That was a GREAT ride report! Thanks for sharing!
The Road to Wrestlemania
- Thread starter Frenchy750
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BwanaDik
Well-known member
Outstanding report!!! :clapping: Let's see the ride home!
Bambi and I came thru that section of U.S.-90 too on the way back from Big Bend. Full ATGATT plus dark shades. Each time we went thru a checkpoint and the officer asked if we were Americans, the only answer I could think of was "Si, Senior" but happily I never said it. Although I was laughing my head off in my helmet once we drove away. :lol: Wifey was laughing too, but not amused.....Didn't want to spend 4-5 pleasent hours with the nice officer.
Bambi and I came thru that section of U.S.-90 too on the way back from Big Bend. Full ATGATT plus dark shades. Each time we went thru a checkpoint and the officer asked if we were Americans, the only answer I could think of was "Si, Senior" but happily I never said it. Although I was laughing my head off in my helmet once we drove away. :lol: Wifey was laughing too, but not amused.....Didn't want to spend 4-5 pleasent hours with the nice officer.
Frenchy750
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The road took an unexpected turn at Wrestlemania when Abi received terrible news. Just before the show started, he learned his cousin Kapil passed away in Trinidad. Abi and Kapil were as close as brothers, in fact when he told me what had happened, he said, "My... my brother. He... he... died. I have to go home."
The least of his worries at that moment was his motorcycle. Fellow Houstonian and WWE audio crew member Pat graciously offered to store it at his house as long as Dark Meat Snack needed. He also graciously offered to ride it to Oklahoma City, the end point of this leg of the journey.
Funny thing; a LOT of people offered to ride Abi's motorcycle to Oklahoma City. Most of the crew in fact. That's what friends are for!
The Entire 2182 Mile Route to Wrestlemania
After Wrestlemania, Monday's show was nearby at the Toyota Center in downtown Houston. When that show ended, Abi, Pat and I rode to Pat's house, where Snowball was sadly parked for a while. The WWE made arrangements for Abi to fly to Trinidad on Tuesday to attend the funeral. Pat, a fellow rider with a sweet 100th Anniversary Harley Springer Softail planned to ride with me to Tuesday's WWE show in Austin.
Austin or Bust
Tuesday's show in Austin was a blur. By that point, after Wrestlemania but with one show still left to go, the crew is usually so zorched that communication is reduced to mostly grunts and occasional swearing. 'Go **** Yourself Tuesday' is my least favorite work day of the year, even though there finally is some light at the end of the long, long tunnel.
I woke at the crack of very late morning on Wednesday, feeling relieved and refreshed, but also a bit somber. In honor of the memory of Kapil, I flew my ever-present Kingdom of Rhode Island flag at half staff.
Pat left for home, and I left for Abilene, where I would meet Sleeping Beauty. It was a melancholy beginning to the Road Away From Wrestlemania, and I was soon lost deep in my thoughts.
Rear View - Empty
The route I chose was as good as any, since there is no direct route from Austin to Abilene. The Texas Hill Country Trail is pretty and scenic; and became the perfect antidote to my case of the blues.
I came upon the strangest herd of cattle I'd ever seen.
On this little trail, filled with all kinds of animals, the buzzards rule supreme. I saw tons of recently deceased deer on the roadside, and tons of buzzards devouring the carcasses. Buzzards are industrious and tireless creatures, as I realized when I saw a pile of what appeared to be completely picked clean, completely meat-free cow bones in a field.
In three hours, I only saw one other vehicle. With such traffic free roads, I had time to take a picture I've always wanted to take; a tribute to the cover of Neil Peart's excellent book Ghost Rider.
And so the day went. It was a good way to get my head cleared from Wrestelemania's week of Animal Husbandry Experiments, and ready for the final three days of the ride. In a masterful stroke of brilliant planning (actually complete dumb luck, but don't tell her,) I made it to Abilene Regional Airport - which could easily be the world's smallest airport - just as Fiona's flight was landing.
Yee-Haaa!! Sleeping Beauty - Awake in Abilene
For this grand occasion, we splurged on the best hotel in town. A lovely gazebo sat in the middle of a lush courtyard, the perfect place to sit and watch a romantic sunset. We poured some refreshing adult beverages, and set out hand in hand to toast the end of the Almost-Best Day Ever.
