Host and Be Hosted! -- Roam With Me.

I'm about to embark on my 16th trip abroad. Eleven of those trips are directly related to the fact that I have hosted seven different exchange students over the years. All but one of those were for full-year programs. Of those seven, I've visited four of them in their native countries, and I have plans to visit the other three next summer if all goes well.

My hosting began at an early age before I was even out of my twenties, so that first girl is only ten and a half years younger than me. She lives in Mexico, and over the years since her return to Mexico, she has become my very best friend, so she is the one I visit the most and the one I am about to go visit again.

The others who have graciously and enthusiastically welcomed me and my daughter into their homes live in Spain and Italy. As a high school Spanish teacher, I have taken four trips abroad with students -- two to Mexico and two to Spain. Three of these trips were prior to my hosting experiences, so while I was in Spain on those two occasions, I did not know anyone who lived there.

The contrast in the experience between going to a country where you don't know anyone and going to that same country when you do know people there is a night-and-day sort of difference. Nothing beats the authentic quality of a trip where a local is showing you around over the highly structured touristy quality of the organized student trip. I haven't led another student trip since I came to realize what I was missing out on.

Exchange students commit to the exchange programs to get the real deal. They want to immerse themselves in the culture of the country where they go to study. When those same kids and their families take you in and show you around, you get a mini-version of that immersive experience.

I teach, so that means I have limited financial funds. Not only do I not want to fly all the way to Mexico just to remain at an all-inclusive resort and never really get out and see the true Mexico, I also cannot afford that kind of trip. I can, though, every now and then scrounge up enough for plane tickets, meals and souvenirs.

Originally, I traveled to Mexico alone to see my friend, but for my last few trips, which have been to Mexico, Spain and Italy, my daughter has accompanied me. My son went on one to Mexico, but world traveling just isn't his thing. However, my daughter loves it, and I love having the company and someone to share those wonderful experiences with when we get back home.

That company is expanding for this next trip as my boyfriend is about to embark on his very first trip abroad! My two best friends -- female and male -- are about to meet, so I'm really excited about that.

When people learn I'm going to Mexico, they immediately ask me where I'm going. When I tell them that I'm heading to the Yucatan, I'm surprised at how many of them ask me where that is! First of all, it's one of two pretty well known peninsulas in Mexico, and secondly it's a state in its own right within the peninsula that bears its name. You can bet that if I said I was going to Cancun, most of those same people would know immediately where that is, so why don't they know that it's on the Yucatan Peninsula?!                       

I'm actually heading to Merida, which is the capital city of the state of Yucatan, and it's a really big city in its own right of two million people, yet when I say I'm going to Merida, I'm usually met with blank stares followed by the next question asking where that town is. Then I say it's in the Yucatan, and the circle starts all over.

Granted, there are a lot of people around here who, first, can't understand why I go to Mexico, and, second, really can't understand why I'm not going to an all-inclusive resort on the Caribbean. So, when their mindsets are blocked by an unwillingness to go to a country that has been sullied by both the war on the drug cartels and by the media coverage of said war, and when their only idea of a good time in Mexico involves white beaches, massages and every conceivable restaurant type all within the same compound, then they really aren't going to understand why I go to the part of Mexico that I go to.

In fairness, I'm a lucky person for a couple of reasons. First, I speak the language and I've studied the people and culture both in school and up close and personal, so I have a leg-up on the average non-Spanish speaking American. Secondly, I have personal connections in the country, and no travel agent or resort can beat that.

Since I've traveled to Mexico more often than any other country, I've had opportunities to see and do some pretty great things, but I've also relished my trips to Spain and Italy in the company of former exchange students and their families.

Let's see . . .

In Spain, we went to a really small and ancient town in the Gredos called Amavida where we stayed in a house that was over two hundred years old and owned by the family of the girl I once hosted in my home. The ceilings were low and wood-beamed, and the staircase to the small upper floor was windy and narrow. The streets of the town were crooked, and there wasn't a single store to be found in the whole town; instead, trucks came through every so often selling things like shoes, meat, ice, etc. I loved every slow, old-fashioned, clear-aired moment of it.
     

In Italy, we stayed in the long, narrow apartment of a friend of the family's in Napoli (Naples to we Americans) on the sixth floor of an older building with no air conditioning or screens on the windows. The four of us had to cram in two-by-two inside the smallest elevator I've ever encountered in my life! Anyone with even a smidge of claustrophobia wouldn't have dared to set foot in that elevator, but we made the trip numerous times. We also got to eat the best pizza in the world in the very city in which it was first invented, and while I still love pizza, Italian pizza has put all other pizza to shame for me because it just can't be beat.

                       

We also drove the Amalfi Coast, and we stopped to visit a family friend in Ravello, a beautiful city perched high over the Mediterranean with views to die for. Most tourists stop in Amalfi or Positano which are both gorgeous port-of-call cities, but they miss out on the gem that is Ravello by not venturing upwards
                                 .

In Mexico, my unique experiences are far too numerous to share here, but I'll try to hit a few highlights.

When my friend lived in Xalapa, she took me to an isolated fishing village that we had to reach via a rutty dirt road that seemed to stretch on forever and which rattled my teeth until I thought they'd crack. However, the drive was worth what awaited us at the end. A beach that looked like it was made of chocolate! She actually hated the brown sand since she said it looked like poop, but I loved it. Best of all, it was a Saturday, and we were the only two on the beach as far as the eyes could see. It was glorious.

