Sunday Morning Already?

I knew there was a 6 am on Sunday morning. I knew that. I had seen it before. So this one was not a surprise. It just was no fun. I can hear you now asking "So why are you like doing this?" And the answer would be because I want to. At least I think I want to. I even know what the "next" question, from people who know me, is going to be and the answer is "none of your business." So there. Now where was I? Oh yes. Getting up.

Six is such a desperate hour. I get up before that five or six times on a normal week. Six is still desperate. Ok, ok, maybe it did have something to do with being out till 2 am. Maybe not. Either way the decision to go back to bed was delayed by seconds at the time till I was safely out of the apartment. Taking the dog for a walk. And walk. And walk. Man!!! Absolutely nothing working right this morning.

Finally all the stuff was out of the way. I took the cover off my BMW 1150 RT (that's a motorcycle Sugah, just in case ya'll didn't know) and unceremoniously threw it in the trunk of my car. My trunk doubles as my garage, ok? Any more silly questions?

Almost immediately the day took a turn for the better. Motorcycle, open road, nice temperature, what more could one ask for? Yeah, ok. One of them and more sleep. But what I had was what I had and that was a handful of handlebar, a crouch full of big ole seat and an engine that will take you there anyway you want to go. I also had a tank full of gas thanks to just a bit of foresight. I took the two wheels north on Macarthur Boulevard until I hit SH 161 or the George Bush Turnpike, whatever your preference. Before you actually get on SH 161 you come to the entrance to I635 which was my plan.

Cracked the throttle just a bit and watched the speed leap up to around 80. Ok, maybe I am not as coordinated as I should be. Back her down a bit and we compromise on 70. That should not get me a ticket and yet it keeps the engine rolling over fast enough to keep her happy.

Keep a look out for and find the I 35E exit, heading North. For those of you that don't live in Texas, there is not only a I35E North and South, there is also an I35W North and South. Just live with it or die from it, ok. Man!! Why do you want to aggravate an irritable guy this early in the day?

Swing North on the I35, keeping the speed up as I climb the interchange so I can practice leaning the bike over. Just never know when the Grandprix circuit is going to need a mature bike rider to drive one of those racers! Uh huh… As I said, practice. Leaning the bike.

Here is where I need to give you just a bit of an intro to motorcycle riding and two of the many ways you may wish to enjoy same. One, you can ride alone or two up and tour the country side at your own pace, anywhere from 5 to 150 mph. All you have to do is stay alive and away from Smokey. The other major way is to ride in groups, sometimes fairly large groups. When you do that, for everyone's safety you have to follow the rules, know the signals, speed up and slow down when told, go to the bathroom when the leader's girlfriend wants to, etc.

Some of us ride for the freedom we feel cruising the open road. Some of us don't. On this particular Sunday I was heading out to meet a friend and we were meeting up with a group of people from a club. That would be in Denton, Texas. Yes, Denton, yes, Texas. Are you awake? Several things that "Toys for Tots" riding at Christmas had not taught me. In groups, you tend to go slow. And stay together. Not much leaning. Because there are not many fast curves to negotiate. So practicing my curve riding on the way was about as practical as giving a cop a ticket. Just was not a lot of sense to it. I didn't know that at the time though, cruising up toward Denton with lots of plans and so very little knowledge.

I made it all the way to Denton, to THE Square, without seeing my friend. Visions of my bed kept crowding in, trying to spoil my day. So where was the turkey? Finally they showed. And we formed up. And headed out. And was that a thrill!! Or what? Well, it was right up there with growing grass, no, I'm sorry, with watching grass grow. Yeah, that's it. Every cloud has a silver lining so I hear. This ride had one for sure. A great breakfast. I mean a really great breakfast. After breakfast myself and my friend broke into a group of two and rode some more. I believe I logged almost two hundred miles that day.

I have to tell you, how far I rode, who I rode with, where I stopped, and how much breakfast I ate was not the big deal of the day. My continuing education was the big deal. I lived, I learned. One thing I know for sure, my idea of a great ride, is me, however many people want to get on my bike with me, and a twisting, winding, hilly road. The BMW craves these wooly rides and, I am not ashamed to admit, so do I.