Trying to get as comfortable as possible, I took off my riding boots and walked barefoot to the gazebo. Fiona mildly scolded me for not wearing shoes, but she knows how stubborn I am, so, after shaking her head at me she almost immediately dropped it.
The second I walked on that grass, I regretted my stupid stubborn streak. White hot needles of pain tore through the soles of my feet. I thought I was just walking on dry grass, but every step made the pain worse until it was intolerable. She knew something was wrong when I spilled my beer in a sprint for the safety of the concrete. As I took the pressure off my feet, the pain got worse, radiating up my legs.
Concerned, my lovely nurse came over to see if I was faking a problem yet again. Her concern turned to laughter almost immediately. As she giggled, red hot pokers ignited everywhere on my feet. After she stopped laughing long enough to talk, her response was, "Oh my God! I need to get my camera!"
Sticking out of my feet were about three thousand seeds covered with needle-like barbs shaped like fishhooks. A lesser mortal would have instantly succumbed to an injury as grievous as this, but not me. I'm stubborn! The pain was unbearable, but at least Fiona got a good laugh out of my misery. This kind of thing always happens to me; for anyone that wonders what Fiona sees in me, it's definitely the comic relief.
Thankfully, I'd locked the room key inside the room, something else that I seem to excel at. Her camera was safely locked inside. No pictures this time.
After an hour of really fun debriding, and really fun ball busting, I was able to hobble again. With Sleeping Beauty in tow, I limped over to a restaurant for dinner and refreshing adult liquid painkillers. Properly medicated, we headed back to the hotel.
The last thing I did before calling it a night was check my email to see if DarthRider, the yet-unmet friend who'd graciously invited us to stay at his home on this trip had tried to get in touch. We were looking forward to imposing ourselves on Dave and his lovely wife Betty's generosity the very next day.
Dave had gotten in touch, with an ominous note:
Hey Frenchy -
Man, as bad as I hate to say it, Thursday is looking rough!
That "wind event" in this area Thurs is now forecast to be worse than thought. They are forecasting winds from the W-NW at 50, gusting to 60 MPH, 65 F.
I hate to say this and we will be very disappointed if it has to go this way, but you might want to think about a Plan B. I would consider laying low when you pick up Fiona and heading North for OKC Fri AM. Maybe explore as far Thurs as the wind allows.
We would be truly delighted if it works for Thurs, and anything can happen in the highly & quickly changeable weather in the Texas Panhandle. So I'd suggest waiting to make the final decision as long as you can so we can watch the weather.
If it works out we will love to have you, if not you have a rain-check for any and every opportunity to come by our little canyon.
What do you think?
Dave
Before heading to bed, I jotted a quick response:
Dave,
If I based my rides on weather predictions, I'd never go anywhere.
Unless there is a hurricane or unless it is really unsafe and impossible, Fiona and I will be there Thursday at some point. I will call you tomorrow morning before we head out of Abilene. No Plan B for me.
See you tomorrow night!
PS: I'm not gonna watch the weather channel or look at it online. Those people hate motorcycles anyway.
I'll look at the sky tomorrow morning, and if I see any wind, I'll shake my fist at it!
As I said, stubbornness is one of my better qualities. Sometimes I can be so dumb.
The least of his worries at that moment was his motorcycle. Fellow Houstonian and WWE audio crew member Pat graciously offered to store it at his house as long as Dark Meat Snack needed. He also graciously offered to ride it to Oklahoma City, the end point of this leg of the journey.
Funny thing; a LOT of people offered to ride Abi's motorcycle to Oklahoma City. Most of the crew in fact. That's what friends are for!
The Entire 2182 Mile Route to Wrestlemania
After Wrestlemania, Monday's show was nearby at the Toyota Center in downtown Houston. When that show ended, Abi, Pat and I rode to Pat's house, where Snowball was sadly parked for a while. The WWE made arrangements for Abi to fly to Trinidad on Tuesday to attend the funeral. Pat, a fellow rider with a sweet 100th Anniversary Harley Springer Softail planned to ride with me to Tuesday's WWE show in Austin.
Austin or Bust
Tuesday's show in Austin was a blur. By that point, after Wrestlemania but with one show still left to go, the crew is usually so zorched that communication is reduced to mostly grunts and occasional swearing. 'Go **** Yourself Tuesday' is my least favorite work day of the year, even though there finally is some light at the end of the long, long tunnel.
