10. Time and Tide

Judy moved down to Big Spring after we finally found a place to live - which at that time was very hard to do. The oil boom was on! Junk houses and rathole apartments were renting for $800 to $1000 per month - many times what they were worth. Six months later the oil boom had gone bust and those same places were rentin’ for $200 and $300 a month. Such is life in the oil patch.

I introduced her around and we rode with the Big Spring Road Riders on supper rides, went to rallies with them, took any excuse to ride anywhere and really enjoyed their company. Judy, the Yankee, even developed a little drawl.

Early one spring morning we met at 7 a.m. sharp in order to ride with the group down to the annual Spring Roundup in Fort Davis, Texas, an event sponsored by the PBMA (Permian Basin Motorcycle Association) from Odessa, Texas. We always met on the dot and left promptly because this was a large group and it took longer to get them moving if late comers were waited on. So, BSRR didn't wait for anybody. I mean anybody! Ever!

On this morning, however, a curve was thrown to the ride leader, Cubby Entwhistle and he went down swinging. Sidney Shankowitz, a ne'er do well with a bad habit of being late was, in point of fact, on time! But, while today he was on time, it was only because he bypassed the gas station. No problem. We swung by The Trucker’s Buddy on the way out of town and let him fill up. In the scheme of things, it appeared no harm was done. It took only a few minutes and we all got to ride down in one big group.

Unbeknownst to us, a pair of stragglers arrived at the designated meeting place at precisely 7:04 am. Far too late to ride with the BSRR, unaware of the group's unscheduled refueling stop and being late already, these two; Howdy Piddle and Randall Rocket, took off for Fort Davis. Out on I-20 they streaked, flying low. "We'll catch 'em in 10 miles." Randall Rocket cackled. He liked nothing better than to wring out his R900RT BMW.

"Damn right!" yelled Howdy. Howdy could really ride fast this day because his wife was home sick. Without her, his light weight Suzuki GS1100 acted like a young colt. Hammer down! Get outa the way!

Meanwhile, the main body of BSRR rolled on at a sedate pace of 60 to 65 mph. Just enjoyin' the ride, Clyde! No one suspected that Rocket and Piddle were blasting westward at great speed intending to catch up with us quick!

Time has a way of passing by. After 112 miles, riding at breakneck speeds, Rocket and Piddle still had not caught up. They were getting discouraged and hungry. Also, they were running low on rocket fuel. Finally they gave up, stopped for gas and had breakfast. There, they fumed and fussed, cussin’ Entwhistle and his hardheaded insistence on leaving at precisely the appointed moment by his watch.

As they finished breakfast, Rocket glumly observed, "Time, Tide and the Big Spring Road Riders wait for no man!" Piddle nodded his head and glanced out the window of the cafe.

Suddenly, his little eyes widened as he saw the entire BSRR group passing by at that very moment. “Damnation!” he howled. “Rocket, look out there! No wonder we couldn’t catch up! We've been ahead of ‘em all this time".