                                             

When she lived in the actual town of Cancun, not the resort part, we took the ferry across to Cozumel after we drove to Playa del Carmen. There we rented a convertible red Volkswagen bug and drove completely around the island to the side that tourists don't really visit because it is rocky and windy. We also stopped at a lesser known beach and swam in the calmer water. I swam out quite a ways and discovered that there are things put out there at the bottom of the sea for people like me to "discover." There was even a small pyramid out pretty deep. I was swimming around it, and then my young son's pre-departure admonition started playing in my head: -- "Mom, don't get eaten by a shark." The next thing, I heard the damn theme music from "Jaws" playing in the background, so I beat a hasty retreat back to shore since I'm so blind I wouldn't have known if a shark was in the vicinity until he was too close for comfort!


Ironically, my favorite Mexico memory involves sharks! Whale sharks, that is. I'm returning on this coming trip to the island of Holbox to once again swim with them. This time, though, I am taking a prescription snorkel mask to get a better view of them than I did two years ago. Holbox is a treasure. Some tourists know about it and visit it, but they tend to be more like me because there aren't any all-inclusive resorts on an island whose streets are made of white sand and whose mode of transportation are golf carts used as taxis. The main thing that brings tourists there are the whale sharks themselves for a few months each year. During the rest of the year, the two small towns on the island are primarily just simple fishing towns.



As to Merida itself, the heart of the town is very old and retains a lot of its Spanish charm. However, the city has grown outwards from there into a very large metropolitan place. One of my favorite places, though, no longer exists. It was a really small, dumpy restaurant that served the most unbelievable and delicious sopa de lima (lime soup) I've ever had. I was really disappointed on my last trip there to learn it had closed down. My friend took me to a restaurant that also served lime soup, but it just wasn't the same.

No matter what we do, though, while I'm in Mexico, the primary reason I now go there is to see my best friend. I can't even begin to explain and describe all the crazy, fun, wonderful things we've done together and all the great places I've visited with her, but every one of them has improved my understanding of the Spanish language, the Mexican people and my outlook on life.

And to think that my trips abroad would probably have been limited to structured educational tours and travel agent arranged resort packages if I hadn't hosted exchange students and then taken the time to go visit them. After Mexico, we hope to get to Germany to visit two more of them and to the Czech Republic to see a third next summer.

If you've ever hosted an exchange student or know anyone from another country personally, but you haven't yet been to his or her country for a visit, pack your bags, book your ticket and get out there and see the place for yourself. It will change your life!

Read With Me! -- Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

I'm a reader; always have been. My fondest childhood memories involve me sitting on my front porch reading a book for hours. I write a bi-monthly column about books, I own thousands of books, I keep a reading journal of books I've read and of those I want to own/read, I collect the fiction Pulitzer Prize winning novels, I teach a reading class, I read every single day even if only for five minutes (otherwise I view my day as being wasted) -- in other words, reading is my passion.

 



I also love to ride my motorcycle, so what better fit for me than to read a book called "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" by Robert M. Pirsig. This isn't a new book, as many of you will surely know, but it is a book I just finally got around to reading.
                                                                        
 I say "finally" because I did pick it up years and years ago, but I wasn't reading ready for it at that point in my life. It's a deep book, and when I first tried to read it, I was still pretty young and not ready for the deep stuff. I am now.

The secondary title of the book is "An Inquiry into Values," and that's exactly what the book is about. It's not really about motorcycle maintenance in a strict sense even though there is a smattering of discussion related to that topic. It's a metaphorical journey into the self and our deep philosophical pondering. As Pirsig says, "The real cycle you're working on is a cycle called yourself." Mmmhmm, that's so true. We're always just fine-tuning ourselves to keep ourselves heading down the road as long as we possibly can.

I'm going to share the quotes from the book that most resonated with me and some thoughts about them.

**"You see things vacationing on a motorcycle in a way that is completely different from any other. In a car you're always in a compartment, and because you're used to it you don't realize that through the car window everything you see is just more TV. You're a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame." --- So true. Even with the car windows down, you don't feel the air the way you do on a bike, you don't sense the openness of the area through which you are traveling, you don't tune yourself into the road and your surroundings the way you do on a bike.

** "Paved county roads are the best, state highways are next. Freeways are the worst." --- I hate, hate, hate, hate interstates. Even in my car I avoid them whenever I possibly can, which is most of the time. What is the point of them? To get you there faster, that's all. But life isn't about getting places faster. Life is about enjoying the ride while you're going places. I love heading down a road I've never been down before. And for pete's sake, slow down, people. When you go a little slower, you see a whole lot more. "When you want to hurry something, that means you no longer care about it and want to get on to other things." 

** "The best ones always connect nowhere with nowhere and have an alternate that gets you there quicker." -- He's referring to the best back roads, and it's so true. I've found that often when we are heading "nowhere" we find "somewhere" pretty damn cool.

** When you ride, " . . . you spend your time being aware of things and meditating on them." You're out in the open with just your thoughts because "You can't really think hard about what you're doing and listen to the radio at the same time." -- Or the TV, or Pandora, or videos on YouTube, etc. This is something I'm always harping on my students about when it comes to doing their schoolwork -- shut the damn noise-making things off! Listen to your own thoughts, give your own brain an opportunity to work for you, and stop letting the garbage pour in every moment of every day. When you do this, you will be amazed at how the world opens up for you inside of yourself.  "Mental reflection is so much more interesting than TV it's a shame more people don't switch over to it."