I woke at the crack of very late morning on Wednesday, feeling relieved and refreshed, but also a bit somber. In honor of the memory of Kapil, I flew my ever-present Kingdom of Rhode Island flag at half staff.
Pat left for home, and I left for Abilene, where I would meet Sleeping Beauty. It was a melancholy beginning to the Road Away From Wrestlemania, and I was soon lost deep in my thoughts.
Rear View - Empty
The route I chose was as good as any, since there is no direct route from Austin to Abilene. The Texas Hill Country Trail is pretty and scenic; and became the perfect antidote to my case of the blues.
I came upon the strangest herd of cattle I'd ever seen.
On this little trail, filled with all kinds of animals, the buzzards rule supreme. I saw tons of recently deceased deer on the roadside, and tons of buzzards devouring the carcasses. Buzzards are industrious and tireless creatures, as I realized when I saw a pile of what appeared to be completely picked clean, completely meat-free cow bones in a field.
In three hours, I only saw one other vehicle. With such traffic free roads, I had time to take a picture I've always wanted to take; a tribute to the cover of Neil Peart's excellent book Ghost Rider.
And so the day went. It was a good way to get my head cleared from Wrestelemania's week of Animal Husbandry Experiments, and ready for the final three days of the ride. In a masterful stroke of brilliant planning (actually complete dumb luck, but don't tell her,) I made it to Abilene Regional Airport - which could easily be the world's smallest airport - just as Fiona's flight was landing.
Yee-Haaa!! Sleeping Beauty - Awake in Abilene
For this grand occasion, we splurged on the best hotel in town. A lovely gazebo sat in the middle of a lush courtyard, the perfect place to sit and watch a romantic sunset. We poured some refreshing adult beverages, and set out hand in hand to toast the end of the Almost-Best Day Ever.
Trying to get as comfortable as possible, I took off my riding boots and walked barefoot to the gazebo. Fiona mildly scolded me for not wearing shoes, but she knows how stubborn I am, so, after shaking her head at me she almost immediately dropped it.
The second I walked on that grass, I regretted my stupid stubborn streak. White hot needles of pain tore through the soles of my feet. I thought I was just walking on dry grass, but every step made the pain worse until it was intolerable. She knew something was wrong when I spilled my beer in a sprint for the safety of the concrete. As I took the pressure off my feet, the pain got worse, radiating up my legs.
Concerned, my lovely nurse came over to see if I was faking a problem yet again. Her concern turned to laughter almost immediately. As she giggled, red hot pokers ignited everywhere on my feet. After she stopped laughing long enough to talk, her response was, "Oh my God! I need to get my camera!"
Sticking out of my feet were about three thousand seeds covered with needle-like barbs shaped like fishhooks. A lesser mortal would have instantly succumbed to an injury as grievous as this, but not me. I'm stubborn! The pain was unbearable, but at least Fiona got a good laugh out of my misery. This kind of thing always happens to me; for anyone that wonders what Fiona sees in me, it's definitely the comic relief.
Thankfully, I'd locked the room key inside the room, something else that I seem to excel at. Her camera was safely locked inside. No pictures this time.
After an hour of really fun debriding, and really fun ball busting, I was able to hobble again. With Sleeping Beauty in tow, I limped over to a restaurant for dinner and refreshing adult liquid painkillers. Properly medicated, we headed back to the hotel.
The last thing I did before calling it a night was check my email to see if DarthRider, the yet-unmet friend who'd graciously invited us to stay at his home on this trip had tried to get in touch. We were looking forward to imposing ourselves on Dave and his lovely wife Betty's generosity the very next day.
Dave had gotten in touch, with an ominous note:
Hey Frenchy -
Man, as bad as I hate to say it, Thursday is looking rough!
That "wind event" in this area Thurs is now forecast to be worse than thought. They are forecasting winds from the W-NW at 50, gusting to 60 MPH, 65 F.
I hate to say this and we will be very disappointed if it has to go this way, but you might want to think about a Plan B. I would consider laying low when you pick up Fiona and heading North for OKC Fri AM. Maybe explore as far Thurs as the wind allows.
We would be truly delighted if it works for Thurs, and anything can happen in the highly & quickly changeable weather in the Texas Panhandle. So I'd suggest waiting to make the final decision as long as you can so we can watch the weather.
If it works out we will love to have you, if not you have a rain-check for any and every opportunity to come by our little canyon.
What do you think?
