Lopez Island Orcas Island  Visitor's Guide 
about usadvertising ratesarchivesart and entertainment in the San Juan Islandsstories about businesses in the San Juanscalendar of eventsclassified adscolumnists
contact usstories about environmentstories about ferrieshealth-related storiesletters to the editor Links to sites San Juan Islanders may find useful non-profitsobituaries
peoplereal estatesheriff logsportshelp support your local newsthings to dovolunteer opportunities

"ROAD TRIPS" by THE OLD SQUID


Email this page to a friend

Previous columns

I Meet Jesus And Elvis In A Corner

Warmer Memories! Pt. 1

A Trip In Time

The Gorilla on the Road

The Manly Art of the Oil Change

The Scent of a Ride

B.A.D.D.

Fall Commute

Street Racing in Portland

The Shroud of Sport Tourin
(part 1)

The Vortex of Doom
(part 2)

Real Motorcycle Shops and What Dad's Are For
(part 3)

Laguna Seca-
(part 4)

Is North Really Uphill?
(part 5)

"Road Trips" by The Old Squid

"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you may be swept off to." Bilbo Baggins

Monterey, Part 3
Women

This ride was a "Boy Dog" ride, at least for the island guys. Five men, ages 40 to 60. All of us mature, tasteful, sensitive... NOT! It is amazing how quickly we found our way back to the gutter we had all climbed out of many years ago. Or did we climb out at all?. We rode hard every day. We talked bikes and we talked about the women we saw along the way just like a bunch of randy college boys. This devolution took maybe one day. Maybe less.

While with the VFR group, we tried to maintain some decorum as the Norwegian girl, Hegge, was riding with them. I say "girl" yet she was 30 years old and had two college degrees. Such is the power of the testosterone addled mind set. When we were off by ourselves tho, we indulged in politically incorrect speculation, lewd jokes, and third degree lechery with intent to gape! Damn it was refreshing! Made me feel all warm and immature again.

Early in the ride, the self same Hegge bloodied one of our number, intentionally or not, we don't know. Four of the Island Mob stayed with the VFR group in Seattle the first night. The youngest of our group, (age 40) was sitting on the couch and offered to get up and let her sit down. Smiling sweetly, Hegge said, "oh no. you're older than me. You stay there." OUCH! He had been trying to deal with turning 40 this summer and this hurt. This was partly compensated for by the Swedish woman we met two days later in Happy Camp, CA.

We had been drooling over a gorgeous Aprilla sport bike in a parking lot. Very trick and very rare when we found out it was owned by a Swedish woman who's boyfriend had given it to her! Some of us were almost willing to renounce heterosexuality for a boyfriend like that. It turned out, that he didn't even like to ride motorcycles but knew that she did so he just ponied up the $20,000 and turned her loose! (note to all wives and girlfriends: here is a significant other to pay attention too and emulate!)

We were still joking at our Birthday Boy's expense about his run in with Hegge (after all, what are good friends for?) and told the Swede what Hegge had said a couple of days before and asked her what she thought. Her reply was that "Norwegians are stupid". Well, i thought my buddy would follow her home he was so relieved. He just melted.

Now why should these two comments from two strangers be so important? So memorable? Part of the whole conundrum of the gender landscape I suppose and it doesn't matter whether you're old or young, married or single.

It was also on this day that we saw the yin and the yang of women in America. The first was in Orleans along the Klamath River. We had dropped down along a twisty Hwy 96 into the little town and I needed fuel. Besides, I'm in love with small towns and wanted to stop. I love the flavor of these small places and every time I go through one, I wonder what it would be like to live there, I live vicariously through the people I meet and talk to them to get a feel of the places they inhabit. Orleans is isolated enough so that the tide of tourism that washes through the local color hadn't destroyed it at all. It was still an honest working place. Not a Starbucks or other name brand in sight except ones like NAPA and Union 76. Working names. Small town brands.

I pulled up to the pump at a dusty little gas station and the rest of the Mob filled in alongside as they came out of the last curve. A 40 something woman came out of the station, trying to wipe dirt off of her hands and not doing a very good job of it. She was pleasant and open with a very pretty smile and asked about our ride with interest.

After I was done and as the rest filled up, I asked about restroom facilities and she said that the ones in the station were too dirty and that we should use the ones down the road at the cafe. I didn't want to walk all that way so I checked around the side figuring that I'd sneak into the woods but there was the door to the restroom so I peeked in.

It wasn't "guy" dirty, it was only "girl" dirty! There were even flowers in there fer gawds sake! Now here's a woman with black rubber dust up to her elbows (she had been mounting new tires on a customer's truck) and she was worried that the restroom wasn't clean enough for us and would make a bad impression. She needn't have worried. We were already all in love with her. She ran the gas station, changed tires, was attractive, bright. What an interesting person. This wasn't just my impression either. The other guys thought she had that spirit of being a "real, live woman" also.

She was one end of the spectrum. In Weaverville that night we met the other.

