Z
zrex1100
Guest
I need to back up a paragraph. After deciding the Holiday Inn was too pricey for tonight's budget, and their attitude was too close to what I'm familiar with back in Virginia , I rolled out to the edge of town and saw the sign pointing toward Mesa Verde. I had planned to explore Mesa Verde if time allowed. Unfortunately, the route, CO-160 west lead straight into the cloud. Also, by the time I rolled into Durango, the clock struck 5:00pm, well, close enough to 5, that I decided against the whole Mesa Verde trip.
So, anyway, I'm back at the Budget Inn unloading the Uly. This process is very familiar by now. I removed both pieces of Wolfman Luggage and the tank bag. Once inside the room, I unload the tank bag so I now have a place to store dinner. I hop on the unloaded, much lighter Uly and head out to explore Durango in the misty rain. It's rush hour, so the streets are busy.
Diagonally across the street from my motel is a Subway. Perfect. I head straight over and order up a Tuna Sub LOADED with accouterments. As the lady is building the Sub, I notice three or four colorful bikes pulling into the motel directly across the street, right next to my motel. I'm almost certain this is the group I saw the day before back in Arches NP. I sieze my dinner, return to the bike, and I'm tempted to go talk to the group, but I have a more important mission. Beer!
I go into a gas station and look through the drinks. There's no beer. I ask someone inside where I can buy beer. He gives the Colorado history about supermarkets selling weak 3.2 percent stuff, or I can get the good stuff at one of two places, located at either end of town. None of this makes sense to me. In Virginia, if I want a beer, I can get a beer anywhere. This is turning into an ordeal. But I wanted a beer. I left the gas station and ended up in the historical district of Durango. I pulled up next to 2 girls and asked them where I could get a beer. They asked if I wanted to sit and drink a beer, or get carry out. I'm thinking I could have brewed my own batch by now, but I said 'carry out would work just fine, thanks.'
They gave me directions that led toward the Holiday Inn I had already visited, and right down the street from the Holiday Inn was a well equipped liquor store. I scored a couple beers, and now I'm heading back to the motel. As I pull up to my parking space, there's a fellow in the space next to me, putting a cover on his Gold Wing in preparation for the night.
I'm feeling chatty, so I roll up, remove my helmet, lock the bike, and introduce myself. At first, I can tell this older gentleman is sizing me up. He seems to be trying to figure out if I'm going to bum something off him, or something. Finally, he says hello. I tell him my name, and before long, he knows my life story. About a half hour later, I know his life story.
His name is Bob from Carson City, NV. 6 kids, 15 Grand Kids, etc.etc. Bob is super interested in hearing about my trip. I'm totally tripping when he mentions he and his lovely wife are just completing a 48 state tour of the United States. Oh man, I can only imagine the stories he has to tell. We continue talking, and just as when I was talking to Stan the evening before in Arches NP, Bob's wife continues whatever it is she's doing in preparation for the night. It's as if these ladies of the road expect their husbands to have extended conversations with strangers. This stuff never happens to me in Virginia!
Anyway, we continue talking for at least a half hour, and honestly, I started to feel bad for keeping this gentleman from his wife. Before ending the conversation, Bob said he was heading to Provo, UT to care for his dad for several weeks, before heading up to the Dakotas to finish their 48 state tour. I was gobbling up every word he spoke.
We finally wished each other well and went separate ways. And as usual, I didn't get a photo.
I went inside and discocvered my previously iced cold beer wasn't so iced cold anymore. That's okay, I'd just come from an engaging conversation. I grabbed my ice bucket and went to the ice machine across the way. I returned to the motel, put both bottles of beer in the bath sink, and pour the ice on top. Then I went for another load of ice.
On my way back to the room the second time, I walked past a couple obviously struggling to get their door open. I stopped, grabbed the card and slid it into the key slot. They were so thankful, you'd have thought I just bought them dinner. He see's my riding jacket and asks where I'm from. I tell him Virgina, at which point he gets excited and says "Greensboro North Carolina here!" He then leaves his wife, and starts walking over toward my bike. Before long, I know all about his '1983 something or other that hasn't been started in years but is sure it runs motorcycle sitting in the back of his shed',' and now he wan't to know all about my bike.
