Long, long ago, in the summer of 1980, Judy and I were in Southern Colorado, camping and touring around this relatively unspoiled area of the state. Our friends, the Frickley’s, had gone on to Amarillo to visit old school chums, leaving us with a few days to ourselves.
We spent the good warm days touring the lightly traveled back roads, (somebody oughta write a book about ridin’ these back roads) shopping in quaint little stores, and just smellin’ the roses. Late one afternoon we came through this charming little town and decided to stop at the Mexican Cantina at the end of a dusty street.
We entered this spotlessly clean little cafe and decided this would be a good place for supper. So, we ordered the house specialty. Hot, spicy, authentic Mexican food. As our little hostess took our order, we realized that she did not habla ingles none too good.
But, I do hablo espanol! Well, a little anyway. Easily enough to get into trouble. “No problema, Senorita. Yo hablo espanol con el accento de Tejas!” I said with a big smile. Loosely translated, this means “No problem, honey. I speak a little Spanish with a Texas accent!” Right then she knew I had no more Spanish than she had English. Ah, well. That’s the fun of trying to communicate in another’s language. Everyone enjoys the mistakes!
Later in life, I would use this linguistic skill to order a hamburger for everybody in the world! What I meant was a hamburger with everything!
My worst gaffe was, “No tan de prisa, Gordita!” which means “Not so fast, fat woman!” That comment earned me a rap on top of my gourd that made my ears ring!
Another favorite of mine was picked up on a sign in the bathroom of a West Texas Wal-Mart store. “Buenos tardes, ladronnes!” While this rolls off the tongue and sounds romantic, it really means “Good evening, shoplifters!” But, I digress.
After a great meal, (true Mexican food has a fine, delicate flavor), we went to the counter to settle up. I was stiff and sore from all the ridin’ we had done and as we got our change back, I asked for a tin of aspirin. Aspirin is the great pain reliever, dramatically reducing joint inflammation and stiffness quickly.
Our little hostess smiled and said, “Si! Yo tengo aspirin aqui!” (“Yes, I have aspirin right here!”) See how easy Spanish is to learn? She was back in a flash, with a bottle of aspirin and a napkin. She opened the bottle, laid the napkin on the counter and began, “uno, dos, tres,.......” While she could easily count to ten in English, she did not pick up on the difference between tin and ten!
She was very sincere and very charming so I graciously accepted the napkin full of aspirin and we left. And...each of us still had our dignity intact!
Home again at the end of the trip, Patience and Judy got together to compare notes on what happened after they left us for Amarillo. Judy laughed when she heard the story of Frickley asking for aspirin in a Mexican Cafe.
It seems the little hostess didn’t speak much English and brought Frickley some aspirin wrapped in a tissue. She began counting, “uno, dos, tres...”
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
28. Out On Parole
The 1995 riding season was an exceptionally good one. So good in fact, that we all were reluctant to put the bikes away. Thus it came to pass that we squeezed in one more weekend trip at the last possible moment back to the Ozark Mountains for a last look at the late fall colors before winter set in and relegated us to fireplaces and cafes. And of course, as on all rides, we finished up with a visit to...Wal-Mart!
I had picked up something from the automotive department and was entering the check out line just behind Jackman. Jack, as you may recall, is my partner in crime for the evil that we do to other folk’s bikes. His mind is quick, and his wit is sharp. Today, however, it would be my turn to be on the receiving end of this double edged sword. As I came up behind him I said, jokingly, “So, parolee, how did you get back out on the street so soon?”
He caught on right away and replied, “Oh, hello Officer. Why, I’m in the criminal reimbursement program now. I’ve got a little job and I’m making restitution to all my victims.”
I was the one now that was caught off guard. I said something like, “Well...that’s good. That’s good. Glad to hear you’re stayin’ out of trouble.”
“Oh, yes, sir.” he said. “I’ve learned that I can’t just take things that don’t belong to me and hurt people any more. I’m doin’ real good long as I take my medication regular. That and observing the other conditions of my parole.”
Meanwhile the clerk has his head down and was rapidly stuffing Jack’s purchases in a plastic sack. Clearly, he wanted Jack out of his line and outta the store! The people in line behind me are shifting uncomfortably as well!
But Jack wasn’t done yet. He continued, “Just want to let you know there’s no hard feelin’s on my part. I know now that you were just doin’ your job!”
All I could come up with was more head nodding, hoping he would hurry up and leave before I had to think of something to say. But he was really on a roll and I wasn’t about to get off that easy.
On his way out the door he turned for one parting shot. Speaking louder, he said, “Oh, by the way. I’m tryin’ to get in the early work release program startin’ next week. I’ve got my psychiatric criminal evaluation appointment set up for Monday. I’ll double up on my medication the night before so I’ll be sure and pass. I just gotta get outside again! I’ll sure be seein’ YOU!” His voice went way up the scale on that last word.