** "Sometimes it's a little better to travel than to arrive." -- I love to travel. Absolutely love it. But often when I actually get to where I was going, I'm disappointed because the trip is over. The best riding days are the ones where we just set out to ride and let the roads take us where they will. This is actually a concept that kind of goes against my nature because I'm a planner, but the older I get, the more inclined I am to just go with the flow and see where it takes me. Usually, I'm much more content when I do.

** "Technology presumes there's just one right way to do things and there never is." -- Oh my, yes! I'm a Luddite, I admit it. Yes, of course I use technology. I'm writing this on a laptop after all, but I feel that our society, and especially our schools, have become slaves to technology, and in doing this, far too many people have become close-minded. If Google says it's true, then by God, it must be true and the one and only truth! That has become my reality as a teacher, and I'm tired of it. More and better and newer technology is not the answer -- using the very best computer ever created called our brains is the answer; however, knowing how to use them correctly is a dying art because of society's enslavement to Technology with that capital T.

** "Like those in the valley behind us, most people stand in sight of the spiritual mountains all their lives and never enter them, being content to listen to others who have been there and thus avoid the hardships." -- I'm not religious, but I am spiritual. I have my own way of seeing things and believing things that isn't based on any religious tome or doctrine. In fact, I've fought the spiritual side of myself because I thought to be spiritual meant that I needed to follow some religious path that I just couldn't do. Then, to find a little peace inside of my horrible marriage I started "talking" to the higher powers, and things started to change for me and inside of me. Eventually, I got divorced and kept "talking" and my life kept changing and improving every single day. I used to sit in that valley, but now I ride out in the open and cross whatever mountain comes my way.

** "To live only for some future goal is shallow. It's the sides of the mountain which sustain life, not the top." -- This is so true, yet how many of us don't really pay attention to the road on the way to the top because we're just so fixated on "getting there?" When you think about it metaphorically as a mountain, it brings a new view to the whole thing. The top of any tall mountain is pretty void of vegetation while the sides are rife with it, proving once again that it's so much more about the journey and less about the actual goal, and on the same subject as goals, here's another quote to ponder: "Any effort that has self-glorification as its final endpoint is bound to end in disaster." Something that most reality TV stars would be wise to consider.

** "Most horse people are antimotorcycle." -- This one just made me laugh and laugh and laugh. For me, it works both ways. My ex-husband is a total horse man, and I used to do a stand-up comedy bit about why motorcycles are better than horses. There are many, many, many reasons why motorcycles are better than horses, but my main one is this: when you are riding a motorcycle, you don't have to worry about any other motorcycle suddenly getting the urge to mount your own motorcycle and proceed to fornicate while you are on it!

** "That which turns its back on this inner calm and the Quality it reveals is bad maintenance. That which turns toward it is good." -- We must stay tuned into our inner selves and keep them running correctly, and the way to do that is to find peace. I do that through reading and riding and roaming. The more of those things I do, the happier I am. It's not about owning lots of things or being "better" than everyone else or building yourself up while stepping on others to do so. It's about being true to yourself by listening quietly to yourself and the universe.


** "We do need a return to individual integrity, self-reliance and old-fashioned gumption. We really do." -- Boy, oh, boy, oh, boy, don't we ever. And let's consider that this book was published in 1974. I was a little kid then. From what I remember, it seemed that the adults I knew then were full of these qualities. Nowadays, though, I find it harder and harder to find people who exhibit all three. I do, though, feel a slow turning in our society as if there are a lot of other people like me out there who are fed up with the greed, the arrogance, the entitlement, and the laziness that have permeated our country for quite some time now. It's only when people get fed up with something that things change, so I'm optimistic, guardedly so, but optimistic all the same.

Ride and Roam With Me -- Ozark Mountain Thunder Rally 2015

I attended my first motorcycle rally! It was a small one, which is just what I wanted for my first ever rally. Ever since I bought my Harley two years ago, the one question I repeatedly get asked is "Have you gone to Sturgis yet?" I have  no plans to go to a rally of that size any time soon, if ever. Crowds, especially rowdy ones dotted with breast-baring women are not my thing, thank you very much.

However, I had been wanting to go to a rally, and last year I had considered attending the Ozark Mountain Thunder Rally in Branson, Missouri, but I chickened out because I didn't want to go alone, and at this point last summer, I wasn't involved with another rider romantically nor had I been a Legion Rider long enough to have formed a connection with any of my group that was strong enough to include me inviting one of them to a rally in another state with me. So, I scrapped the idea last summer.

During the middle of winter, when I was sick and tired of Nebraska winters, I checked out the Ozark Mountain Thunder website to see what the dates of the rally were. While I was on the site, I noticed that there was a spot to sign up for a chance to win a 3-night stay at the Ramada where the rally was to be held, so I signed up for that chance.

Fast forward to May. I now had a full calendar of Legion Rider activities, including things on the weekend of the rally, so I basically put it out of my mind. Then I got an e-mail from the rally coordinator saying I had won the 3-night stay! So, my guy and I decided that we couldn't pass up the opportunity to go to the rally, and we opted to forego the Legion Rider things that weekend (June 18-20).

