Live Life Well
The story of two married DC professionals, one a motorcycle lobbyist the other a US Senate staffer who quit their jobs, sold everything and hit the road traveling the National Park System and all points in between for all of 2016
I love a good moonrise. The dragoon mountains are a surreal back drop for our return to camping. We will be circling the SW USA for the next few weeks while things heat up up north. More posts on making a TV commercial and re doing the camper to a more exacting standard coming soon. Frank Lloyd right almost left AZ when they put up power lines that obstructed his view. I have to agree with FLW. but that moon though.
My new buddy Dallas. He is a metal worker, more specifically a horse shoer, from Montana. We met at the RV park we have our camper while we are repairing and replacing. Him and his wife spend the appropriate amount of time on their front porch, which looks directly at our camper. So essentially all we are to them are those idiots who know nothing about remodeling and repairing campers and are blocking our million dollar view!!!! I was wrong. They are getting a kick out of watching us go up and down ladders and in and out of campers all day long for the past month. About a week ago, we were pulling out for the day in the truck, and he approached us. I had the windows down. “You two ain’t afraid of hard work”, he says to me through the driver’s side window. We laugh, and he says “no, really. I seen the work you all are doing. It’s tough, and you are dedicated to doing it right.” I realized that I had been hearing metal grinding from his place for the past few days. I mention that I need to cut some sheet metal and does he have some tools I can use. He does. So, I pick his brian for a few minutes. He is a horseshoer. I ask him if he shoes horses at rodeos. He gives me the best -where the fuck do you think i shoe horses, your sister’s house look- “Of Course i do.” I tell him my only rodeo story, the time I rode a bull.
I spent a summer in college living in Bryce Canyon National Park working for the park service. We were hell bent on saving the prairie dog from extinction. Mainly going extinct because it became a popular Mormon pizza topping. Those freaks! While in southwestern Utah at the park I became fast friends with a Navajo kid, (same age as me) named Augustine. I told Auggie that I was American Indian too and he laughed. I told him about my tribe the Lumbee, from North Carolina. I don't think he believed a word I said. It is true though, I am a direct relative of Henry Barry Lowry, not a nice guy, but a hero to me nonetheless.
Well, Auggie rode bulls at the local rodeo and got paid to do it. When I found that out, I had to learn to ride a bull. That was it. Auggie and I drove my shitty blue jeep (but free to me and thus much loved) to his reservation where he assured me that he could teach me to ride. The only things you need to ride a bull at this rodeo were: your own glove, your own rope, a signed consent form, and loads of stupidity or bravery, you decide.
On the res, I learned how to ride a bull. His family had rigged up what was basically the A frame of a swing set built of pipe and concreted into the ground. A truck tire was cut in half and strung through each corner so it resembled a sort of saddle. Each corner had a rope that went up and over the top of the frame. Auggie instructed me how to get on the tire bull, and then four of his older brothers each took a rope and yanked them like they wanted to see me get tossed and split my head open on the ground, for fun.
I held on. The brothers were impressed. Did it a few more times. Success. Then me and Auggie and some his friends ate peyote and disappeared into the desert for a few days, but that’s another story.
We got back to Bryce and went to the rodeo. Friday night. I was in line to ride. Auggie loaned me his glove and rope. There are two ways to tie a rope to a bull and then to your glove. One is for sissies, the other is for men. A sissy ties the rope in a fashion that allows the rider to release a small amount of grip, and the entire knot holding him to the bull becomes undone freeing the rider from the bull, allowing for a safer release from the bull. The other, a fixed knot, does not allow for such an auto-release. This more manly knot must be undone with fingers or tools, thus resulting in greater risk of twisting off one’s hand entirely while getting dragged around by a 2000 pound bull. I am a sissy, and still have both hands.
I climb the fence to get on the beast. It was slobbering and snotting hot mucus everywhere. The reason those bulls buck is because some guy puts the bull’s nuts in a belt and crank it tight. I would kick the shit out of someone if they belted my balls, so I get the kicking routine. Then those guys smear Icy-Hot in one of the bull’s ears to make them spin while they try to kick off the nut belt.