Everybody in the store heard him. And I had to stand there with all the questioning stares of strangers as he swaggered out the door, more than just a little pleased with his performance.
When I got to the bikes, he was already tellin’ the others about how my little joke had backfired. He was laughing so hard the tears were streaming down his face. Did I mention he got me good? I should have.
He, too, has a good time at Wally World!
I had picked up something from the automotive department and was entering the check out line just behind Jackman. Jack, as you may recall, is my partner in crime for the evil that we do to other folk’s bikes. His mind is quick, and his wit is sharp. Today, however, it would be my turn to be on the receiving end of this double edged sword. As I came up behind him I said, jokingly, “So, parolee, how did you get back out on the street so soon?”
He caught on right away and replied, “Oh, hello Officer. Why, I’m in the criminal reimbursement program now. I’ve got a little job and I’m making restitution to all my victims.”
I was the one now that was caught off guard. I said something like, “Well...that’s good. That’s good. Glad to hear you’re stayin’ out of trouble.”
“Oh, yes, sir.” he said. “I’ve learned that I can’t just take things that don’t belong to me and hurt people any more. I’m doin’ real good long as I take my medication regular. That and observing the other conditions of my parole.”
Meanwhile the clerk has his head down and was rapidly stuffing Jack’s purchases in a plastic sack. Clearly, he wanted Jack out of his line and outta the store! The people in line behind me are shifting uncomfortably as well!
But Jack wasn’t done yet. He continued, “Just want to let you know there’s no hard feelin’s on my part. I know now that you were just doin’ your job!”
All I could come up with was more head nodding, hoping he would hurry up and leave before I had to think of something to say. But he was really on a roll and I wasn’t about to get off that easy.
On his way out the door he turned for one parting shot. Speaking louder, he said, “Oh, by the way. I’m tryin’ to get in the early work release program startin’ next week. I’ve got my psychiatric criminal evaluation appointment set up for Monday. I’ll double up on my medication the night before so I’ll be sure and pass. I just gotta get outside again! I’ll sure be seein’ YOU!” His voice went way up the scale on that last word.
Everybody in the store heard him. And I had to stand there with all the questioning stares of strangers as he swaggered out the door, more than just a little pleased with his performance.
When I got to the bikes, he was already tellin’ the others about how my little joke had backfired. He was laughing so hard the tears were streaming down his face. Did I mention he got me good? I should have.
He, too, has a good time at Wally World!
Sunday, February 21, 2010
27. Christmas At WalMart
On a happier note, another trip we took to Phoenix, Arizona with Jeannie and Paul turned out much better than that cold November ride the results of which are related in another part of this tome. Naturally, a trip to the local Wal-Mart must be worked in.
On one memorable visit, a small boy who was lost saw me and yelled, “Grampaw!” Running over to me, he grabbed my hand before he realized that I was not the Grampaw he wanted. But since he was lost, any Grampaw was better than no Grampaw! And he did not turn loose of my hand either. Any old guy with gray hair was all right with him. For now anyway.
With great big eyes, he just looked up at me, anticipating that I would fix his problem. I asked him if he was looking for his mommy and...yep; that was it. Mommy had gotten lost! So we toured the store a lane at a time till we finally found Mommy. He was really glad to see her again.
Anyway, back to the story. We had gone to this particular Wal-Mart for water, snacks and track side goodies when I spied all these cute little stuffed animals. These tiny fellows, when squeezed, would sing a little song, moo, honk, bark, meow, oink, cackle, and tell short stories! They were cute.
Tentatively, I squeezed one to see what it would do. The results were encouraging. I squeezed another, and another, and yet another, listening to the resultant cacophony with great delight. Where were these wonderful toys when I was a little hellion?
Then I got a great idea! What would happen if I squeezed all of them as fast as I could and listened to the combined chorus of voices? What happens is a severe looking little old lady rushes to the scene, and with an attitude reserved for recalcitrant schoolboys asks bitingly, “May I help you, sir?”
Smiling hugely, I said, “Yes, ma’am! If you’ll squeeze that bunch down there, I’ll squeeze all these up here at the same time. We’ll have fun!”
Moments later, I found myself out on the street, little pink ears ringing with the order, “Get out and stay out!” as shouted by the big, ugly, security guard!
I really have a good time at Wally World!
On one memorable visit, a small boy who was lost saw me and yelled, “Grampaw!” Running over to me, he grabbed my hand before he realized that I was not the Grampaw he wanted. But since he was lost, any Grampaw was better than no Grampaw! And he did not turn loose of my hand either. Any old guy with gray hair was all right with him. For now anyway.