Pretty soon, the ice is melting. I'm getting more and more hungry, more and more thirsty, and less and less chatty. He grabs my hand and nearly broke it with the handshake, saying, "God Bless You Dave and Keep The Rubber Sign Down." I said something about "well He always does bless me and I always try to keep the rubber side down." That's pretty much all he needed to hear, and he split.
I went inside, popped open a beer, slammed down my sub, and just enjoyed the blessing.
So, anyway, I'm back at the Budget Inn unloading the Uly. This process is very familiar by now. I removed both pieces of Wolfman Luggage and the tank bag. Once inside the room, I unload the tank bag so I now have a place to store dinner. I hop on the unloaded, much lighter Uly and head out to explore Durango in the misty rain. It's rush hour, so the streets are busy.
Diagonally across the street from my motel is a Subway. Perfect. I head straight over and order up a Tuna Sub LOADED with accouterments. As the lady is building the Sub, I notice three or four colorful bikes pulling into the motel directly across the street, right next to my motel. I'm almost certain this is the group I saw the day before back in Arches NP. I sieze my dinner, return to the bike, and I'm tempted to go talk to the group, but I have a more important mission. Beer!
I go into a gas station and look through the drinks. There's no beer. I ask someone inside where I can buy beer. He gives the Colorado history about supermarkets selling weak 3.2 percent stuff, or I can get the good stuff at one of two places, located at either end of town. None of this makes sense to me. In Virginia, if I want a beer, I can get a beer anywhere. This is turning into an ordeal. But I wanted a beer. I left the gas station and ended up in the historical district of Durango. I pulled up next to 2 girls and asked them where I could get a beer. They asked if I wanted to sit and drink a beer, or get carry out. I'm thinking I could have brewed my own batch by now, but I said 'carry out would work just fine, thanks.'
They gave me directions that led toward the Holiday Inn I had already visited, and right down the street from the Holiday Inn was a well equipped liquor store. I scored a couple beers, and now I'm heading back to the motel. As I pull up to my parking space, there's a fellow in the space next to me, putting a cover on his Gold Wing in preparation for the night.
I'm feeling chatty, so I roll up, remove my helmet, lock the bike, and introduce myself. At first, I can tell this older gentleman is sizing me up. He seems to be trying to figure out if I'm going to bum something off him, or something. Finally, he says hello. I tell him my name, and before long, he knows my life story. About a half hour later, I know his life story.
His name is Bob from Carson City, NV. 6 kids, 15 Grand Kids, etc.etc. Bob is super interested in hearing about my trip. I'm totally tripping when he mentions he and his lovely wife are just completing a 48 state tour of the United States. Oh man, I can only imagine the stories he has to tell. We continue talking, and just as when I was talking to Stan the evening before in Arches NP, Bob's wife continues whatever it is she's doing in preparation for the night. It's as if these ladies of the road expect their husbands to have extended conversations with strangers. This stuff never happens to me in Virginia!
Anyway, we continue talking for at least a half hour, and honestly, I started to feel bad for keeping this gentleman from his wife. Before ending the conversation, Bob said he was heading to Provo, UT to care for his dad for several weeks, before heading up to the Dakotas to finish their 48 state tour. I was gobbling up every word he spoke.
We finally wished each other well and went separate ways. And as usual, I didn't get a photo.
I went inside and discocvered my previously iced cold beer wasn't so iced cold anymore. That's okay, I'd just come from an engaging conversation. I grabbed my ice bucket and went to the ice machine across the way. I returned to the motel, put both bottles of beer in the bath sink, and pour the ice on top. Then I went for another load of ice.
On my way back to the room the second time, I walked past a couple obviously struggling to get their door open. I stopped, grabbed the card and slid it into the key slot. They were so thankful, you'd have thought I just bought them dinner. He see's my riding jacket and asks where I'm from. I tell him Virgina, at which point he gets excited and says "Greensboro North Carolina here!" He then leaves his wife, and starts walking over toward my bike. Before long, I know all about his '1983 something or other that hasn't been started in years but is sure it runs motorcycle sitting in the back of his shed',' and now he wan't to know all about my bike.
Pretty soon, the ice is melting. I'm getting more and more hungry, more and more thirsty, and less and less chatty. He grabs my hand and nearly broke it with the handshake, saying, "God Bless You Dave and Keep The Rubber Sign Down." I said something about "well He always does bless me and I always try to keep the rubber side down." That's pretty much all he needed to hear, and he split.
I went inside, popped open a beer, slammed down my sub, and just enjoyed the blessing.