The Charlie Bravo Story

Pandora’s Box…

a new world was opened to me yesterday…

Saturday’s sunrise broke bright and clear over the Casa to find dad outside working on some project; the acrid smell of Krylon and the whine of a Dremel filling the garage. I wasn’t until I saw him start ziptie-ing the contraption to the luggage rack of his DR650 that I realized that this was for me, to allow me to hit the road outside of the confines of a cage, er, car; no disrespect towards Miss Ellie, but four wheels move the body, two wheels move the soul.

We saddled up for a short test run, and it felt so natural that we just kept on going, ending up at the local Suzuki dealer(imagine that); dad’s DR is a faithful steed, having carried him all over the Rockies, but I’m a Honda girl; besides, the ST1300 has twice the displacement, and it’s SHINY! so I poked a few thoughts into dad’s head and home we went to see if we could mount my chariot to the Honda instead. After a few failed attempts, we came up with something I would describe as “zip-tie macrame”, and off we went for a second short run(yeah right). I will mention here that it’s dad’s misfortune that my mouth is directly at his ear level, and when we start to roll, I start to CHARK, leaving a trail of blood trickling from beneath his helmet, the result of ruptured right ear drum.


Any way, dad pulled out of the neighborhood and rolled hard on the throttle, and OUR LADY OF BLESSED ACCELERATION! this is what I’M talking about! Qverseas, this bike is called the Pan European, based on it’s ability to bite huge chunks out of the scenery; not much of a city bike, but lordy, does it chew up the miles. What was meant to be just a short shake down cruise took on a new definition as “well, we might ought to head back home” became “well, let’s go just a bit farther”, eventually finding ourselves over at the Casa don Gato, Fletch’s abode; Fletch is one of dad’s traveling buddies, and both he and his parents are world class potters, selling their works of art out of their studio, Fox Pass Pottery, located in Hot Springs, AR. Fletch suggested we make a little road trip down to LA(lower Arkansas) to pay a visit to his parental units, and even though it was a great deal further than we had earlier anticipated, why not? If you’re ever in the area, you owe it to yourself to check their place out, a true trip back in time if there ever was one; in 2012, Jim Larkin was declared an Arkansas Living Treasure for his work as a potter, and his wife Barbara is a gifted artist as well. Any place that not only allows, but welcomes, a rowdy girl like me gets the highest marks in my book.




So now, two hundred miles later, we find ourselves back at the Casa, hearts filled with the burning question: “where do we go from here?” I think everyone already knows that answer to that one:

West; maybe not tomorrow, or even next month, but it will happen.

On our short trip today, we received a smorgasbord of strange looks, ranging from “how cool is that?” to “what a couple of goobers!”, but always the unspoken question, “why?”, to which I say, “why not?” If you have the opportunity to combine some of the finest components known to man, i.e. dogs, camaraderie, motorcycles, travel, camping, danger, discomfort, why wouldn’t you? fear of what might happen? Why not “anticipation” of what might happen? I didn’t get a second chance after my reprieve from the crate to waste it on “what ifs”; yesterday is a canceled check, tomorrow is a promissory note, but today is ready cash, and I’m going to spend it freely, regardless of what Dave Ramsey preaches.

Besides, what does he know that I don’t ? let’s see him scratch his own butt without using his hands!

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