Hobot, you are the Jack Kerouac of the Norton world, your stream of consciousness postings and references to fermenting, evokes images of someone brewing illicit hooch up in the hills while emulating the fence-jumping scene in ''The Great Escape', with the 'revenuers' in hot pursuit. Was the Steve Earle song 'Copperhead Road' by any chance based on your own life story? I suppose the real conundrum is whether to drink the stuff or run the bike on it! ... Dave
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Dave, we all seek our dream machines, witness the wonders created for show
and go. So yes I'm living real fantasy via Commando's - Combat especially.
As much as I focus on racing around, every trip on my Combats brings
some adventure beyond just the ride quality.
I've clear pasture to Steve McQueen on. I get flashed back to TV Lassie
in a moon lit storm with leaf carpeted rutted path with branches
swaying to break too. i did a lot of night travel, exploring
in confidence with 300 mile fuel. So much so I was pulled
aside by local and told Do Not Go Up The DEVILS BACKBONE after
dark.
Rugged climb to heights of Ozark Plateau along a raising ridge.
Its a place like song is about, moonshine, meth labs and pot crops.
Also hermitages for Viet Nam drop outs too blown away for social life.
Told i'm a stranger so a danger and bikes are desirable and hog
pens digest all evidence.
Later a new friend took me half way up to meet some of natives
in middle of road, in head lights dressed like Deliverance,
they literally sniffed me as walked around me like animals do,
gulp.
The second deer death broke my heart worse than my
bones as meant no more safe journeys even though I now share
in the BackBone's black market goodies.
Realize my severe state of mind and being to feel safest at 85
after dark to never ever be deer stuck from the side again.
Think Biker Movies gangs charging each other WOT.
Commando life ain't a walk in the park lark to me.
I only go 40-45 though the elk area with tail between legs.
But they don't leap blindly like over grown wood mice do.
hobot