Then the rodeo guy looks at me and says, “Whatcha waiting for? Get on!” so I got on. Scariest thing I have ever done. Dropped onto the animal. Just before he opened the gate, and after I had sat on the beast, before he let me out, I said “what do I do when I get bucked off?” His simple answer, “Well, I would run in the opposite direction of the bull.” They sprung the fence and that big slobbering hot ungulate went for it. He jumped and spun three or was it thirty feet in the air. I was fear laughing, trying not to shit my pants, and holding on for dear life.
I got tossed at 5.4 seconds. Respectable for a first timer and what was likely an old bull. But it scared the shit out of me. I was a bit shaky and itchy for a few days after. I saw my life flash before my eyes out there. Just sitting on the bull in the pen was more than enough for me. But I had to push it and see what happens. Real fear, that’s what happens. And since that time, my bull riding feelings of extreme fear have always made me feel like a wimp. How can Auggie and his brothers do this repeatedly? What’s wrong with me? Until the other day. Because of my new buddy Dallas.
He rode bucking broncos. Which to me, the bucking broncos always seemed way scarier and troublesome than the lower stance bulls. Case in point, at the rodeo I went to, they would only let the pros ride the broncos, any idiot with a glove and rope could ride a bull.
I asked Dallas if he ever rode a bull. “Yes, once. Scariest thing I ever did.” I yanked my head around and asked him, a life long ranch guy, probably been around livestock since birth, why? He said “Well, a horse will try and buck you off, just like a bull. But the horse don't want to eat you when he does.”
Makes sense.
Practical advice for the day. Stay away from Bulls if you can. and eat something green.
Forget to mention that Dallas Davidson is 80 years young and still shoes horses and brands bulls for a living. I might have a new hero.
Earnest Hemingway once said that "Mountaineering, Motorsports, and Bull Fighting were the only real sports, everything else is just games". KInda have to agree but seing what the kids are doing with skateboarding may change that for me.
It's good to have friends. Friends make life better and the world a better place, according to the shy owl collective, at least. Well, I have a dear friend who works for Indy Car, and she hooked us up for the Indy Car test weekend in Phoenix. Not open to the general public, it's a shake out weekend for the drivers, teams, and Indy Car, before the race season begins in a few weeks. In addition to pit crews and drivers, there were about 50 hangers on like me. My friend gave me a little Sunoco pit cone sign and a sharpie to get autographs from the drivers. I'm not really an autograph guy, but she assured me it was harmless and encouraged. So I got a couple.
I am a life long fan of fast. Better bearings for the skateboard to go faster, yes please. Better chain rings to make the BMX bike go faster, 12 speed bikes to 28 speed bikes, led to motors, motorcycles, and anything that goes. Fast. There are few things more fun than watching a race from the infield. I've done it for NASCAR, Formula 1, Grand Prix, and Indy, and it doesn't get more live than being on eye level with the driver. The sound, vibration, and percussion from the speed are soothing to me and make me a happy man.
After watching Indy cars spin the track for about an hour at 190 MPH, from the pit wall, a mere few feet from the track. I had to use the men's room. We walked away from the track and after rounding the press building we entered a sort of courtyard. An older gentlemen was walking in our direction on the same path. As he got closer, he looked extremely familiar, a face I have seen a thousand times. Who is this guy? As he gets closer I realize exactly who he is. He is The Legend, The Master of Racing, and one of my personal idols and heroes. Mario Andretti. Alone. In the flesh. I extend my hand and let him know how big of a fan I was. In that moment approximately one million questions and thoughts raced through my tiny brain. And I could articulate none. I ham-fisted my little autograph sign at him with a sharpie and dumbly mumbled for an autograph and a picture. I had Mario Andretti's undivided attention for one minute and I wasted it on an autograph and a photo. Oh well, at least I have evidence of my mistake. Oh the questions I should have asked. Fave car ever? Daily driver? Fave Indy driver right now? Best racing motor? Fave food? Fave movie? Biggest regret? Cherished accomplishment? Do you want another son? Sorry, dad. It's Mario freaking Andretti. Super nice guy and put up with my awkward hero worship. Not an autograph guy but man am I glad my friend gave me that little sign to get signed. I am keeping that thing visible forever.
