pretty busy for the day. This is a break in the routine that gives me pause to reflect on my relationship with God and how good He has been to allow me to make this trip. I finish my devotions, and I try to be quiet as I get up and clean up. I realized along time ago some folks are early birds and some folks are late owls, and I don't know which one Dennis is yet. Me, once my eyes pop open, I'm ready to roll but I understand some folks don't get their motor running til about noon and a half dozen cups of starter fluid. I hear Dennis rattling a bit upstairs so I feel a little better about moving around a bit. Before long, Martin comes over and off we go on a great tour of the back roads around the area. Nothing like great roads and great friends on a beautiful day for riding. The roads remind me of East Tennessee and once again I remember how far from home I am. But it's enjoyable to be in the curves again and off the slab and four lanes. We take a break at Four Corners (not to be confused with the other Four Corners of the states) and I get to see famed Alice's.  
 
 
  I know that the Alice of 60s fame was out east, but still can't help but wonder where Arlo is. The old tune “You can get anything you want, at Alice's restaurant” keeps playing in my head. We head out again then stop on top of a ridge just past Four Corners. Nothing suits me better that looking out from high spot and this is quite a high spot with a great view of the area. When I was stationed on the North Carolina coast courtesy of the USMC, I would get so lonesome for a high spot to look out, that I would ride my Triumph to the top of a hump bridge and just sit for while. I guess it's the hillbilly that's in me, but the flat land just wears me out after a while. Dennis and Martin point out some gigantic structures down in the valley which turn out to be blimp hangars. From where I am they look pretty huge so I can't imagine how big they must be up close.  
 
 
  While we are stopped I also get a good shot of the bikes with Martin and Dennis standing around.  
 
 
  But knowing some folks will soon descend on Dennis' house, we wind our way back down the ridges. Martin takes off to pick up Sherrill so Dennis and I wing it back toward his house alone. He takes me to downtown Redwood City. It has banner that proudly proclaims it to have the best climate in the USA certified by the government.  
 
 
 

However, Miss Norma, his lovely wife, has fled this lovely place and gone to her homeland in Brazil - just to avoid this strange feller that was going to show up at her house. So having the kitchen to myself, I begin to fuss with the beans a bit to make sure they are okay and begin to prepare for cooking the cornbread. With the important business taken care of, I slip outside before company shows up and get a shot of one of Dennis's beautiful courtyards. For a moment, you could believe you were out in the woods instead of in a densely populated neighborhood.

  
 
 
  But before we know it, the Hotel California courtyard has all kinds of neat folks in it. Don Cortez, who could easily pass for a sheriff in a small southern town, gingerly wanders in (he's recovering from a lay down on his ST) with his lovely wife Joyce. Bob returns with Sherry and his amazingly bright youngin, Daniel. Lilian, Dennis' sister and Dave arrive and we get to talk a bit about her Brazilian experiences. VJ comes by with his sweet wife Mo and I get introduced to them. I tell VJ about the wonders of my Russell seat and Mo tries it out and likes it. Paul Deavereaux, the miracle man who barely escaped with his life in an ST collision with a SUV, comes in. I'm amazed that he can even walk, much less get around as well as he can. Turns out he is an experienced bluegrass banjo picker, so we share our favorite musicians and songs. Then I remember the food, so I head for the kitchen to finish up a mess of cornbread and check on the big pot of white beans. Dennis is firing up the grill to make his almost world famous hamburgers. We all swap war stories from our riding and life experiences over great guacamole and chips. I even manage to squeeze in a few tall tales from my life as kid in the hills of Tennessee – stories of shooting spring lizards off the porch steps and pennies off a fence post, outhouses and moonshiners and bootleggers. The burgers, two skillets of cornbread, and a bunch of white beans and a slew of other great stuff disappear pretty quick. Then we break out some cake, the GoosGoos and the Moon Pies because if you can still breathe it means you can still eat. But to my sadness, too quickly folks have to leave as we wind down for the day. What a great joy it is to meet folks I've only talked to electronically and finally put voices and faces with names. As the sun sinks, I realize tomorrow will be a big day for me, a day of mixed emotions. It begins my solo journey back to Tennessee leaving my new friends far too quickly. But I'm really looking forward to the trip with Dennis through Yosemite, another place I've wanted to see for a long time. But before the sun sets tomorrow, I will be facing a personal challenge that will almost wreck the remainder of my trip.