I am a member of Bikers Against Child Abuse. The die has been cast. The decision has been made. I have stepped over the line. I wont look back, let up, slow down, back away, or be still.
My past has prepared me, my present makes sense, and my future is secure. Im finished and done with low living, sight walking, small planning, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tamed visions, mundane talking, cheap giving, and dwarfed goals.
I no longer need pre-eminence, prosperity, position, promotions, plaudits, or popularity. I dont have to be right, first, tops, recognized, praised, regarded, or rewarded. I now live by the faith in my works, and lean on the strength of my brothers and sisters. I love with patience, live by prayer, and labor with power.
My fate is set, my gait is fast, my goal is the ultimate safety of children. My road is narrow, my way is rough, my companions are tried and true, my Guide is reliable, my mission is clear. I cannot be bought, compromised, detoured, lured away, turned back, deluded, or delayed. I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of adversity, negotiate at the table of the enemy, ponder at the pool of popularity, or meander in the maze of mediocrity. I wont give up, shut up, let up, until I have stayed up, stored up, prayed up, paid up, and showed up for all wounded children. I must go until I drop, ride until I give out, and work till He stops me. And when He comes for His own, He will have no problem recognizing me, for He will see my BACA backpatch and know that I am one of His. I am a member of Bikers Against Child Abuse, and this is my creed.
I’ve been involved with BACA since 1998. I’ve seen some really terrible shit. Things a kid should never experience, let alone hear about. I’ve helped change some of that. It’s the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done.
You got to roll with the punches, and get to what’s real.
I’ve been moving all day. Hell, pretty much all week. I’m pretty beat. Having a brewski, kicking back and enjoying a moment in the new house.
My kids are digging it. New rooms, new situations and after years of pushing them pretty hard to get a work ethic, I can see that starting to stick. Just like my old man did to me. They did good today. It makes me pretty proud.
I was born and raised here. Left here when I was 16. Its funny. Back then, all I wanted was to get out of here. Now, I’m just glad to be back.
I’m 46. I look at my life, and I wouldn’t change a thing. I’ve paid a few dues, had some great times and I can’t bitch about a thing. In fact, its the opposite. I really dig my life. “Perspective” has been on my mind all week. I want to make a post about it, just not right now.
Thank God for your darkest, shittiest moments in life. I’m not sure how some people shoot out the other side and why some people fold, but my worst times have formed me into something I like. I feel pretty lucky most days.
Another step in getting back to my rockabilly. The road back is looking pretty good methinks.
Tonight, I thought my husband was acting weird. We had made plans to meet at a nice restaurant for dinner. I was shopping with my friends all day long, so I thought he was upset at the fact that I was a bit late, but he made no comment on it. Conversation wasn’t flowing, so I suggested that we go somewhere quiet so we could talk. He agreed, but he didn’t say much. I asked him what was wrong; He said, ‘Nothing.’ I asked him if it was my fault that he was upset. He said he wasn’t upset, that it had nothing to do with me, and not to worry about it. On the way home, I told him that I loved him. He smiled slightly, and kept driving. I can’t explain his behavior I don’t know why he didn’t say, ‘I love you, too.’ When we got home, I felt as if I had lost him completely, as if he wanted nothing to do with me anymore. He just sat there quietly, and watched TV. He continued to seem distant and absent. Finally, with silence all around us, I decided to go to bed.
About 15 minutes later, he came to bed. But I still felt that he was distracted, and his thoughts were somewhere else. He fell asleep – I cried. I don’t know what to do. I’m almost sure that his thoughts are with someone else. My life is a disaster.
There’s not many things better than being out in the middle of nowhere on a bike. With a bike, you know you can enjoy it and end up back somewhere.
Just make sure you’ve calculated the gas mileage right.
I’m a Led Zeppelin Fan, and a big fan of Robert Plant. I know where this video was filmed. I’ve been there.
The school house he’s in was filmed in Bundyville, Just south of where I used to live for a handful of years. It burned down not long after this was filmed. Out in the Arizona Strip, south of St George Utah.
Great song. I could be out in the middle of nowhere, and you couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. Hope that bike starts.
Hope you and yours are having a good 4th of July. Here’s to long roads, sweeping turns, a family who’s got your back, and friends to laugh with when and where you stop. Whatever land you hail from, be proud of your heritage methinks. There’s always something good in there.