Branson is a pretty long haul from my house, and while I do like long rides, I'm not yet up to a 600 mile ride, and we wanted to accomplish it in one day, so we committed the true biker sin of trailering our bikes down there. Boy, were we glad we did, as events will show!

For the entire trip down from Northeast Nebraska to the Kansas border, we were chased by a gigantic storm that stretched from Hays, Kansas to Sioux City, Iowa. It was crazy! We managed to stay one step ahead of it most of the way. Then we drove in clear weather until we were just north of Springfield, Missouri. Holy Hell, did it pour on us! Torrential rain doesn't even come close to explaining what we drove through. Finally, I had to pull over because I couldn't see anything. It let up a bit, and we switched drivers for the final short leg of the trip. Thank God we went through that stretch on Thursday night because it was flooding on Friday!

When we finally arrived in Branson, we found the Ramada Inn and went to check in. Hmmm, a small snag. Despite my calling two days prior to going to double-check the reservation (because I wasn't about to drive that far only to find out that the reservation hadn't been made for me!), they had made the reservation for the following night and only for one night!!!! What the hell? The lone guy behind the counter checking people in did finally manage to get us into a room, though.

About the room -- on the pro side of it, it was in a good location, on the end near the stairs and overlooking the arena where all the activities were to take place; on the con side, the shower barely worked because the plug in the tub faucet was worn out, so hardly any water came out of the shower head, and the bathroom sink faucet leaked like crazy. Also, the dead bolt in the door didn't line up with the hole to receive it in the door frame, so we couldn't adequately lock the door that first night. Believe me, the desk got a visit from us the next morning, and they did go fix all of those things, to their credit, but you just know that those problems were there long before we took the time to report them. So, anyone staying in 479 Ramada Inn in Branson anytime soon, you're welcome!!!

The rain continued for part of Friday morning, so we were pretty disappointed, but we made the most of it by getting our rally patches sewn on (along with two others for my newer vest) and going to a small burger joint that is popular with the locals and that the coordinator, Dan Luttrell, told us about. It's called Billy Bob's Dairy Land, and the food (especially the peanut butter shake) is excellent.

                         

Finally, the skies cleared up enough to unload the bikes. We'd been told that the roads around Eureka Springs, Arkansas, are wonderful for riding, so I plotted a course down Highway 65 to 86 West, and we headed out. Once onto 86, we found the curvy roads bikers love. The turns are all really well marked with the speeds you would be wise to follow because you can't see what's coming around the bend most of the time due to the lush vegetation and tall trees. The only real road hazard we encountered that day, though, was turtles! On three separate occasions I had to point out a turtle in the road for my guy to avoid since he always rides behind me to the left.

We reached Eureka Springs and discovered that it is a beautiful, unique, artsy sort of town that gets invaded by bikers every weekend in the summer! If only we'd been able to get an earlier start, we could have enjoyed the town more, but it was already late afternoon, so we needed to make the return trip to Branson. We did stop at the new Harley store there for a peek and for a photo for me as I attempt the ABCs of Touring challenge put on by Harley-Davidson every year (more on that later, but you'll see in the following photos that I'm holding the official touring booklet).

      

We got back to Branson (122 mile round trip) and stopped at Casa Fuentes, a great little Mexican restaurant, where we ate outdoors on the back patio and enjoyed ourselves despite the unruly children running amok while their inept parents ignored them (until one kid threw a rock at a window -- then suddenly a man jumped into action and yelled like an idiot at the kid he should have been controlling sooner). The food was great, though, and we would gladly return to that restaurant for more. They even had Sol beer, which is the best Mexican beer in my opinion! Then we returned to the rally site and watched some of the rock band, Classic Reunion, for a bit before turning in for the night.


The next day, Saturday, June 20th, was the poker run day, and that's when things went awry in a big way for Kim, my guy. His bike had been acting up a bit lately, so we should have known something would go wrong, but fortunately it didn't decide to take a shit on us the day before when we were out exploring all alone!

We made it to the first stop after following a group of people from the area who knew where they were going. At that stop, there was a guy who had caught a very long black rat snake that some campers had seen and were scared of -- I don't blame them, but the snake seemed pretty harmless despite its size!                              

We continued down 65 toward Harrison, Arkansas, still following our little group. It was a glorious riding day -- no rain and very warm! We arrived in Harrison and got separated from our leaders at a stoplight. No worries, though, because one of the few behind us knew the route and he came forward to tell us so. Kim waved him ahead of us, and we proceeded to the next stoplight which was also red. As soon as it turned green, I took off, but half a block down I realized my riding buddy was no longer just behind me to the left -- he was back at the light in the middle of the road! I pulled over, and circled the block when the final couple with us came up and told me his battery was dead!

By the time I reached him, a good Samaritan from Harrison, a young man named Lawson, had already helped him push his bike safely off the busy road and onto the sidewalk. As fate would have it,this young man used to work for a battery and tire store about five blocks away, so he called them and they set Kim up with a new battery. Then the young man took Kim to the store, and I followed on my bike. After only a few minutes, a worker at the store came out with the new battery and took Kim back to his bike. Again, I followed. He installed the battery for Kim, and we had to wait 20 minutes for it to charge before we continued on the poker run. By this time, of course, we were all alone with our route map and our bikes. (It was during this little part of our adventure that we learned that people in the south say "Wathcher going to do is . . . " every time they give directions.)