We had a motel in Weaverville reserved and we pulled in around 5 p.m. on July 3. Signs in the street told of fireworks and a dance at the local park. They do this on the 3rd so folks can rest and do family things on the 4th. Not a bad idea really. The very first thing we did was jump in the cool swim pool. This had been the warmest day so far and it had been a long, intense ride. We were wiped out and needed a break. After dinner at a local Mexican place I started exploring the town. I told the guys that I'd see them at the dance and fireworks later.

Weaverville has a bit of tourism but still has enough small town to be interesting. Besides, who can resist a 4th of July picnic and outdoor fair. I parked the Blackbird in the park and joined the large crowd at a very nicely laid out celebration at the public park next to the local school. There were rides and activities and food from local stands. Various bands played.

One of the things I found interesting was the attitudes and behavior of the local kids. They were quiet and self assured. They didn't seem to have the need to protect their turf like I've seen in other small towns. Maybe it comes from living in the top economic state in the top economic country. Two local boys came over to look at my bike and ask questions about it. They were about 16, open and friendly. They asked were I was from, all the while keeping up a running banter with each other. One was teasing the other because he had stolen his girlfriend recently!

I was surprised and said, "But no hard feeling?"

"Nah," they said. "We're still friends."

And you will be long after this girl's gone I thought. It was good to see kids as comfortable in a friendship as this.

Later I wandered over to the food and dance area again (small fairs are the same everywhere: good friends and bad food!) and ran into Marshall and Denny. I had my back to the dance floor when Marshall said, "Turn very slowly to the left."

I did and saw an absolutely stare-able woman! No, make that a stunning, no make that incredible, no ... the mind boggles! Words fail. This woman was late 20s and movie star/celebrity beautiful. She was tall, 5-feet 10 inches at least. Dark brown hair and dressed in tight pants and a tube top and she was obviously the sole guardian of two unsupported dependents which definitely had been enhanced. She radiated life and vivacity.

Marshall reminded me to close my mouth and quit drooling and after a few more looks, we both agreed that we should leave the area before we made total fools of ourselves. We simply couldn't stop staring. This woman was "drop dead gorgeous" and we had the jitters just being around her.

An aside here to all my woman readers (assuming any of you have stuck with me in this Oode to the inner teen). Many woman don't know what Drop Dead Gorgeous really means. Last year a couple of 13 year old girls used the term as a compliment about another person and I asked them if they knew what it meant. They said "It meant that someone was really pretty."

Yes, but a lot more. To a guy, it means a girl who is really beautiful. So beautiful that if you go up to her and say "Hi", shešll stare at you and say, "drop dead creep!" That's where the "drop dead" part of that term comes from. Trust me. I've been there and had it happen. Once, that was a direct quote. Other times its been implied in so many words but the message was loud and clear. Let that happen a few times and you develop a phobia and wariness around really pretty woman.

This woman was DDG in a way I hadn't seen in a long time. Marshal and I talked about this and as we talked we speculated that maybe she was so pretty that she was lonely because everyone avoided her. I thought, why not just go up and say "hi" and talk to her about her town. Or maybe be bold and ask her if her beauty was a burden. I played out a whole dialog in my mind and then walked back to where she was standing...

...walked right by and bought a corn dog! What do you think I am, stupid? No way in hell am I gonna chance talking to someone like that. She wasn't lonely and that tube top said she knew exactly what the effect those enhanced breasts had on men. Shields up! Gimme a corn dog. Let's go watch the fireworks and avoid getting burned!

The Mob all met overlooking the park for the fireworks. Glow necklaces were for sale and it was a tradition here for everyone to buy them and toss them in the air as the sky darkened while they waited. It was peaceful and quiet compared to the rather raucous 4th's I'm used to up in Washington. There were NO private fireworks in this town. Not even the safe-n-sane variety as far as I could see. Only the blue green circle of the necklaces being spun and tossed. Hundreds of them.

In Washington, we go to the Indian reservation to buy fireworks made in communist China. Then we set them off illegally to celebrate our independence. Don't ya love a universe that has a sense of irony?

It turned out that this DDG woman wouldn't be the only surgically enhanced woman we'd run into on this trip either. it seems to be quite a bit more common in California. The "umbrella girls" at the race track were a case in point. These girls have a real function at the start of the race in that the racers have to sit on the starting grid for a few minutes before the race gets underway. The riders are in full leathers and cooking in the sun so the shade is needed and even though a mechanic could hold an umbrella, with an eye to TV and spectacle, the organizers have seen to it that pretty girls hold them. These girls are part of the scene now and have achieved celebrity status at the races and are followed by fans to have their picture taken with them. Yeah, me too :-)

Most of these girls fit a common but artifical body profile too. They are tall, anorexic, and have huge breasts! Pardon me but how can they look like they have an eating disorder and still be that stacked? It doesn't look right girls. Don't do that to yourselves!

The most desirable woman we met on the whole trip was changing tires! She had a pretty smile...and intelligence...and warmth! The physically prettiest woman we met was also the scariest. And little of this has anything to do with a motorcycle trip but that's the way journeys are. Sometimes there is more than one journey happening. I guess that's why a road trip is always looked forward too.

(to be continued)

SAN JUAN ISLANDER © 2008

news @sanjuanislander.com

ABOUT US | ADVERTISING INFO | CONTACT INFORMATION |