So Matilda, take your motorcycle packs, your club rides, your great big tours and all those fantastic motorcycle destinations where really old people meet and get naked (yeah, naked, go figure) drink gallons of beer, and harass the wildlife. Leave me with an open road, a lot of God's natural scenery, and enough room for me and the bike both to stretch a bit and I'll be a happy rider. You are welcome to come along but if you bring one rule with you, keep it to yourself. The rules for my style and my destinations were written long before I was born.

I have one vacant seat.

Name Calling

My name is being called and I know it. Not an audible thing but a fact nonetheless. Eventually I give in, get dressed and go outside. There she is, sleek, shimmering, built for comfort and speed. And I know from past experience she is fully capable of both.

I walk up to her. She waits as if expecting something. I run a gentle finger over her curves, across the roundness, over the narrowing, then the flare at the back. There may be, somewhere in the universe, a more intriguing existence. Except for the female of the human race, I doubt it.

Dig out the helmet and gloves, throw a leg over, kiss the start button. The engine fires and she idles, a little rough as you would expect from a two cylinder. The roughness eases into unbelievable smoothness as the revs climb. But for now she is quietly gurgling, and apparently docile.

Helmet fastened, gloves on, kick her off the center stand and ease the clutch. She is rolling under her own power. Carefully enter the traffic flow and point her nose to a piece of crooked, winding asphalt she has not yet met.

At seventy-five, sixth gear, she is just ticking at the 3500 rpm mark. Might should go down one but not yet. Soon, very soon.

My turnoff ahead, downshifting, all the way down to 1st gear, ease the right turn and start winding the throttle. First curve coming up and it is a fairly easy “S” type. Ease her over to the right and she eats the first half like a dog with bacon. Upright for a fraction and then ease her over to the left, bringing her back up for the straight before the real fun begins.

The next turn is a hairpin and I downshift to enter it slowly, then start applying throttle as I lay the bike over more, not looking at the ground, just the road ahead. The bike is walking toward the outside of the curve and I bring her down even more. The foot peg is still inches from the asphalt, plenty of room to go. Still winding the throttle and just gently pulling the right bar, she comes around so nice it almost takes my breath away.

Then we are out of it and headed for the next one. I climb her through the gears, giving each a chance to show it’s stuff before moving to the next gear.

Another curve comes into view. This one I go into hammer down and at the last moment start to downshift and work those “fully integrated, ABS” brakes. Do they have the right stuff? Silly question. It is after all, a BMW. Speed drops, bring her over and this time decide to touch a foot peg. Start winding the throttle and applying a bit of pressure to the left grip. She is laying down but not fast enough for the speed. Bring her over more. She starts tracking to the center of the lane, giving me room and I use it, increasing speed. As the speed increases, the bike has to lean more to make a turn. This time I pour on the gas and bring her down, way down. I’m looking at trees sideways. And it is in this position, when I should be totally concentrating on what lies ahead, that it comes to me. I absolutely love this bike. She performs way above anything I ever expected.

I pull her down even more and feel the unmistakable bounce of the downside foot peg. Means we have gone as far over as we safely can. Shave a touch of speed and am surprised to see I’m still well above eighty. Man, she loves curves as much as I do.

Come out of the curve and wind the throttle, plan to exhaust each and every one of the horses in this baby before the next curve.

Top speed before I start downshifting is obscene. There should be a law! ...... Oh! Uh...yeah.........

I decide to take the next curve easy and enjoy the moment. Set my line, start bringing the bike over. As it hits the groove I see something but no time to react. It is a small patch of sand and I know I am about to hurt. Been there, done that, have the scars to prove it. Miss it completely with the front tire which is a small miracle. Just as I absorb that fact, the rear tire hits it and starts to slide. Due strictly to reflex I put in a little counter steer. A bigger miracle yet, the rear tire grabs and we are back on tract as if nothing happened.