With great big eyes, he just looked up at me, anticipating that I would fix his problem. I asked him if he was looking for his mommy and...yep; that was it. Mommy had gotten lost! So we toured the store a lane at a time till we finally found Mommy. He was really glad to see her again.
Anyway, back to the story. We had gone to this particular Wal-Mart for water, snacks and track side goodies when I spied all these cute little stuffed animals. These tiny fellows, when squeezed, would sing a little song, moo, honk, bark, meow, oink, cackle, and tell short stories! They were cute.
Tentatively, I squeezed one to see what it would do. The results were encouraging. I squeezed another, and another, and yet another, listening to the resultant cacophony with great delight. Where were these wonderful toys when I was a little hellion?
Then I got a great idea! What would happen if I squeezed all of them as fast as I could and listened to the combined chorus of voices? What happens is a severe looking little old lady rushes to the scene, and with an attitude reserved for recalcitrant schoolboys asks bitingly, “May I help you, sir?”
Smiling hugely, I said, “Yes, ma’am! If you’ll squeeze that bunch down there, I’ll squeeze all these up here at the same time. We’ll have fun!”
Moments later, I found myself out on the street, little pink ears ringing with the order, “Get out and stay out!” as shouted by the big, ugly, security guard!
I really have a good time at Wally World!
Thursday, February 18, 2010
26. Close Call
Back in the early 80’s, we accompanied our good friends, Paul and Jeannie, to the Falling Leaf Rally held every year in October. This large rally was hosted by the Gateway Riders BMW club from near St. Louis and was held in the little town of Bland, Missouri. It was reached only by riding some of the prettiest “letter” roads in Missouri.
The back roads in Missouri are coded by letters such as M highway or F highway or any other letter that the map makers and the Highway Commission happened to like. All had in common great scenery, very little traffic, and in October, rich color splashed all over the trees.
We stayed at the quaint little Belle Motel in Belle, Missouri, about five miles from the rally site at Bland. This was part of the charm of this rally; staying here with sheets that had been dried on a clothes line in the bright sunshine. They smelled so fresh and clean. And the donuts provided by the hosts early every morning along with hot coffee was not to be equaled anywhere. Best of all there was no phone and no TV!
We were headed home from one of these wonderful outings when we were destined to get behind a big, slow motor home that should have been on the main highway instead of cluttering up the twisties. Traffic was heavy on a late Sunday afternoon. We had given up on a spirited run through the curves and hills because of all the slow stuff in front of us. Paul and Jeannie were about a quarter of a mile in front of us stuck behind the previously mentioned motor home that was just poking along.
Suddenly, the Winnebago in front of Paul swerved sharply to the right, actually driving off the road! Directly in front of the Winnebago was an oncoming pickup truck whose driver was not paying attention and was way over in the on-coming lane, headed straight for Paul’s bike! He had drifted way left of center and was not aware of his position. When the Winnebago swerved to avoid the collision, Paul was totally exposed!
Paul has ridden for many years on a very nimble BMW. Lucky for him he also had a very quick reaction coupled with the superbly handling motorcycle. Thus he was able to just miss the oncoming truck. The driver of the truck helped a little bit by waking up at the last moment; realizing that he was in a pre-crash mode and jerked his wheel back to the right. They missed by mere inches and it was over in a flash. We were all shaken by how close this was and by how fast it developed!
This incident served to remind us how small the margin of error really is. Following too closely deprives the rider of critical vision of what’s waiting for us down the road. Worse yet; the bike is hidden from approaching traffic, seriously decreasing the time available for evasive maneuvers.
The Motorcycle Safety Foundation has an excellent program with video that illustrates this as well as many other hazards that the unsuspecting rider can blunder into. Take this course and watch the video carefully. They will save your life someday.
Also, play the “what if” game as you ride along. What if this car up ahead stopped unexpectedly? What if someone turned suddenly in front of me? Would I be prepared? Where would I go? What if someone did not stop when approaching me from the rear when I am at a traffic light? Did I leave enough room to make an evasive maneuver?
In over thirty years of riding, we’ve not lost anyone in our group. We want to keep it that way. Remember, too, that I’ll need material for my next book. If you check out prematurely, who will I write about?
Let’s be careful out there!
The back roads in Missouri are coded by letters such as M highway or F highway or any other letter that the map makers and the Highway Commission happened to like. All had in common great scenery, very little traffic, and in October, rich color splashed all over the trees.
We stayed at the quaint little Belle Motel in Belle, Missouri, about five miles from the rally site at Bland. This was part of the charm of this rally; staying here with sheets that had been dried on a clothes line in the bright sunshine. They smelled so fresh and clean. And the donuts provided by the hosts early every morning along with hot coffee was not to be equaled anywhere. Best of all there was no phone and no TV!