His bike started right up, so we assumed that all was right with the world for us once again . . . but you should never assume, now should you!

The next stop was at Jasper at the Ozark Cafe. We drew our cards, and then we went in for some lunch. Outside, though, we had caught up to the nice couple we'd met at the beginning of the ride in Branson -- a couple named Jeff and Laura from somewhere in Arkansas (I had planned to get to know them better along the way, but events had different plans for me.). They were relieved to see us because they didn't know what had become of us. They had just finished lunch and were heading out while we still needed to eat, so that was the last we saw of them.

Jasper is a really small town, but it's often in the smallest of towns that one finds some of the neatest cafes. The Ozark Cafe is really unique with exposed beams and a giant mirror behind the counter where we sat to eat. The place was full of bikers, and only a fraction of them were on the poker run with us.

As we were preparing to leave the cafe, I noticed a woman staring at me as I put on my helmet, so I looked at her directly. Then she said to me, "It's nice to see a female rider." The comment kind of struck me as odd at first, but then as I rode, I started noticing that I was one of only a very few ladies actually riding, in the sense of driving, a bike. Most of the ladies down there are the passengers. Not for me, thanks. And I'm glad that there are quite a few other ladies just like me up where I live who ride with the Legion Riders like I do.

The next stop was a tiny speck in the road called Ponca, Arkansas. I took a photo of the population sign for a couple of reasons: first, it's my favorite number and birthday and secondly, there is a Ponca in Nebraska and my son coaches there! 

Until we reached Ponca, I thought we were the only Nebraskans on the ride, but as soon as we parked, a couple guys started talking about the banner on Kim's bike that displays the town where his Legion Riders' post is. I realized they were fellow Nebraskans, so we chatted a bit. They were from Pawnee City, the very town I planned to visit on our return trip to get a Nebraska Passport stamp form the winery there (but more about that in a later post, too). What a small world!

We left Ponca for the return to Branson in a small group that contained a couple of people we had left Branson with, but we pulled out of the group when I came upon a spot with a breathtaking panoramic view that I just couldn't pass up. Kim held my bike, so I could just remain on it and not coast downhill while I took the photos. He's a sweetie!

From there, we were alone again for a bit. We made it back to Harrison, momentarily got off track, and then we passed the Pawnee City guys who were filling up at a gas station. The final stop, though, was a gas station south of Branson along 65. We pulled in and drew our cards. Then just as the Pawnee City guys came along, Kim discovered that his battery was completely dead again! Fate intervened again, thankfully, and two of those guys pushed him across the parking lot, so he could pop the clutch and get it going again. Took a couple tries, but they got him going. We knew we needed to get his bike back to the trailer immediately as something more than the battery was seriously wrong with his bike, so we took off for Branson, which was just a few miles down the road.

Just as we pulled off 65 and went up the ramp to the first stoplight, his bike died again. This time we were all alone, so he pushed it across the busy street while I followed on my bike, and he left it at a Casey's. Then we took my bike to the Ramada to retrieve the trailer and loaded his bike up for good..

To say we had luck that day would be an understatement. If his bike had died on any of those winding, curvy, steep roads when we were all alone, we would have had more problems than we'd known what to do with. Both of the serious times there were good people there who jumped right in to help him, and for that we are both very grateful.

When the bikes were all loaded, we cleaned up and went to the Rowdy Beaver restaurant right by the Ramada for supper. I was a little leery of the name of the place, but it was really nice and had great food and entertainment.
                

We watched part of Jasmine Cain's performance at the finale of the rally, and then we called it a night. The following day dawned bright and shiny, and we headed for home. Once again, storms awaited us down the road a ways, so we ended up taking quite the meandering course home to avoid the hail that stretched for miles from east to west.

Here is one photo of some of the flooding north of Branson around Springfield. Trees for miles are underwater all around the lakes and rivers. Fortunately, Mother Nature did give us enough of a reprieve to enjoy most of our first ever rally!

Ride with me -- Flag Day/Pilger 2015

                               

One year ago today, two horrible tornadoes tore through the center of Pilger, Nebraska, effectively devastating the town. The people of the community, the state and even the nation, though, came together, and they kept the town from fading into history. The town is reviving itself bit by bit, and I'm happy to say that I got to do one small part for them when I rode in the escort of the American Legion National Commander, Mike Helm, when he went to Pilger on Sunday, June 14th, to dedicate the new city flag pole. They purposely chose Flag Day to do this honor since it was also so close to the one year anniversary of the tragedy.

Mike Helm is himself originally a small town Nebraska boy from Lebanon, Nebraska, so he can well understand the importance of growing up in a community like Pilger and the need to keep places like it going despite the whims of crazy Mother Nature.

 The first thing my particular group of Legion Riders, the Sandhills chapter of Post 172, did was to meet up with the local Legion commander of Pilger that morning and present him with a check for 1,000 dollars to use as he saw fit for their Legion or community. Here are photos of my group doing that. 

                              

In the above group photo, I'm the dorky one on the far left! About one-third of the members of my group attended this presentation, and it was our pleasure to help the Pilger American Legion Post.

After this presentation, we rode to Beemer to stand a flag line for the arrival of Mike Helm. We lined one side of main street and held our flags until his personal escort arrived with him following. He personally thanked each of us and gave us each a hat pin.