Motorcycle riding is dangerous. I know how dangerous. I have felt pain and had stitches from several “motorcycling is dangerous” lessons. Motorcycle riding is also a part of me and would require surgery to give it up. Which would probably leave me like a three legged dog. Alive but not complete. If I am to ride, I must ride my way. My way is pushing the envelope just a bit. More when I was younger. Pain hurts worse now.

Next curve, half a mile. Wind her up through the gears, letting her stroll.

A Walk On The Sweet Side

She comes through the mist like a ghost, blue, shimmering, all soft, feminine form.

The vision of her makes one's heart pause, then continue, faster than before.

The world shrinks, one thought, one dream, one desire, to touch, to hold, to feel her heat.

She moves closer and suddenly the dream is real. Her heat is hotter, her being softer, her eyes brighter than any dream.

At some place in the universe there is an answer to my question, "Why me?". For now, all my answers, all my dreams, all my desires are here.

It is enough.

Mist

She rises out of the mist of an over worked intellect and the fog of an oxygen starved brain.

Shimmering, sparkling, sensual, sexy, a wild animal looking for prey.

She beckons to me.

"Come" she says. "I'll take you to places seldom visited and even less understood."

"Come" she says. "I'll show you thrills and excitement you've never dreamed of.

"Come" she says. "You'll wish you had a 100 years left to spend with me."

"Come" she says. "I'll entice, seduce, and leave you craving more."

"Come" she says. "You'll not be satisfied with less, come."

"Come" she says. "Join with me. Feel my heat. Feel me move against you."

"Come" she says. "Slide you fingertips over my curves, feel me purr."

"Come" she says. "Lay on top of me so we may create together."

"Come" she says. "Immerse you in me and find you."

"I will never love you. I will leave you. Before that, while I'm new and fresh, I'll take you there", she says.

"Come. Come to me. Join me. Be one with me. Hold me, dance with me, come."

Such is the call of a BMW 1150 RT.

January 21st

Woke this morning with the distinct impression that something was wrong in my universe. There was a noise. A steady ding ding drip drip. Went to the window and looked out. Rain!! Un-believable!! For those of you that don't know, the Dallas, Irving, Ft. Worth metroplex has had precious little rain since early summer. That was at 5 am. I still hear ding ding drip drip and it is after noon.

Remember the part about 5 am. After I ascertained the cause for the noise, I lay back down and of course sleep would not come. But my brain, ever searching for trouble, was making full use of this "awake but quiet" time. I think if you could take a fairly large river, run it through a large metropolitan area, and suddenly drain it, the exploration of said river would be kind of like the exploration of the human brain. No telling what treasures there exists, a lot of which is covered in junk. The steady addition of things like raising a family, taking care of a household, mowing the lawn, weed eating, all covering the next "Gone With the Wind" or "Roots". There have been some few people throughout the span of my existence who's brain I would seriously like to explore. Most to see what logical path brought them to the conclusions they were at that moment professing to espouse.

One of these people is a friend I first met at a very early age and with whom I remained close friends until I moved several hundred miles away. We lost touch and drifted apart, each of us pursuing our own idea of success.

Progress reports have come from time to time thanks to the chance encounter of family members and occasional trips to our shared city. We have not had the letter writing, telephone calling type of relationship that seems to always happen to other people. My thoughts were, and I suspect he would agree, that if we were not close enough to do stuff, what was the point?

So imagine my surprise when out of the blue I get a phone call. Yep, my friend. I'm changing his name to protect his privacy. I'll call him Ed. I have another friend named Ed but he lives in Dallas so he won't get confused when he reads this. Will you Ed? Ok. Ok! I'll call him Tom.

Tom was very cool. Asked about me, my children, how the divorce went, was I sorry, was I happy, was I dating, stuff like that. That my "Baby" is 31 with a wife and child of his own shows how little we've talked during the last 20 years. Of course I asked him the same questions. Neither of us have had consistently good luck with the sweeter gender. Something always happens. But that, well almost all of that, is a different story. One that hopefully will never be told. Obviously he had something he wanted to talk about. Just as obviously I had no idea how to lead him to it and so we continued the small talk for a good while.