We were headed home from one of these wonderful outings when we were destined to get behind a big, slow motor home that should have been on the main highway instead of cluttering up the twisties. Traffic was heavy on a late Sunday afternoon. We had given up on a spirited run through the curves and hills because of all the slow stuff in front of us. Paul and Jeannie were about a quarter of a mile in front of us stuck behind the previously mentioned motor home that was just poking along.
Suddenly, the Winnebago in front of Paul swerved sharply to the right, actually driving off the road! Directly in front of the Winnebago was an oncoming pickup truck whose driver was not paying attention and was way over in the on-coming lane, headed straight for Paul’s bike! He had drifted way left of center and was not aware of his position. When the Winnebago swerved to avoid the collision, Paul was totally exposed!
Paul has ridden for many years on a very nimble BMW. Lucky for him he also had a very quick reaction coupled with the superbly handling motorcycle. Thus he was able to just miss the oncoming truck. The driver of the truck helped a little bit by waking up at the last moment; realizing that he was in a pre-crash mode and jerked his wheel back to the right. They missed by mere inches and it was over in a flash. We were all shaken by how close this was and by how fast it developed!
This incident served to remind us how small the margin of error really is. Following too closely deprives the rider of critical vision of what’s waiting for us down the road. Worse yet; the bike is hidden from approaching traffic, seriously decreasing the time available for evasive maneuvers.
The Motorcycle Safety Foundation has an excellent program with video that illustrates this as well as many other hazards that the unsuspecting rider can blunder into. Take this course and watch the video carefully. They will save your life someday.
Also, play the “what if” game as you ride along. What if this car up ahead stopped unexpectedly? What if someone turned suddenly in front of me? Would I be prepared? Where would I go? What if someone did not stop when approaching me from the rear when I am at a traffic light? Did I leave enough room to make an evasive maneuver?
In over thirty years of riding, we’ve not lost anyone in our group. We want to keep it that way. Remember, too, that I’ll need material for my next book. If you check out prematurely, who will I write about?
Let’s be careful out there!
Sunday, February 7, 2010
25. Back To The Big Texan
Labor Day weekend again, 1993 this time, and a much larger group headed for the Big Texan Steak Ranch in Amarillo, Texas. This time out no one was up to the challenge of the big meal, but the trip down and the good food is well worth the time and effort.
There were nearly thirty of us on this trip. We had split up in groups of four and five bikes so we wouldn’t be a traffic hazard for faster cars as well as for ourselves. Because of this defensive move, we all got to the motel at different times. Again we stayed at the adjoining motel where Judy had requested all ground floor rooms and had procured group discount rates for us all.
One couple arrived quite a bit later than the rest of us and, even with the late arrival, their room wasn’t ready! Not good. It ain’t wise to irritate a road weary couple with needless delay; especially when they’ve been on the road all day. Better have a damn good reason why this room ain’t ready.
June, the female component of this couple, lodged a modest but firm complaint. The young lady behind the counter explained that the maids were working feverishly and the room should be ready post haste.
June went outside and relayed this news to her husband, Ken. Ken is real quiet, but the kind of quiet you don’t want to push. And this situation was pushing all the wrong buttons! Together, they re-entered the lobby just in time to hear the clerk give a room to a couple at the same rate that was reserved for us as a group! That did it! June didn’t have time to attack; Ken did it for her. He blistered the air and stormed out highly peeved that their room was not only delayed, but was upstairs and on the other side of the motel, far away from the group!
On their way out the door, they nearly knocked me over as I was headed in for more complimentary coffee. Inside, I found the young lady crying. She told me she didn’t even work here. She was just helping her brother for the weekend. She further stated that those were the rudest people she had ever met! Knowing this to be untrue and that Ken and June were merely tired and frustrated. I spent a little time drinkin’ her free coffee and offering a little aid and comfort before leaving.
Moments later, the clerk called out to Ken and June that their room was at last ready for occupancy. Now, they thought, that’s more like it!
After a good shower they rejoined us on the parking lot and we all went in to supper. Again, the meal was excellent and the service was equal to the food. We wandered around the gift shop and eventually found chairs around the Texas-shaped swimming pool and enjoyed each other’s company under the bright clear West Texas night sky.
June said rather apologetically, “I don’t know what came over me this afternoon. I just never get mad and lose my temper like that.” She thought a minute and continued with a little giggle, “Sure got results though. I’ll have to remember that in the future.”
“June,” I said. “There’s a little more than that to the story. Do you remember that I was on the way in when you stormed out? Well, the girl was crying and upset so I comforted her a little and told her she should be a little more understandin’. I told her Ken had just been released from prison and was tryin’ to re-adjust to normal society! That’s why you got the room so fast!”