Then we listened to him and some other local dignitaries speak inside the Legion hall, had a light lunch, and got on our bikes to escort him into Pilger for the official flag pole dedication.

We made a pretty impressive scene traveling down highway 275 toward Pilger as our line of bikes stretched on seemingly forever. Once in Pilger, I counted all the bikes, and there were 93! Granted, not all of those were involved in the escort, but many of them were, so you can imagine what upwards of 70 bikes trailing down the highway must look like to those we met on the way.

In Pilger, Lieutenant Governor Mike Foley was also there, and he spoke first followed by three state senators, local American Legion representatives and then the National Commander himself. They all spoke to the resilience of the people of Pilger and to Pilger's new slogan of being "the town too tough to die." That's an apt slogan if I've ever heard one.

Here are photos of the Lieutenant Gov. and the National Commander speaking:

  

The day was very warm, so the local Boy Scouts were out in force handing out cold bottles of water. I must have looked really hot because I bet every boy stopped by me and asked if I needed some water. I did accept two of the bottles as the time wore on because I was sweating something fierce, so I was really grateful to them for being there. I wasn't sitting under the shade of the tent as my photos might appear. I was standing just to the side of it. 

After they all spoke, they raised the flag as pictured in my photos at the top. The base of the pole carries the marker that was provided by members of the American Legion family, of which the Legion Riders are a part. 

Here are some photos of the many bikes that roared into town earlier:

                          

  

                                                        Mine is the one on the far left. 

   





































                                                             
























                                                     

After the dedication, many riders left, but a few of us stayed to escort Mr. Helm into Norfolk where he was going to stay the night and speak at other events. When we arrived at the outskirts of Norfolk, we were met with a police escort. That was really cool! It was the first one I've ever been involved in personally. I was toward the front, so I had a great view of the synchronization of the police officers as each car pulled out and held up the traffic for us to simply continue riding straight through town to the other side without having to stop once.

After we led the National Commander to his hotel, he came around and thanked each of us personally again. I thought that was a very nice gesture on his part.

I'm glad I'm a member of the American Legion Riders where I can have the opportunity to do a small part for the betterment of the country. I wish Pilger nothing but the best as the town continues to rebuild.

June 9th -- Ride With Me!

This is a special day for many reasons.

First, it is my very best friend's birthday, so happy day to her down in Mexico! I can't be there to celebrate just yet, but I'll be visiting her soon (and I'll share our roaming adventures when I do!).

Secondly, it is my dear college friend's wedding anniversary -- 25 great years together -- so congratulations to them on their silver anniversary, and I look forward to congratulating them again on their golden one!

Finally, and most importantly as far as this blog is concerned, today marks two years of owning my bike! So, let me tell you a little about it. First, here is a photo of it taken today.



Isn't it a beauty?! It's a Dyna Super Glide Limited Edition 110th Anniversary model. There were 1,450 of them made in 2013, and I have number 0336 as you can sort of see in the following photo.

                                      

In the two years I've owned it, I've only put on a little over 4,000 miles, which I'm sure is laughable to serious riders out there, but it's a number I'm proud of because all those miles represent how far I've come these past couple of years, not only as a rider but also as a person.

When I was sixteen, I got my first bike. It was just a small Yamaha 250 street bike, but it was the perfect size for a young girl in a medium-sized town. I moved up to a 550 a few years later, but I ended up selling that one after I married and settled down. At the time, the plan was to get another better bike when I had the money.

Well, because of the type of person to whom I was married, I never had the money. All I ever had was debt and more debt. Years went by as I attempted to make the best of a bad situation, but I never lost my desire to own another bike -- there just were too many complications standing in my way, and I'm not going to get into those here.

Finally, I got tired enough of the hell in which I was living, and I filed for a divorce. That took about a year and added a heck of a lot more debt to my already overflowing pile, so I really didn't see how I could wisely add the purchase of a bike to my problems. But then that voice in me started whispering to me "if you don't do it now, you'll never do it; you're not getting any younger; stop making excuses; you know you want one; do something for yourself, for pete's sake." Pretty soon that voice wasn't whispering anymore -- she was downright yelling at me and nagging up a storm. So, to shut her up, I bought a bike.

It wasn't quite on that much of a whim, though. I did first just go looking, and this bike spoke to me from the moment I laid eyes on it. It was pricey, though, and I knew I had all that divorce debt to worry about, so I left the store empty-handed. I spent a few months crunching numbers and calculating all sorts of things until, finally, I realized that I could do it, but it would be a stretch, so I'd better make damn sure I wanted a bike. The thing was, though, I didn't just want any old bike; I wanted this bike, and I wanted it badly. Love at first sight? Yes, I do believe it was.

Again, months had passed by then. I had first seen the bike in April. Now it was June. What were the odds it would still be there? Well, not only was it still there, it was the bike the store had positioned front and center when you first walked in the door, so if that wasn't fate, then I don't know what is. With its prominent store placement a lot of people were looking at it. I put an end to that bullshit right away when I found the first sales associate available and said, "I want that bike."

I should mention that this was at the Frontier Harley-Davidson store in Lincoln, Nebraska. I should also mention that I did something that would be considered stupid by most people but that worked out fine for me -- I hadn't ridden a bike since I was about 22, and here I was at double that age buying a bike that was much bigger than the one I'd sold all those years ago, and I was scared to make a fool of myself there at the store, so I didn't even attempt to ride it until I got it home!