Finally he started "I have a question for you." "Yes?" If you get the idea I didn't like his opening, you are right. Anything that starts out "I have a question" instead of just asking said question is usually trouble.

My lack of exuberance at his preamble was totally ignored, if noticed. With him one never knows. But he is a true friend and either of us would go to great lengths to help the other should we be made aware that help was needed. Except. Well…..I just had a feeling this was going to head off into love advice and I just really have none. Nada. Not a word. I don't want to be responsible for his failure and I have absolutely no reason to suspect I could advise him on how to make a bad situation better. Patience would have been a good thing on my part at this point. As if. He never did ask the question. Anyway he just kept on shooting the breeze and then with no preamble, no warning he just blurts out "I think I'm in love!" I say "Tom, calm down. Be careful what you say, your phone could be tapped or someone might be listening in." I hear "Very funny. Suppose it was you." "What if it was me? I'd know for sure before I called and then when I did call it would be just to tell you where to tell the police to find my body cause I sure as heck would shoot myself." "That's not funny." "Neither is laying love on me without so much as a tiny little bit of warning. Tell you what, before we get all upset and stuff, just tell me what you do know for sure and why you think you might be in love, and why you feel it is ok to just call up your very best friend in the whole world and scare him half to death. Man!"

"Are you really my best friend in the whole world?" "I was till you used the dirty word." "Did I really scare you?" Not only did you, you still are. Now please tell me about this most wonderful of vixens that has maybe stolen your heart." "How did you know she is wonderful? Have you been spying on me? You pay someone to check on me? What's going on?" Ok, now I am scared. I grew up with this guy. He use to be level headed. Intelligent. Nice. Great friend. Now look at him. I knew it. Love! Man!! This laid back, easy going dude is now Mr. Paranoid Nelson. I knew I was going to wish I had not answered that phone.

"Tom, we live seven hundred miles apart. Why would I care who you may be in love with. I'm not in love with her. Promise." "Ok, but it seems funny." "Get over it. Tell you what, try this on and if it doesn't fit then you can call your second best friend and I'll go get something tall and cold to drink. I knew she was a wonderful woman because you wouldn't be talking about love if she was not." What I didn't say was just like all the other wonderful women you have fallen for over the years. Reason I didn't say it was because that shoe fit my foot too. I could almost see the smile as I heard him say "Yeah, got that right." "So tell me already, ok." And he did. It was worse than I could have imagined.

"You know I went to church as a boy when we lived close to each other. I kind of got away from all that. A few years back I found it again and I have been going to this one church for about two years now. When I first started going there I was dating a lot, having a good time, not too worried about anything and certainly not thinking of settling down." (Man I'm thinking, this is soooo much worse than I ever dreamed.) "I finally started thinking of settling down and right away I noticed this lady in church. She is so beautiful. I mean really she is just the most gorgeous thing." "I got it Tom, I really do. She is gorgeous." " Yeah, she is. But she is also beautiful inside too. Just a truly marvelous woman. And she is divorced, which means she is single." Hey listen, Tom moves at his own pace. Always has. Just have patience. "I have sat close to her a couple of times and when she sings her voice is just too beautiful for words. She has the most beautiful blue eyes, and, well she is just too beautiful for me to describe adequately." About here one of us was starting to wish he would quit trying to describe this "most wonderful of women". But of course I didn't say that. I was not about to say anything or ask any questions that could stretch this out. I mean really! Love? But now that he mentioned it, I kinda like blue eyes too. Not sure why. I've never had good luck with a blue eyed woman. I mean as in nev ah. So I listen. And listen. His monologue developed a bit of a rhythm. Two words and then the word beautiful. Two words and then beautiful. I could have told me all about her after the first five minutes. Yes, I do realize I am being a bit close minded. And I do apologize to any of you reading this that might be female of the human species. It's just that his history, and my history, read about the same when we deal with love. Not pretty. If he has a problem and I do believe he is getting around to that, he should talk with someone that has a clue about male\female relationships. Does that make sense to you?