June cringes every time I tell this story, mildly protesting that it didn’t happen just that way. Still, it illustrates that there is more than one way to communicate clearly!
There were nearly thirty of us on this trip. We had split up in groups of four and five bikes so we wouldn’t be a traffic hazard for faster cars as well as for ourselves. Because of this defensive move, we all got to the motel at different times. Again we stayed at the adjoining motel where Judy had requested all ground floor rooms and had procured group discount rates for us all.
One couple arrived quite a bit later than the rest of us and, even with the late arrival, their room wasn’t ready! Not good. It ain’t wise to irritate a road weary couple with needless delay; especially when they’ve been on the road all day. Better have a damn good reason why this room ain’t ready.
June, the female component of this couple, lodged a modest but firm complaint. The young lady behind the counter explained that the maids were working feverishly and the room should be ready post haste.
June went outside and relayed this news to her husband, Ken. Ken is real quiet, but the kind of quiet you don’t want to push. And this situation was pushing all the wrong buttons! Together, they re-entered the lobby just in time to hear the clerk give a room to a couple at the same rate that was reserved for us as a group! That did it! June didn’t have time to attack; Ken did it for her. He blistered the air and stormed out highly peeved that their room was not only delayed, but was upstairs and on the other side of the motel, far away from the group!
On their way out the door, they nearly knocked me over as I was headed in for more complimentary coffee. Inside, I found the young lady crying. She told me she didn’t even work here. She was just helping her brother for the weekend. She further stated that those were the rudest people she had ever met! Knowing this to be untrue and that Ken and June were merely tired and frustrated. I spent a little time drinkin’ her free coffee and offering a little aid and comfort before leaving.
Moments later, the clerk called out to Ken and June that their room was at last ready for occupancy. Now, they thought, that’s more like it!
After a good shower they rejoined us on the parking lot and we all went in to supper. Again, the meal was excellent and the service was equal to the food. We wandered around the gift shop and eventually found chairs around the Texas-shaped swimming pool and enjoyed each other’s company under the bright clear West Texas night sky.
June said rather apologetically, “I don’t know what came over me this afternoon. I just never get mad and lose my temper like that.” She thought a minute and continued with a little giggle, “Sure got results though. I’ll have to remember that in the future.”
“June,” I said. “There’s a little more than that to the story. Do you remember that I was on the way in when you stormed out? Well, the girl was crying and upset so I comforted her a little and told her she should be a little more understandin’. I told her Ken had just been released from prison and was tryin’ to re-adjust to normal society! That’s why you got the room so fast!”
June cringes every time I tell this story, mildly protesting that it didn’t happen just that way. Still, it illustrates that there is more than one way to communicate clearly!
Saturday, February 6, 2010
24. The Big Texan Steak Ranch
Just east of Amarillo, Texas, on Interstate 40 East, out near the International Airport, you’ll find the Big Texan Steak Ranch. Originally, the Big Texan was located right on Route 66, but a fire that destroyed the business made a rebuilding project necessary. Since the new Interstate 40 was nearly complete, the thinking was, ''Why not move south just a little bit and rebuild there?" That's exactly what they did. And to make it even better, a Big Texan Motel was added; complete with boarding facilities for the horses! See why Texans are just naturally smarter than the average bear?
The specialty of the house is the big, and I do mean BIG, 72 ounce sirloin; looks mighty like a big old roast. It comes with four large Texas Gulf shrimp, a dinner salad, a baked potato, and a loaf of sourdough bread. Can you eat all this in one setting? In one hour or less? Good! Then you eat free! And your name will go on the wall and in the record book as a consumer of note! You may even achieve Honorary Texan Status!
Labor Day weekend, 1988, Rootin’ Tootin’ Newton, decided he could eat this steak and we all accompanied him to serve as witnesses. On the way down we all ate lightly, especially R.T. as he was the one who had the task to perform. We arrived early in the afternoon and after checkin’ in at the adjoining motel, some of us headed out to Palo Duro Canyon for a ride on the Sad Monkey Railroad Line.
This is a narrow gauge train that runs along the floor of the Canyon. It’s named for a particular rock formation that looks like the face of a large sad monkey. Hence...the name. We piddled around there for a while with some of us eating light on hot dogs and small ice cream cones.
Returning to the motel for a quick clean-up, we assembled on the parking lot and strolled over to the big cafe. There we were met by our special waitress, Brandi, who was a senior at Baylor University and was working her last weekend before returning to classes on Tuesday. Brandi seated us, took drink orders, and returned to help R.T. understand the rules. She then announced to the crowd that a challenger had ordered the Specialty and wished him well. Did I mention that Brandi was a hottie? I should have.
