Day-4 August 27
Sorry to leave Cheyenne, a pleasant place to hang. This trip has a nice mellow feel to it. When I was younger our trips where brutal, Bruce and I left Detroit one Friday afternoon afternoon, in 1990 and went to sleep Sunday night in Winnemuca Nevada. It seemed appropriate at the time but that time is past. I have done Iron Butt mileage but have never had the organizational skills to keep the paperwork in order. We head south down US-85 toward Greeley Colorado. The morning sun is perfect temp. and we are rolling effortlessly. A nice ride down the front range with the Rocky Mountains dancing along on our right.
Drifter hightailing across the majestic planes.
I stop at a post office in Nunn CO to mail a card. I am as good a husband as I am a mechanic as I erroneously scheduled this little trip to coincide with our 22nd anniversary, MORON.
In a feeble attempt at damage mitigation I have dragged an anniversary card through a couple of time zones so that through some fluke, should I remember, I could mail it to her. I was pretty damn proud of myself for remembering, until I pulled the card out of my tank bag and realized my STABIL brand fuel stabilizer had vomited all over it.
Think quick moron. I sent it to her anyway and put a heart around the stain and said the 22 anniversary is the fuel stabilizer anniversary as it represents the stability of our love.
I told Drifter to cross his fingers. I been with Sweet Thang for 25 years and the humor angle is bound to get stale. She is sho nuff pick oí the litter and I donít wanna loose her.
Headed down through Greeley and went west on US-34 headed toward Loveland and Rocky mountain national park. I kinda liked Greeley it had just the right amount of Mexicans, college students, working stiffs and just enough yuppies to keep it organized.
Of course this keen sociological study was done at 40mph on a sunny day so if it doesnít reflect the Greeley Colorado you have seen, it is understandable.
Drifter and I have a nice breakfast in Loveland. It is a nice mom and pop diner. I can tell that Loveland has been swallowed by modern life as it is identical to the town we left in Michigan with the exception of the big lumps on the western horizon. Something is starting to bother me about the modern sophisticated world. Everyone lives in their own demographic age/income/race groups. Where are the old people in my town? There might not be any. What are they going to do with me when age forces my cost to exceed my productivity? What happens when the hamster canít keep his wheel rolling?
ďTo the lumps DrifterĒ. It is pretty exciting as we start to climb Big Thompson canyon toward Estes Park.
This is the first taste of big rocks we have had in a while and it is exhilarating.
Alot of people don't understand motorcycling. I don't understand wanting to hang onto a hot rock all afternoon. Look close and you can see the guy.
At the entrance of the park a few respectable gentlemen on BMW r/75s from Boulder accost me and are gradually won over by the spirit of CACK. Hey they asked. We see them off and on throughout the day.
Having a bike like this is a nice efficient asshole detector if a person doesnít smile or makes a critical remark we donít have to waste many of our precious moments on earth talking to them. The beemer guys passed with flying colors and were good company.
Rocky Mountain white rumped sheep.
I marvel at my machine, at 12,000 feet above sea level, it runs like a top. It still has the factory spark plugs and wires.
I marvel at Drifter, we have had a fair amount of physical duress and he has been grinning from ear to ear this whole trip.
We get up above the tree line and go into one of these nature walk areas at the top of one of the mountains and do the high altitude walk,gasp,walk,gasp. It was nice because we are in good enough shape to hike out where most casual tourist canít go and have some nice alone visiting time.
It was in this section that alot of unnatural noises where coming out from Drifters helmet as occasionally the right, left or both sides of the road would vanish and you had a coupla thousand foot drop. Should I have checked the brake fluid?
On a more ominous note there is something attacking the pines in the park, near the town of Grand something. There is not a living tree on the entire side of the mountain. The waitress that gave me the details on the pine situation was a Romanian exchange student and her knowledge of North American botany was a bit sketchy. I could have inquired further but chances are the truth would have bummed me out so we booked.
Coming down the backside into Grandby was bliss cool, a little overcast and little traffic. I was getting tuckered out by the time we left Granby.
If the shoe fits.
The only buffalo we saw the whole trip who cares if it was bronze?
We cruised out US-34 to CO 9 at Kremmerling and headed south to Copper Mountain where we had kinfolks waiting.
Thank god, friendly familiar faces. They are both marathon runners and they do their long days at 10,000 feet. Drifters aunt can kick your dads ass. Aunty cooked up some kick ass red beans and rice and her beau grilled some good chicken and the Corona fairy had left a nice present.
Nice digs too, a condo at the bottom of the Copper Mountain ski lift.
They always make us feel welcome and we love them to pieces.