I had let my mind wonder and suddenly there was just way too much quiet coming from the other side of this conversation. Finally I hear "Well?" I'm thinking I should just say yes. Or no. Or maybe both. But I don't. I ask him to repeat the last couple of sentences as a big truck rolled by outside and I couldn't hear him. I could have just said no. The message I get is that this most beautiful, wonderful, adorable, truly, truly beautiful woman…….will hardly speak to him. And he calls me. To ask advice. Like I'm the greatest lover ever. Or even second. I should be flattered that he thinks I am worthy of answering his questions. I'm not. I suspect he asked other people first and asked me when their answers didn't please him. Did I have a surprise for him.

So here comes the big question. Tom says "Ok, here is the really big question. " (See, I know these things.) " How do I make this truly beautiful Lady fall in love with me?" Now ladies and dudes, I could have been really cold here and told him a lot of things. But I really do have a sympathetic bone or two. So here was my answer: "Tom, do you still have that really big .44 magnum revolver?" "Yes." He says, sounding just a bit leery of my question. "Ok, here is what you do. Go to her house, knock on her door, when she answers it, ask her to let you in. Tell her anything, that you have money, a year's supply of lingerie, a new set of kitchen knifes, whatever works to get you inside. Once inside, hopefully with the door closed, pull out that big ole revolver, point it at her nose, back the hammer, and tell her if she does not fall in love with you immediately, you will pull the trigger. After telling her that give her plenty of time. She has a big decision to make. "

"Very funny!" I hear. Along with some other words. Pretty sure those would corrode my computer so I won't repeat them. When he finally runs out of steam I ask him "What did you expect? I mean this is me you are asking. About romance. Get real! And by the way, does this woman have a name?" Well when he tells me her name, I just about fall out of my chair. Then I can't help it. I'm laughing so hard it hurts and I can't stop. I don't even want to stop. This is way funny. It is funnier than when Fred got his date's hand held (as opposed to worn) corsage caught in his zipper on prom night. Don't ask. We don't know but I suspect it was an early attempt at multi-tasking. If so it worked about as well as driving and talking on the phone.

Ok, back to my long lost buddy. I suspect you've guessed by now but if not, this most beautiful of ladies was not my ex-girlfriend. Worse. She and I were married many years before. Just out of the blue a crazy thought hit me. They deserved each other. I mean for real. If they were yoked together, the rest of the world was comparatively safe. Maybe. Neither one had shown a great talent for being faithful up to this point in their lives. Yep, this would be a good thing all the way around. All I had to do was make it happen.

"Tom, for the life of me I don't know why, but I'm going to help you out with this. But you really have to pay close attention and you have to say exactly what I tell you to. Otherwise this won't work and worse, she won't ever speak to you again. And you are going to need help." Tom swore he would follow directions and I believed him because it was obvious this was something he wanted. "Ok, here is what you do. Next Sunday, sit as close as you can to her but behind her so she can't see you without turning around. Enlist the help of a friend. Have him approach you start a conversation about marriage and engagements. While this is going on, just casually mention that the next Lady you marry will be getting a 3 caret diamond for an engagement ring. After you say that just kind of keep an eye on her. At some point she is going to turn around to see who this fine, generous man is. By the end of the service she will be tickled to go on a date with you.

And of course Tom said what any normal man would. "A three caret diamond! Are you crazy? I can't afford a three caret diamond. Do you think I'm made of money? You are crazy!" And he continued in that vein for some time. Finally, when he had wound down, stopped babbling, I told him "I know you are broke, she doesn't. So you can either start saving now for that ring, or you can find a really, really good CZ, that looks exactly like your Grandmother's heirloom. The one she left for you to give to your (ok, how many will this make, five?) wife, or wives. I mean you have to help yourself here. I can't do everything for you." I got a tentative "Thanks. Maybe" Then he had to go and I was feeling just a little guilty. Ok, maybe barely guilty. Get real! They deserve each other. No guilt!