R.T. had certainly given this some thought. Not wanting to fill up prematurely, he decided the sourdough bread would be his last entree because it would take on water and swell up in his tummy! Physically, mentally, and physiologically, he was ready!
In due time, the main course arrived, Brandi made the announcement to the crowd and the timer was started. He attacked the steak quickly, taking small bites of baked potato every now and then along with portions of salad and shrimp. He was Mr. Science Guy and well on his way. To give you an idea of just how big this steak is, Judy and I ordered one, just one, and shared it with two other couples and Scott! And we had plenty left over!
Was R.T really expecting to consume all this volume by himself? Can it really be done? We shall see, Watashi, we shall see.
Forty minutes later, R.T. was slowing down considerably! He was nearing the end of the big steak, but beginning to falter. He unbuttoned his levis, raised up on one cheek, and made a funny noise with his hiney! Then he allowed himself a polite little belch, took a sip of cold water, and bravely continued on. Did I mention he had this down to a science? Oh yeah, he really did.
At the forty seven minute mark, he was nearly done, but struggling mightily. Something extra was needed. Judy came up with a challenge that she would buy him a strawberry short cake with whipped cream if he could just finish the remaining few bites! That did it! He called Brandi over to inspect the plate. She took his plate to the cook, who, naturally, found one more tiny sliver of steak that R.T. had missed! Sorry, R.T. You gotta eat this one last morsel. He did. And then...and then!!! Then he ate the strawberry short cake that Judy had promised him! Now, that’s a true Texas Champion!
And as advertised, his name was duly entered on the wall and in the record book with an official time of 48 minutes and 22 seconds. Rootin’ Tootin’ Newton...Honorary Texan! Hot damn! It don’t get no better than that!
Well done, lad!
The specialty of the house is the big, and I do mean BIG, 72 ounce sirloin; looks mighty like a big old roast. It comes with four large Texas Gulf shrimp, a dinner salad, a baked potato, and a loaf of sourdough bread. Can you eat all this in one setting? In one hour or less? Good! Then you eat free! And your name will go on the wall and in the record book as a consumer of note! You may even achieve Honorary Texan Status!
Labor Day weekend, 1988, Rootin’ Tootin’ Newton, decided he could eat this steak and we all accompanied him to serve as witnesses. On the way down we all ate lightly, especially R.T. as he was the one who had the task to perform. We arrived early in the afternoon and after checkin’ in at the adjoining motel, some of us headed out to Palo Duro Canyon for a ride on the Sad Monkey Railroad Line.
This is a narrow gauge train that runs along the floor of the Canyon. It’s named for a particular rock formation that looks like the face of a large sad monkey. Hence...the name. We piddled around there for a while with some of us eating light on hot dogs and small ice cream cones.
Returning to the motel for a quick clean-up, we assembled on the parking lot and strolled over to the big cafe. There we were met by our special waitress, Brandi, who was a senior at Baylor University and was working her last weekend before returning to classes on Tuesday. Brandi seated us, took drink orders, and returned to help R.T. understand the rules. She then announced to the crowd that a challenger had ordered the Specialty and wished him well. Did I mention that Brandi was a hottie? I should have.
R.T. had certainly given this some thought. Not wanting to fill up prematurely, he decided the sourdough bread would be his last entree because it would take on water and swell up in his tummy! Physically, mentally, and physiologically, he was ready!
In due time, the main course arrived, Brandi made the announcement to the crowd and the timer was started. He attacked the steak quickly, taking small bites of baked potato every now and then along with portions of salad and shrimp. He was Mr. Science Guy and well on his way. To give you an idea of just how big this steak is, Judy and I ordered one, just one, and shared it with two other couples and Scott! And we had plenty left over!
Was R.T really expecting to consume all this volume by himself? Can it really be done? We shall see, Watashi, we shall see.
Forty minutes later, R.T. was slowing down considerably! He was nearing the end of the big steak, but beginning to falter. He unbuttoned his levis, raised up on one cheek, and made a funny noise with his hiney! Then he allowed himself a polite little belch, took a sip of cold water, and bravely continued on. Did I mention he had this down to a science? Oh yeah, he really did.
At the forty seven minute mark, he was nearly done, but struggling mightily. Something extra was needed. Judy came up with a challenge that she would buy him a strawberry short cake with whipped cream if he could just finish the remaining few bites! That did it! He called Brandi over to inspect the plate. She took his plate to the cook, who, naturally, found one more tiny sliver of steak that R.T. had missed! Sorry, R.T. You gotta eat this one last morsel. He did. And then...and then!!! Then he ate the strawberry short cake that Judy had promised him! Now, that’s a true Texas Champion!
And as advertised, his name was duly entered on the wall and in the record book with an official time of 48 minutes and 22 seconds. Rootin’ Tootin’ Newton...Honorary Texan! Hot damn! It don’t get no better than that!