Maybe, the best money a man can spend is to buy the boxed set of Band of Brothers. I’m a fan. In my opinion, we’re still swinging from the balls of these guys that did their duty for the sake of doing it. With some hard work, they influenced the whole world, just by doing so. To me, It was the greatest generation.
Dick Winters died in 2011 at the age of 92. He was in the trenches, led men like himself into battle and came home to fight the battles we fight every day. This local news clip is about him.
Pretty cool.
I give you Vera Lynn. Listen to this song, and before you dismiss it as old, watch the video that comes with it. Singing about the times. About going to war, and wondering if your kids or husband was coming home. About right and wrong of the times. About meeting again. The same things we value this day, just in a different melody. People don’t change much.
Been riding the bike daily since I got home. Doing some customer service calls on it, and finding it to be a nice ice breaker. If you ride…. no matter what you ride…. People like to talk about it. It solves some problems. I think I’m onto something.
The Road King, down by Utah Lake in Vineyard Utah.
Last Friday, It was my wifes family annual reunion. I’ve been doing it for almost 23 or 24 years. I’ve lost count. She headed up that night, and my plan was to head up the next day on the bike. I needed a night off, and my wife has always been cool enough to not give me any crap about that sorta stuff. I’m fairly positive I’m pretty lucky that way.
I woke up the next morning and read my emails. Someone had hit me up from this here blog and told me that the Kozy Cafe Was Open over in Echo. I’d said something about this place before. The thought of breakfast there got me fairly inspired, so I got my act together and pointed the bike that way. It’s not that far away, and that place is old and has character. Nice bonus to the day.
Headed through Heber City northbound. Up through Parleys Summit.
Heber is a funny place. I’m originally from Orem, which is probably considered Northern Utah. When I was 16, I wasn’t so good a kid (I thought I was). A lot of factors (including that one) combined to me being moved by my parents, 6 months before I got my drivers License to southern Utah, 5 hours south.
I chose to live in Wasatch County. Maybe thats why I like it. I moved here as an adult, and to me there’s just a good feeling here. Anyway, whatever.
Apparently I take a lot of pictures of my bike. There will be more. I’m not sure what else to take a picture of. This is at the Top of Parley’s Summit, trying to find an old road that I couldn’t get to.
Headed up through Parleys Canyon, and then through East Canyon, toward Henifer and Echo. I was getting hungry, and it was getting late. I can’t keep this up on beef Jerky. Up through East Canyon.
Up in the Quaking Aspens of Easy Canyon.
Utah is killer. At least, I think so. A week or so ago I’d ridden half way across America, and not on a road like this.
Hrm, the donner Party came this way. I’m hungry, but not that hungry. Ten more miles and I can eat at that reopened cafe in Echo
The best thing about a road king is you can take the windshield off if you want to. I pulled into Echo.
Reminds me of Roys, in AmboyFrom the 2005 Movie World’s Fastest Indian. Hollywood does a little photoshoppin, it seems.
Echo is really small. Like, really small. It had an important part in the history of this area — an old railroad town at the junction of a few canyons that joined evanston Wyoming to Salt Lake City back in the day. It’s had a long history, but I didn’t know any of it. When the interstate came in, the town dried up. It reminds me of route 66. There’s not many places up here like that. They’re just all gone.
Kozy Cafe. It’s like stepping back into time. Its clean, not updated since the 70s, and is pretty cool.
The waitress was young and had a natural smile on her face. She had that look about her that this was either her first job, or she was in the family. It was noon by now, so I had me a Jalapeno Burger and the food was quite good for a joint that you can’t see from the freeway. In fact, it was really good. Signs of a place that’s trying to build or keep your business. I hope they make it. Either way, I ate here and gave em a buck, and I hope to be back. Had a beer, gave her a good tip and went out and explored a bit of Echo.
Love that old neon sign. They don’t make em like this anymore.Back in the day they advertised air conditioned rooms. Not much movement around the old Motel Now.Can’t get gas here now, Frank I bet, was in a good spot when he opened this place. I bet cars were piling up. Radiator belts and gas at 36 cents a gallon. Money in your pocket.The Echo Cafe in Echo Utah. A stones throw from the Kozy.Main Street in Echo Utah.
Not many places have this much 1950’s style. I wanted to know more, and drink in a little local history. People had lived here, worked here and got paychecks from here for generations. It was a big part of somebody’s life, and I felt the need to find out more.
