Day Fifteen by Dave Schultheis
Friday, June 7, 2002 - The M Lazy C Ranch near Lake George, Colorado
I slept okay. Had to make a bathroom pilgrimmage 1:30-ish. Resolved to get a pair o' cheap slippers or an empty bottle for next time. I was awake about 5:40 a.m. with sun shining in the window.
It was a little chilly in the cabin, so Tim made coffee and I plugged in the oil heater. I got up at 6:35 a.m., dressed and made some notes.
Once I was up and dressed and outside, the weather was quite nice, cool with sunshine; I was comfortable in a short-sleeves shirt.
We waited for the 8:00 o'clock bell and were ready when it sounded. The ranch puts on an absolutely wonderful breakfast, including scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, biscuits and gravy, juice and toast. There were about a dozen of us and we ate well.
After breakfast, we could hear motorcycles coming down the road, so we went to look and in rolled Ira ("daPrez") and his friend David Dunn, who had ridden 19+ hours and 1040 miles from the Oklahoma City area. A few of us signed the Iron Butt Association paperwork so they could get their one thousand mile (in less than 24 hours) awards.
Then, in came Don T. from Colorado Springs on his Sportster. He said it had been a long ride, 44.3 miles, and he had stopped to rest three times.
Greg ("Gopher") arrived from the Phoenix area by pickup truck as he'd had motorcycle problems. Good thing, though, because his amateur radios came in handy later.
Becky F. came in by rental car, another good thing because that car came in handy later. She brought a tent and I helped her (watched her) set it up under the trees, among the cow (or bear) patties.
Those present were notified by ranch personnel that a bike was broken down on the road, so several of us walked up to see if we could help. It wasn't far but it was uphill, so some of us made it more quickly than others. It turned out to be Jim Butler from Detroit. The belt had broken on his black Road King Classic. He got mired in the deep sand and the bike had fallen over. I don't recall the damage being too severe but a broken belt usually requires a trip to the shop. Right behind Jim was Andrew "BuzzardKiller" Jones, who had helped him get the bike upright again.
The crowd guided the motorcycle down the hill and into camp, and then the fun began when Jim called the towing service and tried to 'splain to them where he was located. Fortunately for them, Jim is a very patient and even-tempered guy.
He waited a good long time for the tow truck, but meanwhile Jon Morgan from Sacramento arrived from somewhere back east, where he'd attended another party.
As lunchtime approached, and lunch was not provided by the ranch, we started talking about picking up something, and the staff suggested Oney's pizza in Florissant. We came up with an order and I called it in, then Becky and I took the rental car into Lake George, picked up Jim's wife Pat at a motel and drove into Florissant.
After a wait, we took $65.21 worth of pizza back to the ranch, shared it around, put out a collection jar and I later got a $60 reimbursement.
Someone had an idea to park a bunch o' bikes in front of the old covered wagon near the General Store. We were able to get six of 'em parked in position, and some photos were taken, including one with Amanda on the wagon, at the reins.
Incoming: Dave Bergeron, John Bergeron from NH, and their friends Marshall and Bret. Later, Sasquatch (Mike B.), Ironhorse and his friend Bob from Cedar Rapids, Dave Nichols with his Uni-go trailer full of precious hand-made liquid cargo.
The tow truck for Jim Butler's bike arrived at 3:15 p.m. The guy loaded the bike onto the flatbed and took it and Jim and Pat back toward Colorado Springs.
Incoming: Steve Liggett on his Road Glide, Rich Johns on his Road King, Youngblood from SF and Steph from SoCal., TL Mitchell from Ohio, Bob Anver from Portland OR, Tom Koehler from the midwest, and Kurt (the Korporate Spy) Bigalke from WI.
Another contingent came in from the pacific northwest: Chuck and Barb Lanter (one red bike, one green bike) from Idaho and Dennis and Nancy ("Big Red") Peterson from WA. As this group arrived, Snarl wandered into the common area and leaned forward at the waist, away from the bikes, while dp piloted his RK into position for what might be described as a "goose," a rather firm "goose," and the Snarly one almost went flying. But he recovered quickly and walked over to # 53 and gave him a great big wet one. I don't know what happened after that because I suddenly went blind, so I don't know if 8 bucks changed hands or not. (Or in which direction.)
Evening approached and some folks went to dinner in town. I cannot report on that, but stories have been told, and may be told again.
Some time after 9 p.m., Nancy ("Viking Queen"), who had flown in from Hawai'i, rolled in on a rented bike, along with David (MANDKIM) Stone. They had evidently run across each other at a restaurant.
Conversations, and adult beverages, went on for hours. These conversations among new and old friends are at the core of I.R.L. ("in real life") get-togethers.
It had been a long, hot day at the ranch, so I got to bed around 10 p.m., followed later by TL on the second bed, with Tim O. on the rollaway and Kurt (in a Motor Company sleeping bag, with thermarest) stumbling in much later.
Mile for the day = 0 by motorcycle. Miles for the trip = still 4613.
Tomorrow: A helmetless ride, a hospital trip, lots of black smoke, and an award ceremony of sorts.