Well done, lad!
Monday, February 1, 2010
23 Supper Rides; Part Two
As mentioned before, supper rides are set up to allow for good friends to interact over great and sometimes not so great meals. We are constantly on the lookout for new and different dishes. Some of the best meals we had were accidentally stumbled upon in some of the most out of the way places. Take one of the best for example, Dollar Bill’s fine little cafe in Wapanucka, Oklahoma.
We were headed for Denison, Texas to attend an all mule rodeo using the lightly traveled back roads of south central Oklahoma. We prefer this route over the super slab as it gives us a chance to experience life at a slower pace. It had been some time since we had put on the morning feed bag and we were way overdue for a fuel stop combined with a potty break and something good to eat.
We entered the neat little town of Wapanuka shortly after the dinner hour. As we topped off our tanks, we asked about a good place to eat. We were told we had already found it! Just walk around the corner of the station and go to Dollar Bill’s cafe and buffet line. Best food in Wapanucka, the fellow said. Yeah? Well, Wapanucka is a small place, but in the final analysis, how bad could a hamburger be messed up?
Boy, were we in for a surprise!!! The first thing we saw were tender and flakey cat head biscuits with red eye gravy and generous chunks of sausage. Following immediately on the serving line were real southern fried chicken, roast beef, meat loaf, catfish, real mashed potatoes, green beans, corn, a crisp salad, and a great selection of pies and cobblers that would make an aesthetic weep with joy. It was all very, very good! We could not have planned a better place to eat.
Another time, another trip, another place. We were on our way to Portland, Maine to catch the Blue Nose Ferry over to Nova Scotia and were taking the Lighthouse Tour along the rocky New England Coastline. This was highly scenic, but very slow going. Finally, we had to abandon the scenic route and hit the main road. Dinner time was late and gettin’ later. We came through a populated area and started looking for a place to eat; anyplace, even a McDonalds would do. Did I mention we were gettin’ desperate? I should have.
About this time we got stuck in a traffic jam due to an accident up ahead. As we crawled along, Judy noticed a place just ahead with a big parking lot. She radioed back to the rest of the gang that she was going to pull in here. Surely we could find some place to eat up here in this roadside shopping center. The parking lot she pulled in to was the exclusive designated parking lot for customers of ...ready now? The Original Road Kill Cafe!!
Laughing at our great good fortunate, we dismounted and went in for a dining experience that we still remember fondly. Maybe it was because we were real hungry or maybe it was really that good. Regardless, we still remember it.
This type of experience happened so often on our travels we came to expect it. But if we tried to wing it, or force the issue, it never turned out the same way. The food was good, expensive, but very good, and the waitresses were very sassy in a most enjoyable way.
But I’m getting away from the story about strange and exotic dishes we have found. The narrative continues...
Elsewhere in our travels we have run across varous and sundry delicious items...Howlers are jalapeño peppers, hollowed out and filled with cream cheese and a small bit of steak, turkey, chicken, or pork. To fix these at home, coat the peppers with a good onion ring batter, fill the insides, deep fry till they float, and eat hot!
For another tasty treat, take these same jalapeño peppers, fill ’em with cream cheese, put a Lil’ Smoky sausage in the center, wrap the whole mess in a strip of bacon, top it all off with a small chunk of pineapple and grill it outside for 30 to 40 minutes over low heat.
Caution! If you must go to the bathroom after handling these peppers, wash your hands very well before going. Failure to do so will cause serious heat to collect in your delicate nether regions and you will spend several long, unpleasant minutes tearing up the sod in your neighbor’s yards.
Continuing on with the recipes, may I now highly recommend pasties? These were discovered on yet another trip to Michigan. Every restaurant sports a sign advertising "pasties" so, of course, we had to try 'em. What are pasties, you ask? Pasties are nice little meat pies filled with onions, rutabagas, turnips, celery, chicken, beef, turkey, pork or whatever else you may like. Baked like pies, they stay hot a long time and are mighty tasty! These were brought here by the Finnish immigrants in the late 1800‘s. The Michigan miner's wives baked these dishes in the wee early morning hours, They were packed in the miner's lunch buckets and they stayed warm clear up until lunch time. A hearty meal...you won't need dessert after eatin' one of these things.
A final taste treat was discovered by Carol Sue one night at a dinner buffet at Michelle’s cafe in Osage City, Kansas. She observed the chocolate pudding had a rather tart taste. She was puzzled by the strange taste for a while but a second trip through the line revealed the cause. Right behind the pudding, was the source of the unusual taste; whole dill pickles soaking in brine! When a diner speared a pickle and transported it across the serving line to his plate, the brine dripped off the pickle and landed right in the middle of the chocolate pudding! Strange taste? Not to me, I. thought the taste was...interesting.