They installed the bags for me, so when I left the store, the bike remained behind for a bit. They later delivered it to my house. That first moment I stood there contemplating the bike all alone in my driveway was a moment I'll never forget. The smart smart-ass in me started mocking me with things like "now what, you idiot?; do you even remember how to ride one of these?; you're going to drop it, and I'm going to laugh! . . ."

I needed to shut that bitch up, so I took a few deep breaths and got on. I'll gladly admit that my first ride was very short and very shaky, but, and it's an important BUT, I did it. It all came back to me. I did struggle with the weight of the bike at first, and I have dropped it twice -- so far. I've been told by riders much more experienced than I can ever hope to become that dropping a bike is pretty damn common, so even though I'm not happy that I've scuffed it a bit, I'm o.k. with the fact that I've dropped it.

That first summer, I only took it out a few times because I was, in fact, scared to go far by myself, and I barely took it out on the highway. However, later that winter I joined the American Legion Riders, and my riding life, along with my actual life, changed forever.

Through that group, I've gained friends who have ridden with me and made me feel protected as I gained experience and knowledge on my bike. My confidence has grown immensely, and now, even though I still don't prefer to ride alone, I'm able to take off down the highway by myself.

That's what I did today, in fact. I rode alone for about 50 miles to a neighboring town to stand a flag line for a military funeral. I joined other Legion Riders when I got there, of course, but most of them had traveled alone from their homes and towns to be there, too. It was a scorcher of a day, hitting well over 90 degrees by the time I returned home and literally peeled off my sweaty clothes. But, when you're riding on the bike, you don't really notice the heat at all.

My bike and my membership in the Riders also led me to my love. He's a fellow Legion Rider from a different chapter, and we met at a ride almost a year ago now. Many of those 4,000+ miles are ones I've ridden with him. When we ride, he lets me lead and ride on the outside of the lane as I prefer to do while he rides on the inside and keeps a watchful eye on me to make sure I'm o.k. when I hit a nasty bump, or when it's raining, or when a bird dive-bombs me as they strangely like to do.

When I bought the bike, so many people tried to make me feel bad for doing it. They all assumed it was a mid-life crisis purchase or a post-divorce whim I'd soon regret, and most of them thought it was more bike than I could handle alone. Two years later, they aren't singing those tunes now. In fact, the ones who aren't telling me I'll kill myself are now expressing their admiration, mostly because I'm a Legion Rider, and that alone brings respect with it. However, their admiration is also for the fact that I did it -- I bought a bike, a Harley-Davidson even; amid all those telling me not to do it, I did it.

And, who, in reality, doesn't love a rebel?

Roam and Ride with Me -- Black Hills, SD, May 2015

As you can see in the photo, my 2013 HD Super Glide is snugly ensconced in a trailer we rented to haul our bikes to the Black Hills. Primarily, this was because we knew that it was likely to rain the whole time we were up there, so we weren't sure if we'd even get any riding  in. Secondarily, we needed my Trailblazer's seating capacity for the seven of us who were going on this trip when we got to the Hills, so that way we could all travel places together instead of taking multiple vehicles. 

I believe it had been eight years since my last trip up there, and it was my exchange student's first (and most likely only) visit there. Additionally, my boyfriend, my daughter, my niece, and my parents all came along. We camped at Rafter J Bar near Hill City in my parents' camper and in a cozy cabin for my man and me. If you've never been to that campsite, I highly recommend it. This was my third stay there, but the first in a cabin. We chose one with extra amenities of bathroom and kitchenette. We never needed the kitchenette, but the indoor bathroom was a great plus during the very chilly nights we were there.

The cabin could sleep six as there were two bunk beds, and the table folded down into a second double bed. There was a covered porch along with a cement patio with a picnic table, a raised grill and a fire pit. Since we spent our time exploring or relaxing at my parents' campsite, we didn't make use of those things, but the covered area was a good place to park the bikes!

                                                         My first stop was the Hill City Harley-Davidson store, naturally. I got a lovely black t-shirt with the historic train that runs from Hill City to Keystone in bright colors on the back. Then we drove up to Mount Rushmore for the nightly lighting ceremony. 

     

                         

I'm pretty sure that there was a conspiracy in play that night. The easy trail that takes you to the walkway under the faces was under construction! What? So, to get there we had to take the more -- much more -- arduous trail of stairs and more stairs! Fortunately, it was a cool night, but we were still sweating and huffing and puffing by the time we got to the top. Naturally, the kids made it look easy, but they're just a bunch of show-offs. We did make it, though. We got back with time to look around the museum a bit before the lighting ceremony began. In the photo, the benches are quite empty, but by the time it started, they were almost full. 

The next morning, we did venture out on the bikes for a short ride before the rain turned us back. We made it just north of Lake Pactola, but we stopped at the lake for a quick photo.

Here's a better one of the lake without us blocking the pretty view.

We all piled in my vehicle and took to a roundabout way to get to Sylvan Lake since the short route from the campsite was also under construction! See? Conspiracy in play in the Black Hills. Once we arrived, we had a nice reprieve from the rain -- at least temporarily, as you'll see in a bit. Sylvan Lake is by far one of the prettiest lakes in the country. Here is photographic proof. The small boat you see is a paddle boat with my kids on it enjoying a half hour tour of the lake.

