The Fathers Day Ride

Father's Day is for BBQs, Hawaiian shirts, straw hats, sandals and an Alaskan Amber. The kids buy their dads ties, handkerchiefs or wallets..  As they get older these gifts turn into baseball caps, BBQ sets, aprons and if the kids are rich, a Traeger.

We attended the Saturday vigil because on Fathers Day we are getting up early for a long ride. Such convenient options for worship in the Catholic Church. We heard from Fr Luis about different kinds of dads. Even when placed into one of Father's suggested categories the kids may not grow up as expected.  I have known kids with less than great Christian dad models who grew into more than great Christian adults.  And there are those who provided a good model but the kids choose other routes.  I know Charlie was thinking about this as we started our atypical Father's Day.  And he was thinking about his dad, too.

We rode out Highland to Feedville to Despain Gulch. We got a hold of Whitney this time.  We stood at the Westerlund Road eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches when we saw the Porter's white pick up coming down the hill, throwing billows of dust to announce our friend's arrival.  Whitney jumped out of the truck and gave us a big Hello!  Just a few years ago, the  Pendleton Round-up Princess Whitney did a magnificent run-in on a beautiful quarter horse. The track at Round -up Stadium was perfectly groomed and watered so that no dust would occlude the vision of the lovely princess in her knee high boots and leather regalia jumping the railing on her horse.  Today's entrance was much different, but met with the same excitement as if we were watching her at the roundup.  We are glad to know Whitney as a friend and colleague and are proud of the all around awesome parent and professional she has become   For many years we  worked  beside her in the holding pen and in more recent times we have admired her from afar with our binoculars from the highest row in the south grandstands. Today she brought her dust and we brought our sweat and chain grease and we made the best time of a few minutes together.

66 miles can get pretty boring from the stokers view . Charlie has a strong broad back that I can't see around. So I was back to entertaining myself by making lists of things I spot  in the ditch.  In the clothing category there were three gloves, unmatched, a  couple of raggedy shirts and one pair of men's whitey tidy unders (gross). I could have started building a car from tires and wheels, a muffler. two hubcaps and a license plate identified as we rode by. The oil for the vehicle could be gleaned from drips left in oil bottles and cans discarded on the roadside.  An oil filter and a beat up air filter were in the ditch but miles apart. If I needed it, a strategically located roll of TP came into view.  This weeks "unusual items thrown out of cars" champions were a yellow rubber duck and an aluminum pan with what looked like the dinner contents still cooking In the dead animal category a large badger was in the oncoming lane and three birds met their demise in the windshields of speeding motorists. An identified carcass was stripped clean by roaming carnivores I am sure.  As for living creatures Charlie's saw the shadow of vultures circling  (a portent of doom?) From my backseat view I watched a big deer bounding through the ripening wheat parallel to us as if challenging a race.  I didn't really see a live person and this may be a figment of my imagination...But there must be an individual who drives this road a lot. I hope he/she is still living.. Perhaps trying to get his courage up for who knows what, he/she drinks pint bottles of whisky. There are dozens of empty pint whiskey bottles on about a two mile stretch of this road

If my friends got together and walked this route to pick garbage I think we would collect a few dump trucks full. After observing 66  miles of litter I wanted to shout out, "Come on people, let's keep the ditches clean so this stoker can write about flowers and mountains and wildlife instead of roadside waste".  Oh yeah, waste, the human kind.  I haven't seen any of THAT kind, but I do see plenty of pee in Gatorade bottles.  "Come on people, we are in the middle of nowhere.  You can stop your car and pee outside here!  There's even toilet paper at mile marker 19."

Charlie has been waiting for me to turn left onto highway 18 ( in my story). The wind hit him head on and we both pedaled with all we had to get up the steep inclines. Then we hunkered down and held on against the gusts, gliding to the bottom of the rolly and up the next polley.  The Cold Springs Grange came into view, a much needed rest stop.  I anticipated sitting on the steps to eat my lunch. Alas, it's someone's home.  We took refuge under a far tree and ate baked potatoes with taco sauce and boiled eggs.   Father and son riders from Pendleton stopped for a chat, also taking a Father's Day ride.  They were the only other cyclists we saw this day.  Next we pedaled Cold Springs Road, past Soreys arena (Whitney's sister) and stopped at Bracher's oasis where we napped on the lawn a refreshed our water supply.

If you readers are growing weary of this story imagine how we felt living it,  Seven or eight miles  miles from the Bracher's we passed the Hamen's, cruised the long steep grade down to highway 730 and pedaled into Hat Rock .  It was 2:57 pm and the store, reportedly open until three was locked up tight.  Charlie, who is ever so good at getting things to happen, found the cook and procured two bottles of much needed Gatorade.  A quick spin to the boat launch bathrooms and back we went to highway 730. Impending storm clouds and sore butts compelled the stoker to order the most direct route home. Diagonal road.  Today the semi truck drivers slowed and gave us  alot of room.. Four wheel drive diesel pickups and rvs pulling boats were less than mindful about the safety margin needed.

Home at last, I took a quick shower, downed my PD meds
 and fell fast asleep. I woke up from the sound of my own snoring and heard the guys entering the house.Charlie did not get a wallet or tie or BBQ tools for Father's Day. And his wife didn't make him dinner.  He got take out BBQ ribs and chicken and scrumptious salads.  When he called me to dinner I literally bounced out of bed, skipped down the hall and presented myself with a big. TaDah!  "You are witnessing the effects of forced exercise on the symptoms of Parkinson's disease"

And this is why I ride.  From glamour to dust, from vehicle to rust, for shelf to ditch, when life is a bitch...I can ride.

 I ride hours and miles for those moments of relief .