Dave
Before heading to bed, I jotted a quick response:
Dave,
If I based my rides on weather predictions, I'd never go anywhere.
Unless there is a hurricane or unless it is really unsafe and impossible, Fiona and I will be there Thursday at some point. I will call you tomorrow morning before we head out of Abilene. No Plan B for me.
See you tomorrow night!
PS: I'm not gonna watch the weather channel or look at it online. Those people hate motorcycles anyway.
I'll look at the sky tomorrow morning, and if I see any wind, I'll shake my fist at it!
As I said, stubbornness is one of my better qualities. Sometimes I can be so dumb.
Great continuation!
Condolences to Abi and his family
Condolences to Abi and his family
Frenchy750
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A 'Wind Event?'
What a joke! That's what the weather-heads called it. Calling the ferocious, ridiculously high gusts of rapidly moving air a 'Wind Event' is like calling the sinking of the Titanic a 'Boating Event.'
Mother Nature's mood that morning could best be summed up with two words: Sucks and Blows. If we put something down while loading Rain Cloud Follows, it blew away. Fiona's sunglasses disappeared for a while, we finally found them twenty feet away behind a curb. My gloves ended up under a parked car. I'm honestly surprised the motorcycle hadn't blown over in the night. We both were laughing at the strength of the wind, but it wasn't a funny laugh, it was more of the nervous, 'Are-we-really-going-to-try-and-ride-in-this-****' kind.
As soon as we got on the road, the laughing stopped, and the crying began. Rain Cloud Follows bucked like a rodeo bull as the angry masses of air attacked. Immediately, a huge gust of wind grabbed my map holder and tried to launch my map to Oz.
Then, we passed a freshly plowed field. The hurricane force sent dirt and dust flying across the road, coating everything with a fine film of grit, making it impossible to see.
The bike pitched around violently, and I leaned at ridiculous angles just to keep it going straight. Gusts would blow us across the lane and back with alarming regularity. Frustrated, I pulled off the highway.
I turned and shouted to Fiona, "I don't know about this!"
She shouted back, "We're already in it, let's keep going for a while!" Turning around to make sure I heard correctly, I noticed she was actually smiling.
She is the voice of reason in this relationship. She is also 100% crazy.
I got back on the road, and the wind showed no mercy. It pummeled us from the left, and when that got tiring, it switched around and pummeled us from the right. It was extremely brutal riding.
Futilely Shaking My Fist at the Wind
Note the building behind me in the picture. I think the third Little Pig lived there, and even though this house was made of stone, Mother Nature huffed and puffed, and the roof blew clean off.
One interesting byproduct of all this wind is fire. We passed burning buildings and brush fires as we fought our way through the onslaught.
Riding in vicious wind like this is a lot like hitting yourself in the head with a hammer. It feels really good when you stop.
Two hundred seventy miles later, it felt really good when we finished battling the wind for the day and arrived at our new friend DarthRider's house.
Since I started posting ride reports, DarthRider, a.k.a. Dave has consistently extended an invitation for us to come and stay with him and his wife Betty. Way back in the 'Map-kin Planning' days, I realized that Dave's home was somewhat close to Houston, relatively speaking, and gladly accepted his kind offer.
Don, Dave, Betty and Two Windblown Strangers in Amarillo
Dave, his wife Betty and friend Don extended every courtesy and kindness to us, stories and laughs were swapped, beers were drained, a fantastic steak dinner was consumed and we stayed up late into the cool and mercifully windless night. It will never cease to amaze me that total strangers can forge such an instant bond, all because of a shared love of motorcycles.
That's why I ride.
The next morning we slept in, recovering from the beating Mother Nature doled out the day before. Though we had plans to meet Keith somewhere and ride to his house in Oklahoma City - the self-designated end of this leg of the ride - there was too much to see around DarthRider's home town to just leave.
Later that morning, Don returned with his Harley, Dave fired up his Triumph, and we motored out to nearby Palo Duro Canyon State Park.
Donson on the Digital Bitch
Dave on his Wheelie Machine
New Friends in Palo Duro State Park
From the canyon, DarthRider led me and Sleeping Beauty to another place that has long been on my list of places to see; Stanley Marsh 3's Cadillac Ranch! (note: it's NOT Stanley Marsh the Third, it is Stanley Marsh Three. What else would you expect from a nutter that buries ten Cadillacs halfway in the ground?)
