Charlie and I took a whirlwind trip out west last week in preparation of a busy season soon to be upon us. We shouldn't have went at all, as much has changed recently and sometimes it's best to not return too often to the scene of so many awesome memories. Charlie is a very sensitive dog, very quick to pick up on my moods, and was not her usual spry self on the trip. It…

The MiniVan Gogh One of the reasons that we choose underrated methods of conveyance for our travels is that it allows us to fly beneath the radar. Never the flashiest or fastest motorcycles, as they tend to draw the most attention from thieves as well as the local constabulatory (now THERE'S an example of redundancy), but inexpensive but effective are the adjectives we look for in a vehicle. Which is why we have a 2005…

A fact that I sometimes forget: you lose approximately 10 degrees for every thousand feet of elevation, and we're camped at 9000'. I won't bore you with the math, mainly because I'm too cold to puzzle it out myself, but the answer to the equation is "cold enough". My little propane heater gave up the ghost in the wee hours, and the temperature has plummeted as surely as the sun rises, with both dogs burrowed…

I coasted the bike into the garage, closing the overhead door by hand so the motor wouldn't wake anybody in the house. Sitting my aching fanny on one of the lawnmower tires, I gingerly unsnapped the buckles of each of my Alpinestar boots and eased into the kitchen on sweaty sock feet; it looked like I had made it home free. Then "CLICK". The harsh light of reality in the form of the kitchen lights…

A long time ago on a incredibly hot, hot, summer day, I was poking around in an old dried up creek bed back in the woods behind my Granny Tucker's farmhouse. I was tired, hot and bored, and I also had snakes perpetually on my brain. But I wasn't skeered, as I was sufficiently armed (I thought) with my trusty lever-action Daisy BB gun. Then I heard the most distinct rattle, origininating from somewhere down…

I coasted the bike into the garage, closing the overhead door by hand so the motor wouldn't wake anybody in the house. Sitting my aching fanny on one of the lawnmower tires, I gingerly unsnapped the buckles of each of my Alpinestar boots and eased into the kitchen on sweaty sock feet; it looked like I had made it home free. Then "CLICK". The harsh light of reality in the form of the kitchen lights…

Enough already with the steady diet of the Corvacalypse; it's Charlie Bravo Day! As an added bonus, a good friend of ours is completing his last sessions of chemotherapy and radiation today, and Charlie, Zach and I are joining with a group of riders to give him a motorcycle escort back to his own Casa; stay tuned. Anyway, back to the subject at paw, dogs; what prompts this hold that dogs have upon us? Does…