It's been eight months since that conversation. Tom and I have had a few since. He asked me to be his best man, I declined. He wanted to know why. I told him that I didn't have time to travel seven hundred miles. I had a serious hobby that was taking all my free time. I didn't tell him that his new bride would have shot me on sight. Or that she was my old bride. This evening he wanted to give me one last chance to change my mind. The wedding is this coming Saturday. I told him sorry, but my answer had not changed. When he hung up I called the phone company and had my number changed and unlisted. I also went to Monster dot com and left a resume. They will be living in the Southeast. I live in the West. On Monster dot com, my letter says I am interested only in jobs offered in the Northwest. Alaska, Washington, Oregon. Places like that. That is one mean woman when she is riled and when she has that fake diamond appraised, as she will before long, I want to be so well hid a bloodhound couldn't find me. Life's great! Live every second like you own it. Ever heard of British Colombia?

Amm What

To learn something about this job, and to get 3 more credit hours, I found myself heading North by Northwest on Sunday, April 2, leaving Dallas, or Irving as you prefer, and joining a boiling mass of people all headed the same way. Up I35E to the junction and on to Oklahoma City. I left most of the crowd in Texas, around Lewisville I think. People really are strange when out on the highway.

But you knew that, right? Take for example the Yahoo in the Ford Explorer. Please. Take him out of Texas! Please!! On that particular stretch of highway from Irving to Lewisville and slightly beyond, traffic is always a problem and is always mind boggling. People doing 80 in the right lane and 40 in the left lane. The middle lane(s) just seem to muddle along. I pass some on the right, and some on the left, as do most of the alert, non phone using people I see. After all, I learned to do as Texans do by watching Texans.

I'm in the left lane, doing the posted speed limit, and slowly but surely start to catch up with this bright red Explorer. Young guy driving and at least one person as a passenger. I know this because not too many minutes earlier he had passed me as if I were standing still. Now he is doing about 60 in a 65. I catch a glimpse of the road in front as we meander along and can see there is nothing directly in front of him and indeed, there is nothing within 400 yards in front of him. I mean he just decided to slow down. Or maybe not.

I have seen some fairly strange behavior in Texas, as well as Mississippi and Louisiana. However in Texas it is usually people with license plates from either Mississippi or Louisiana. Or those with a phone stuck in their ear. This one had a Texas plate so I felt kind of safe but still you never know. So what I do is this: If I'm going to pass on the right, and since he is hogging the left lane, the right is my only option, I really step on the gas and get the engine moving before I give any indication that I am going to pull out and go around. Why? Because, believe it or not Matilda, there are those people that don't really care how fast they are going or how fast you want to go, they are not about to allow you to pass. No way, no how, no time. Which means once your intentions are known, you are in for a drag race if you really do want to pass. Well sure enough, as soon as I pulled out he mashed the gas and tried to keep up with me. Yep, in an Explorer. I pulled in front of him with a hundred yards between us but I was going too fast for my comfort. Texas tickets are no fun. I timed it so that I slowed as we came up to other traffic on our ight, slowing to a more normal and legal speed. I could see him in the rearview waving his hands and moving like a hula dancer but with apparently much less grace.

When I found a wide open area on the right side I moved over to the slow lane and he went by me like a bat out of New Mexico. You were expecting a different location? I just had to laugh though. The passenger was a Lady, apparently young, and I would say extremely upset at her guy. I suspect he caught plenty of trouble for many miles. I didn't see them again, he didn't try to block me in or any of that other crazy stuff people sometimes do. And it did lend a bit of excitement to an otherwise bland day.

My journey across parts of Oklahoma was uneventful and I finally arrived in Garden City, Kansas around 9:00pm. Never heard of Garden City. You have now.

I'm going to do some relating in this little article that may sound like complaining. It is not. For one thing I'm only going to tell each one once. You Ladies know what I mean. It's not complaining until at least the third telling, right? The other thing is this, I'm telling what happened. No comments. Absolutely no comments. Not a one. Ok, ok, maybe one. Or two.