World Famous Cadillac Ranch
Fiona's inner vandal made a rare appearance, as she picked up a half used can of spray paint and started tagging one of the Caddys, showing everyone how they do it back in the 626!
After this blatant act of graffiti, it was time to say goodbye to Dave. Keith, a.k.a Unleaded from the Great Unsponsored Nova Scotia Expedition was already en route to Elk City, our designated meeting place, and all this sightseeing and wanton destruction of private property had put us behind schedule.
With little choice, Sleeping Beauty and I jumped on the superhighway, a bittersweet straight-line way to end the journey, but, due to the lack of time, completely necessary.
Unleaded in Elk City
Unleaded Proudly Rides Little Baby Ooops
The ride to Casa Unleaded was mostly uneventful, save for one interesting photo op I spied and quickly snapped as a tribute to my missing riding buddy Abi.
An Official Oklahoma City Lighthouse
A few hundred miles of highway later, we arrived at Keith's house, eagerly anticipating our last meeting of the ride - Little Baby Ooops herself.
Danica - The Newest Expedition Member
Sleeping Beauty Looks Comfortable... A Little TOO Comfortable!!
Gratuitous Cute Baby Pics
Pulling into Keith's garage for the final time, I had that familiar melancholy feeling. Fiona would fly out (again) and I would go back to work (already) and the first leg of this early season ride would come to a close (too soon). Though it had it's share of ups and downs, we toasted the Best Day Ever, the Best Ride Ever, and the Best Baby Ever until we were completely out of happy juice.
The Entire 3140 Mile Route
Rain Cloud Follows will rest comfortably in Oklahoma for a while, but that doesn't mean no riding for us motorcycle addicts. In May, Fiona and I go down, to Australia and a week of riding a rented FJR on the wrong side of the road with my old friend Dan. Then, in early June we'll head back to Oak City for the second leg of this ride, doing Denver and a return to the Motorcyclist Cafe Barn and Bunkhouse. If we're lucky (and I have to say it, we are VERY VERY lucky!) by mid summer we'll end up in a dark bar somewhere in my adopted home of California with another napkin and frosty pint of Guinness in hand making some more ride plans.
Until then, Happy Riding!
What a joke! That's what the weather-heads called it. Calling the ferocious, ridiculously high gusts of rapidly moving air a 'Wind Event' is like calling the sinking of the Titanic a 'Boating Event.'
Mother Nature's mood that morning could best be summed up with two words: Sucks and Blows. If we put something down while loading Rain Cloud Follows, it blew away. Fiona's sunglasses disappeared for a while, we finally found them twenty feet away behind a curb. My gloves ended up under a parked car. I'm honestly surprised the motorcycle hadn't blown over in the night. We both were laughing at the strength of the wind, but it wasn't a funny laugh, it was more of the nervous, 'Are-we-really-going-to-try-and-ride-in-this-****' kind.
As soon as we got on the road, the laughing stopped, and the crying began. Rain Cloud Follows bucked like a rodeo bull as the angry masses of air attacked. Immediately, a huge gust of wind grabbed my map holder and tried to launch my map to Oz.
Then, we passed a freshly plowed field. The hurricane force sent dirt and dust flying across the road, coating everything with a fine film of grit, making it impossible to see.
The bike pitched around violently, and I leaned at ridiculous angles just to keep it going straight. Gusts would blow us across the lane and back with alarming regularity. Frustrated, I pulled off the highway.
I turned and shouted to Fiona, "I don't know about this!"
She shouted back, "We're already in it, let's keep going for a while!" Turning around to make sure I heard correctly, I noticed she was actually smiling.
She is the voice of reason in this relationship. She is also 100% crazy.
I got back on the road, and the wind showed no mercy. It pummeled us from the left, and when that got tiring, it switched around and pummeled us from the right. It was extremely brutal riding.
Futilely Shaking My Fist at the Wind
Note the building behind me in the picture. I think the third Little Pig lived there, and even though this house was made of stone, Mother Nature huffed and puffed, and the roof blew clean off.
One interesting byproduct of all this wind is fire. We passed burning buildings and brush fires as we fought our way through the onslaught.
Riding in vicious wind like this is a lot like hitting yourself in the head with a hammer. It feels really good when you stop.
Two hundred seventy miles later, it felt really good when we finished battling the wind for the day and arrived at our new friend DarthRider's house.