My inlaws say they used to come here back in the 60’s. The lake was nearby, and they ate, drank and danced in their younger years.
Turns out, Echo had a lot to do with settling this region.There’s quite a few plaques in Echo. If you stop, you could learn a thing
I headed east down the Echo Main Drag, looking for clues. The family Reunion I felt was fine, I was 30 minutes away. Curiosity got this cat, and by this point I had to know.
Transcontinental Railroad. Boom Town. I found an old church.
They had an an old museum downstairs. The lights didn’t work, and I had to squint for most of it. Signs of a place that is struggling to pay for itself. This is a great old town so far, and needs to be preserved. There is some history here. Some old man with an old dog was guardian of this place, and he sat below the pulpit. I nodded, and headed into the museum part, downstairs.
Lots of homer stuff:, just like you’d expect. Perfect: When Echo took 2nd place in the state championship in basketball in 1942, People who died in WWII that lived in Echo, and History of the transcontinental railroad that brought life to this area. This one stuck out to me:
This was my favorite. Click on this to enlarge. An advertisement, for another day. I might have applied. Click to Enlarge.
I hung out a little more, put 20 dollars in the kitty and headed out of town. Echo, you told me who you are. Please, keep it up. I will for sure be back.
Headed towards Morgan Utah, and into the family Reunion. At the Lions Lodge, where Mrs Zips Grandpa was a member for a lot of years. We had fun for the next 2 days.
If you lived in Echo, I’d love to hear your stories, whatever they are. Post em if you got em.
Its summer up here now. Hit 100 degrees today, or damn close. It’s so much different than living in the desert the last 30 years. When its warm, everyone has an activity, or a ride, and you make hay while the sun shines. Since getting home, I’ve had a ton of fun, but this weekend I’m going to do absolutely nothing. Ahhhh, how ’bout a little nothing?
Flashback to June 1st.
Woke up that morning and got my shit together and met big D in the lobby of the Hotel. We were flying out together, and it was nice to see a familiar face for one last time. We hit the shuttle, and said our goodbyes in the half hour ride to the Airport.
Flew Home.
My plan was to stay at my older brothers house, and cook some ribs for a family get together the next day. Skeezix had just bought a new smoker, and we were going to dial that bad boy in. He bought 12 racks of ribs, and we’d smoke em on both of our smokers, have a few single malts and maybe a good cigar, and shoot the shit about the ride, life and whatever else comes to mind.
After my wife refused that plan in a way that no man could deny, I woke up the next morning in my own bed headed to Draper to meet up with my brother.
Pulled into my brothers house and started prepping for the biggest BBQ I’d ever done. Planned on 50 people, and I was in charge of the spare ribs. Apple wood smoked for 6 hours, and my homemade BBQ sauce recipe.
My Bro and I, making the BBQ sauce. After eating real texas BBQ, I’ll never sauce a rib again. Its on the side if you want it.We ended up smoking 9 racks, and they turned out good. BBQ is like golfing. You can always think you coulda played that one hole better.The oldest granddaughter (and my favorite niece), and my 101 year old Grandma. She’ll make 102 Easy.1967 Lincoln Continental that was owned by my Dad.
Our oldest brother showed up in the Lincoln. My dad bought this car in 1986. I helped him strip it down, and build it back up. Suicide doors, power steering, cruise control, monster engine. Classic Detroit Sled. My Oldest brother bought it later down the line, and finished it off. He did a killer job. The old man would have been proud.
Joking with my brother. He’s a good soul.
The plan was… (and I missed the memo), was that this day was our Fathers Birthday. We were all to bring something that reminded us of dad.
I will say this: Vern Dunn was a solid and good man. There are not many who are born into the world who had the charisma, the compassion and the sheer ability to kick ass as my dad did, all in the right combinations. Just a good man. We’re all proud to spring from the guy. We all took our turn and told a story about our father.
Pat (Skeezix, as named by my dad), telling a story about our pop.The beat goes on. My kids never knew him. Missus Zip, the kids and I listened In. Values, they happen from the ground up. Glad to see them sticking.We all took our turn, and told our stories. A good day.
I started to blog to remember the trips I’ve made a bike over the years. I look back on it, and I read them, as a record of things I want to remember in life. This is one of those days. Pretty cool. When you strip it all down to nothing, family means everything.