Right after this photo was taken it suddenly started to hail! We attempted to take cover under that overhanging rock, but we still got pelted quite a bit.

We continued onward after the hail abated. We had to dodge a lot of mud and water flowing where it normally doesn't flow. The streams in the Hills were all bursting from the excess of rain this spring, and there were quite a few flooded areas in the low-lying regions. So, to avoid too many mud and water problems, we took the short route around the lake and behind the giant rocks that flank it. 

We even managed to climb up on some of the rocks, but if any of you have seen "National Treasure 2," don't believe the scene where the actors go behind Mount Rushmore and appear suddenly at a lake. That lake is Sylvan Lake, and it's definitely not right behind the Presidents, nor does it have some secret cave lurking amidst the rocks containing treasure. (Believe me, I looked. -- kidding)

The true treasure is the beauty of the place, and you should climb up on the rocks to simply soak it all in. Or to be a giant goofball as my boyfriend is.

                                  

Needles Highway contains twists and turns, narrow tunnels and great places to stop and look out over the Black Hills.

                              

We also drove on Iron Mountain Road where we saw a few wildlife. By the time we returned to camp, the kids were able to go for a swim in the nice pool at Rafter J Bar because it's a heated one, so even though the air was chilly, the sun was finally out, and they had some fun. I went for a walk with my honey, and we saw some deer who also saw us and watched us even more than we watched them.

The next day was my exchange student's 18th birthday. We had intended to take him to Deadwood to go to Gulches of Fun where he and the other kids could drive go-carts and play miniature golf, but the weather had other ideas for us. We did, indeed, go to Deadwood, but the rain became almost torrential, so after watching the reenactment of Wild Bill's assassination in the No. 10 Saloon, I ventured into the Harley store for a quick peek, and then we stopped at the Celebrity Hotel to see some of the memorabilia. Naturally, I was most impressed with this particular piece!

 

Then we still needed to find some enjoyable indoor entertainment, so we checked out the Broken Boot mine in Deadwood and the Mining Museum in Lead. While they weren't our original picks for the day, they both proved to be informative and entertaining, and my exchange student liked them both, so that was what really mattered. Here my daughter points out the valuable sign in Broken Boot mine.

On our final full day in the Hills, it was still raining! A lot! So, we headed for Hot Springs to see two interesting places. The first was the Mammoth Site. I wanted to take my daughter there because she plans to be a paleontologist, so I knew she would really enjoy that place. I wasn't wrong. In fact, we all greatly enjoyed it. I could really see her working there or somewhere like it someday. She was most fascinated by the laboratory, though, while the rest of us oohed and aahed over the giant bones in the ancient water hole where a lot of mammoths fell into it but couldn't get out.

The second place in Hot Springs was Evan's Plunge, a giant pool fed by an underground spring. It's been a local swimming hole for over one hundred years. I don't have any photos because I went there to swim. I've loved that pool since I was a kid, so the kid in me couldn't resist another opportunity to swim there. The floor of the pool is covered with rocks, so that takes a little getting used to. There are two indoor slides, and there is also an outdoor smaller pool with a giant tube slide leading to it. I've gone down that slide in the past, and it is really fast, but I avoided it this year due to the outside cold temperature. The true kids ventured down it a few times, though. My boyfriend and I both did take a turn down the curvy indoor one, and he attempted the monkey rings a few times along with my niece and my exchange student. None of them made it across the pool despite getting better and further with each attempt, but they had excessively sore arms the next day to prove they had at least tried.

On our final trip back to camp, we took another scenic route, and this time we were awarded with sightings of elk and bison.

 

By the time we returned to camp, the sun was out -- go figure -- and we had just enough daylight for one last ride on the bikes. We took them over to Keystone and past the Presidents one last time. The air was quite cool, but it was crisp and delicious. We wore full leathers and our helmets, despite South Dakota being a state where you don't have to wear one. Traffic was light, so we made excellent time to Keystone and back via Hill City. We even could have done it all again, but by then the temperature was well into the low 40's, so we thought better of it and went to the camper for a late supper and some time with the family.

                       The next morning we bid farewell to our campsite and headed for home.

                             

On the way back, we had one final stop at Carhenge, a place I wanted to show my exchange student before he left us. Despite being a lifelong Nebraskan, my boyfriend had never seen it either. Hmmm. It sits near Alliance on Highway 87 just a few miles outside of town. Since it is way on the other side of the state from us, I'll give him a pass on this. A lot of people think that there isn't anything to see in Nebraska, but it does hold many treasures. While Carhenge may not be a treasure, it is a unique thing, and it's worth a stop if you're ever in the western part of our state.

If you look closely, you'll see my beast of a Trailblazer and the yellow trailer holding our bikes.

This summer marks the 75th bike rally in Sturgis, SD, so there were a lot of preparations for that taking place in the Hills. I don't plan to attend that myself this year. Maybe next year. This year, at that time, I will be in Mexico, so I'll invite you to come roam with me down there when the time comes, but before that, I will be attending a rally in Branson, MO, called the Ozark Mountain Thunder Motorcycle Rally. If you're planning to attend as well, let me know in the comment box. I'd love to meet up with any of my readers while I'm there. I invite you to come Ride with Me down there! 

Tammy