Since I started posting ride reports, DarthRider, a.k.a. Dave has consistently extended an invitation for us to come and stay with him and his wife Betty. Way back in the 'Map-kin Planning' days, I realized that Dave's home was somewhat close to Houston, relatively speaking, and gladly accepted his kind offer.
Don, Dave, Betty and Two Windblown Strangers in Amarillo
Dave, his wife Betty and friend Don extended every courtesy and kindness to us, stories and laughs were swapped, beers were drained, a fantastic steak dinner was consumed and we stayed up late into the cool and mercifully windless night. It will never cease to amaze me that total strangers can forge such an instant bond, all because of a shared love of motorcycles.
That's why I ride.
The next morning we slept in, recovering from the beating Mother Nature doled out the day before. Though we had plans to meet Keith somewhere and ride to his house in Oklahoma City - the self-designated end of this leg of the ride - there was too much to see around DarthRider's home town to just leave.
Later that morning, Don returned with his Harley, Dave fired up his Triumph, and we motored out to nearby Palo Duro Canyon State Park.
Donson on the Digital Bitch
Dave on his Wheelie Machine
New Friends in Palo Duro State Park
From the canyon, DarthRider led me and Sleeping Beauty to another place that has long been on my list of places to see; Stanley Marsh 3's Cadillac Ranch! (note: it's NOT Stanley Marsh the Third, it is Stanley Marsh Three. What else would you expect from a nutter that buries ten Cadillacs halfway in the ground?)
World Famous Cadillac Ranch
Fiona's inner vandal made a rare appearance, as she picked up a half used can of spray paint and started tagging one of the Caddys, showing everyone how they do it back in the 626!
After this blatant act of graffiti, it was time to say goodbye to Dave. Keith, a.k.a Unleaded from the Great Unsponsored Nova Scotia Expedition was already en route to Elk City, our designated meeting place, and all this sightseeing and wanton destruction of private property had put us behind schedule.
With little choice, Sleeping Beauty and I jumped on the superhighway, a bittersweet straight-line way to end the journey, but, due to the lack of time, completely necessary.
Unleaded in Elk City
Unleaded Proudly Rides Little Baby Ooops
The ride to Casa Unleaded was mostly uneventful, save for one interesting photo op I spied and quickly snapped as a tribute to my missing riding buddy Abi.
An Official Oklahoma City Lighthouse
A few hundred miles of highway later, we arrived at Keith's house, eagerly anticipating our last meeting of the ride - Little Baby Ooops herself.
Danica - The Newest Expedition Member
Sleeping Beauty Looks Comfortable... A Little TOO Comfortable!!
Gratuitous Cute Baby Pics
Pulling into Keith's garage for the final time, I had that familiar melancholy feeling. Fiona would fly out (again) and I would go back to work (already) and the first leg of this early season ride would come to a close (too soon). Though it had it's share of ups and downs, we toasted the Best Day Ever, the Best Ride Ever, and the Best Baby Ever until we were completely out of happy juice.
The Entire 3140 Mile Route
Rain Cloud Follows will rest comfortably in Oklahoma for a while, but that doesn't mean no riding for us motorcycle addicts. In May, Fiona and I go down, to Australia and a week of riding a rented FJR on the wrong side of the road with my old friend Dan. Then, in early June we'll head back to Oak City for the second leg of this ride, doing Denver and a return to the Motorcyclist Cafe Barn and Bunkhouse. If we're lucky (and I have to say it, we are VERY VERY lucky!) by mid summer we'll end up in a dark bar somewhere in my adopted home of California with another napkin and frosty pint of Guinness in hand making some more ride plans.
Until then, Happy Riding!
Niehart
Pie Smuggler
I have enjoyed the road show. Thanks for taking me along.
Good thoughts go out to Abi.
Good thoughts go out to Abi.
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FJRBandit
Well-known member
Awesome report Frenchy! Not only was it a fun read, it was very informative and gave me a few more waypoints for my next trip out West. Gotta hand it to Sleeping Beauty, she is a trooper! I'm fortunate enough to have a trooper back there too. If you guys are ever down South, swing on through Birmingham, we've got a couple of extra bunks for you at our place. Our best to Abi as well.
BTW, for those of you that haven't read Ghost Rider by Neil Peart noted in Frenchy's final leg post (with awesome pic I might add), that is a must read.
BTW, for those of you that haven't read Ghost Rider by Neil Peart noted in Frenchy's final leg post (with awesome pic I might add), that is a must read.
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