The first incident happened early on first morning in Garden City. Most of us there for any of the various ammonia refrigeration classes stayed in the same hotel. The hotel has been catering to our type of student much longer than I've been going so they have a pretty good handle on what we expect and they do teach us not to expect more than the last group received because it just is not going to happen. One of the things they do is to give each guest a set of coupons. Each of these coupons is worth one breakfast. Well close. Each is worth one breakfast buffet. If you decide that scrambled is not your favorite type of eggs and you want fried, that will cost you something over $8 plus tip and tax. Don't ask how I know that. The other thing about that buffet is that it almost always seemed to run out of food just as I got to it. Literally. The eggs are coming, so is the biscuits. We still have plenty of gravy. So they did. My breakfast consisted of one piece of toast with gravy, half a small glass of orange juice, and a cup of coffee, for which I supplied the sweetener. That part of Kansas has not yet caught on to the Splenda option. Expect at the school. Which had plenty. Now where was I?

Oh yeah, the first incident. Not counting breakfast. At least not counting the food. Or lack there of. When I walked in to the dining room, I thought I must have died and gone to a cowboy convention. Or possibly a cowboy funeral. I mean we were wall to wall cowboy hats and cowboy boots. I'm not too sure where the idea came from that a cowboy was romantic or gentlemanly. I was raised as a Southern Gentleman and I can tell you without a blink of an eye that had I worn a hat in my Mother's house, it may very well have been the last time I ever wore a hat, the U.S. Air Force not withstanding. Once all these people sat down, and I stood up, I just about could not see the floor for all the wide brims. Mostly black so I guess they are all practicing to be the bad guy. Oh, there is one thing I didn't tell you. These guys were BIG. I mean huge. And they were there every morning. Some had ladies with em. But you just have to know I didn't tell anyone of those big ole boys to get that hat off. Nope. Live and let live is what I say. Just didn't realize how many orphans there were in the West. No doubt in my mind their mommas would have beat em senseless.

One more and please don't think I'm picking on Kansas. I've been a lot of places. Most of them had their share of strangeness. You don't think it's me do you? Anyway, there is one more little ditty for you and this one you can check out for yourself if you'd like. There is, in Garden City, Kansas, a zoo. And I can hear you now. "Yeah, so what? Every little town has some kind of zoo." Patience, they say, is a virtue. Try being virtuous for a second or two.

Where was I? Oh yes, zoo. Now this zoo has a name, it is the Lee Richardson Zoo. And it is located, and I quote, at 403 South 4th Street, at the entrance of Finnup Park. I'm not going to mention all the possible connotations that Finnup park brings to mind. I'm just going with the facts. I have, so far, quoted directly from the zoo brochure. Did I mention that the brochure also has a small map on it? It does. And it has a little arrow pointing toward the top of the page and that end of that arrow is labeled "N". As it should be. The other end is labeled "S" as it should be. The other arrow that crosses this one is also labeled correctly, "E" for East and "W" for West. And if you look closely you will see that the map has a First Street that runs due North and South. It has a Second Street that is angled from the Southwest toward the Northeast. And way over to the left (West) is a Street labeled 8th. There is a Finnup Drive that makes a semi loop. It basically goes from the Southwest to the Northeast but looks more like a loop, with the sag toward the South side. It then curls and curves and comes back over the top of this map, more or less, and once again heads West. There is a Sante Fe, a Maple, a Carter, a Frederick and a Isabel.

Look as I will, search and pry, I can discover no, and I mean absolutely no 4th Street. North, South or sideways. And, to top that off, there is no Finnup Park marked on the brochure either. If you remember the park is located at 403 South 4th Street, at the entrance of Finnup Park. I'm still wondering about the complexities of humanity and why, with all that goes on in the world and with the set of specific problems that I personally have, why this stuff gets noticed. But it does.

That, Dear Friends, is the end of my philosophy adventure, at least for the moment.

Take care of each other and be kind to all. We all belong to God.