As you can see, motorcycle riders never go hungry if they can help it; but, WARNING! Serious gastric disturbances may result! And speaking of serious gastric disturbances...
We were headed for Denison, Texas to attend an all mule rodeo using the lightly traveled back roads of south central Oklahoma. We prefer this route over the super slab as it gives us a chance to experience life at a slower pace. It had been some time since we had put on the morning feed bag and we were way overdue for a fuel stop combined with a potty break and something good to eat.
We entered the neat little town of Wapanuka shortly after the dinner hour. As we topped off our tanks, we asked about a good place to eat. We were told we had already found it! Just walk around the corner of the station and go to Dollar Bill’s cafe and buffet line. Best food in Wapanucka, the fellow said. Yeah? Well, Wapanucka is a small place, but in the final analysis, how bad could a hamburger be messed up?
Boy, were we in for a surprise!!! The first thing we saw were tender and flakey cat head biscuits with red eye gravy and generous chunks of sausage. Following immediately on the serving line were real southern fried chicken, roast beef, meat loaf, catfish, real mashed potatoes, green beans, corn, a crisp salad, and a great selection of pies and cobblers that would make an aesthetic weep with joy. It was all very, very good! We could not have planned a better place to eat.
Another time, another trip, another place. We were on our way to Portland, Maine to catch the Blue Nose Ferry over to Nova Scotia and were taking the Lighthouse Tour along the rocky New England Coastline. This was highly scenic, but very slow going. Finally, we had to abandon the scenic route and hit the main road. Dinner time was late and gettin’ later. We came through a populated area and started looking for a place to eat; anyplace, even a McDonalds would do. Did I mention we were gettin’ desperate? I should have.
About this time we got stuck in a traffic jam due to an accident up ahead. As we crawled along, Judy noticed a place just ahead with a big parking lot. She radioed back to the rest of the gang that she was going to pull in here. Surely we could find some place to eat up here in this roadside shopping center. The parking lot she pulled in to was the exclusive designated parking lot for customers of ...ready now? The Original Road Kill Cafe!!
Laughing at our great good fortunate, we dismounted and went in for a dining experience that we still remember fondly. Maybe it was because we were real hungry or maybe it was really that good. Regardless, we still remember it.
This type of experience happened so often on our travels we came to expect it. But if we tried to wing it, or force the issue, it never turned out the same way. The food was good, expensive, but very good, and the waitresses were very sassy in a most enjoyable way.
But I’m getting away from the story about strange and exotic dishes we have found. The narrative continues...
Elsewhere in our travels we have run across varous and sundry delicious items...Howlers are jalapeño peppers, hollowed out and filled with cream cheese and a small bit of steak, turkey, chicken, or pork. To fix these at home, coat the peppers with a good onion ring batter, fill the insides, deep fry till they float, and eat hot!
For another tasty treat, take these same jalapeño peppers, fill ’em with cream cheese, put a Lil’ Smoky sausage in the center, wrap the whole mess in a strip of bacon, top it all off with a small chunk of pineapple and grill it outside for 30 to 40 minutes over low heat.
Caution! If you must go to the bathroom after handling these peppers, wash your hands very well before going. Failure to do so will cause serious heat to collect in your delicate nether regions and you will spend several long, unpleasant minutes tearing up the sod in your neighbor’s yards.
Continuing on with the recipes, may I now highly recommend pasties? These were discovered on yet another trip to Michigan. Every restaurant sports a sign advertising "pasties" so, of course, we had to try 'em. What are pasties, you ask? Pasties are nice little meat pies filled with onions, rutabagas, turnips, celery, chicken, beef, turkey, pork or whatever else you may like. Baked like pies, they stay hot a long time and are mighty tasty! These were brought here by the Finnish immigrants in the late 1800‘s. The Michigan miner's wives baked these dishes in the wee early morning hours, They were packed in the miner's lunch buckets and they stayed warm clear up until lunch time. A hearty meal...you won't need dessert after eatin' one of these things.
A final taste treat was discovered by Carol Sue one night at a dinner buffet at Michelle’s cafe in Osage City, Kansas. She observed the chocolate pudding had a rather tart taste. She was puzzled by the strange taste for a while but a second trip through the line revealed the cause. Right behind the pudding, was the source of the unusual taste; whole dill pickles soaking in brine! When a diner speared a pickle and transported it across the serving line to his plate, the brine dripped off the pickle and landed right in the middle of the chocolate pudding! Strange taste? Not to me, I. thought the taste was...interesting.
As you can see, motorcycle riders never go hungry if they can help it; but, WARNING! Serious gastric disturbances may result! And speaking of serious gastric disturbances...
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