Just in case you think I'm some kind of woodsy gal who beds down with the mountain goats atop Beartooth Pass or something, don't give me too much credit!
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Tag: podcast
The 2010 calling of my soul was "You need to learn to ride a motorcycle, then you need to ride it to Oregon and back." Your mileage may vary.
Imagine yourself flying along Interstate 40 and seeing a billboard advertising a hot dog stand. How un-compelling is that? Now, same scenario with a Muffler Man holding a hot dog--irresistible!
I was tempted to put down my tent at a rest stop before I got to Childress, but the big sign saying "Watch for rattlesnakes" convinced me otherwise.
But I took a wrong turn. By the time I got re-oriented my fuel light appeared. I was down to one gallon of gas, which would carry me about 60 miles.
At first I thought, Oh no, is this a meth lab motel? Then I quieted my mind and tuned in.
Motorcycling is pretty straightforward: Oh, here's water, so I'll take it slow an easy; uh oh, here's a patch of gravel, so I'll get it and go. But life doesn't always present itself in such an easy-to-figure-out way.
Carter dug Denbeigh's grave in the back yard with a little moral support from a neighbor. The old Corgi was the only dog either of my boys had ever known as a family member.
Yellowstone black bears and bison show us how to live the good life.
The 11-mile stretch is said to have 318 curves. I could believe somewhere in excess of 100 if you count the tiny wobbles off a straight line, but not 318. Oh well, why quibble? It's fun!