Well, I hope not but in case you need to know, it sucks. Not that kind of a roofy. I bought a used camper and it's awesome, except for a tiny problem, the roof leaks. Oh, and it was decorated to appeal to your grandma. So we had to fix both things, pronto. I estimated the job of doing the inside and roof to take about 10 days. Welcome to day 25! We are nearly done and back on the road. We fixed up the roof real nice like and no damage was done to the interior so we dodge our first bullet there. We plan to head south next. But first it's off to so-cal to film a TV commercial.
What? yep. A big company heard our story about changing the trajectory of our lives and wants to tell it. So I can't tell you what company or anything like that, but if you see my ugly mug and sweetie's graceful beauty on the TV, your eyes aren't playing tricks on you.
Someone recently asked me about my email auto sig, which one is of my personal motos: Take Risks. Way back in the day, once upon a time, I was a young, bustling, staffer to a Member of Congress on Capitol Hill. She had an event honoring the two sitting women Supreme Court Justices at the time. (I know, Chicks. Right?) So it was my job to escort Justices Sandra Day O'Connor and Ruth Bader Ginsburg from the car out front of the Capitol Building to the Old House Chamber where we were having the event. It took us about 10 minutes to walk (mainly because Ginsburg is older than dirt (see side story below) and it was just the three of us. I chatted them up. Ruth would have none of it, content to frown, hunch, and rot away. Mrs. O'Connor was a talker, though, and we sort of hit it off, I think anyway. She asked what brought me to DC to work in politics. I told her how I moved to DC with no job, no real political experience, and not even really knowing which party I would affiliate with. And, how I had formed my beliefs, and found a Member of Congress to work for whose ideals I aligned with. She asked about my motivation to move to DC in the first place, and I told her the only reason I really do anything, for a girl. Married her, so that worked out for everyone.
Justice O'Connor laughed and congratulated me for taking a risk saying something about how most people do not take enough risks and that taking a risk doesn't guarantee failure and how everything should be a learning experience. Everything she said made perfect sense to me. I have always been a nothing ventured, nothing gained type of guy, but never thought of myself as a risk taker until that moment. The ladies seemed to enjoy the event, I think it was tea party or something. :) Event went well enough and I got the Justices back to their ride. Got that old bag of bones Ginsburg into the front seat and the delightful Justice O'Connor in the rear. Sandra Day O'Conner started to roll up her window, we made eye contact and I said "Take Care" and she looked at me with a wise, knowing smile and said, "No young man, do not take care, Take Risks".
Actual photo from that day with the justices. Meet my co workers Danielle English and Cameron Gilreath. Spring 2000
Side story on Ruthy. There was a six inch riser behind the podium so she could see over the top of it. I had to physically lift her onto and off of the riser, she couldn't lift her leg high enough to climb the SIX INCH RISER. That was over 16 years ago. She still serves the Supreme Court today. Plus when I asked if I could take a picture with them on the way out O'Connor said yes and Ginsburg said no at the exact same time. The lovely O'Connor grabbed me and put me between the two of them and Capitol Hill Cop took our picture. So my extreme dislike of Justice is entirely personal, not political, i assure you.
You know the saying. Well, with RVing it is amplified ten times. Here are some photos of the camper getting primed. To paint over dark wood and RV walls one needs some serious primer. I opted for the bullseye 123, the heavy weight champ of primers. Seems to have done a bang up job as the paint took wonderfully. (paint completion pics forth coming). Imagine shrinking a 2000 square foot home down to 350. It still has pretty much everything but its all on a tiny nook and cranny basis. Simply maddening to paint this thing! I would be posting about how we are done with the cosmetics but we have been sidetracked by a serious issue. The roof leaks. So tomorrow we begin the roof repair procedures. I am installing solar panels so we can do some serious off grid camping-Hell Yeah!!! But I want to fix the panels to the roof and the partially wet roofing is not secure enough for me. So out with the old and in with the new. Rolling back the rubber roof and replacing the underlayment should provide some good "my god what have i done" type moments so stay tuned. Sweetie is a decorating genius so this camper will be best in show for sure when its done. Wish me luck!
