Dad here; Charlie and I will be a little scarce on social media for the next couple of weeks, as the extracurricular activities ramp up a bit.
First, mom and Alex are leaving us(sniff) to go to the coast to pick up mom’s mom. They are taking two dogs with them, St Echo of Cardiogram and Sir Bolo the Over-Caffieneted. When I questioned the wisdom of crossing the country in a hatchback packing a 2 adults, a gangly Doberman, a hypwractive four legged poop Pez dispenser and an 80 year old Asian granny, my buddy Fletch said, “yeah, about as much sense as crossing the southwest with a dog on the back of a motorcycle…”
He needs to mind his own business.
While they’re gone, my other cadre of crazies will be doing the big Special Olympics ride, and no, Charlie will not be going; she gets the other 364 days of the year, this one is mine. If you ever need an event that will rejuvenate your faith in the goodness of the human race, this is the place for you, so much joy and gratitude on the faces of both the athletes and the riders that it’s actually a bit overwhelming to say the least. Plus you get to see me make a complete and total jackass of myself, and I don’t care; it’s always a party at the Casa, but this is the catdaddy of them all.
Then the next day, Charlie, Kyle and I point the party west, riding the Suzukis across the high plains up into the Rockies before descending into the cauldron that is Moab, UT. Final destination? Don’t know. Actual route? Haven’t a clue. If the mountain passes are too clogged with snow, we go south. If the deserts are too arid to accommodate Charlie, we head back north. If it gets too intense overall, we curl up in the fetal position with our thumbs in our mouths and sob like toddlers.
We will be encountering some very special people on this trip, as we always do; stay tuned.
If someone offered me a million dollars for Charlie and a million more for the opportunity to tell her story, I wouldn’t take it. Neither would I trade places with any puffed up politician, angst-addled actor, or any other person of interest that the media would have us believe that is somehow more important than we are, so I guess that makes me a multi millionaire be default, even though that status is not reflected on my bank statement.
And I would hazard a guess that each of you reading these words have someone or something in your life that you value just as deeply, so that grants you membership in the Multimillionaire Club as well; we be of one blood, ye and I.