Coop's Corner: The Other 850

Saturday, November 12, 2016

The Other 850

Decided to bring it home with the rest of them.

After breakfast with Mike and some more sorting at Mom's house, I hauled Dad's '80 Suzuki 850 home. I bought my '79 right after he and I got home from Aspencade in early October of 1978. My shafty Suzuki instantly became a favorite and my summer-long Maritime/New England trip the following summer must have been enough to convince dad to get an 850 of his own.

Not sure and only very recently making up my mind, the decision has been made to see if I can't make it go again. I've flip flopped numerous times back and forth as to whether it was a way that I wanted to spend my time and it seems that my heels have now become dug in. As I've said before, we are going to need longer winters.

When Minnesota stopped supplying new plates every year or so, Dad wasn't happy and decided to take a stand......

Our neighbor Paul has been really working hard dismantling our barn and yesterday between removing barn boards and salvaging the old hay fork track, he rode his old Honda down the valley. He bought it brand new from our local Honda dealer (I have 2 in the garage that originated from the same store) and has had it ever since....3250 miles. Starts and runs first kick every time.

This morning it was once again up to the Big Town for coffee at Diamond's. From there, back to mom's and more treasures uncovered, some of which will be shared very soon on these very pages. Spending more time there going through the many items and then with a stop at mom's current residence the afternoon almost got away from me. Certainly cooler today than it's been with a hard frost here overnight, it was still a lovely afternoon. A very quick and short loop on the KLR just to say that I had.

I've been seeing this pretty thing parked at our local marina and today had to stop for a photo; it isn't what we normally see here plying our local waters. Lord Nelson Victory Tug
Sorry, I can't get Little Lord Fauntleroy out of my head once I saw the description on the boat....it must be a phonics thing; how my brain is wired.

Aired and oiled up the Helix, most of the bugs cleared from the windscreen. Tomorrow's nice weather is expected to include some miles on the bright yellow one.

8 comments:

redlegsridesNovember 12, 2016 at 7:12 PM
Restoring your dad's motorcycle seems a worthwhile project....that tug boat is teeny.
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SonjaMNovember 13, 2016 at 4:03 AM
Restoring your Dad's bike sounds like a very worthy case of spending time in the garage during winter time.
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David MasseNovember 13, 2016 at 5:16 AM
Doug one day you should begin publishing a separate history for each of your bikes, including those that were once but are no longer in the family.
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TrobairitzNovember 13, 2016 at 10:34 AM
Wow, how do you know which project to work on first? I like how your dad took a stand with the plates and his registration tags.
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Others say....

"it was auspicious to approach any situation from a deferential, inquisitive place. Conceding that there is much to learn is the best blueprint for discovering something new." ----B. Fuller

The Man straightened stiffly above the block of salt fixed to the stake and looked at the young cattle ringed about him. The pasture was holding out well and the stock was looking good. This bunch would be ready to sell in another month, maybe sooner if the market was right.

A stir among the cattle down near the river brought him round to face the swinging bridge he'd built years before. Someone was coming toward him from the bridge. Someone in breeches, but it didn't look like a man, somehow. What was a woman doing in his pasture this time of night?

He bent over the salt again; maybe if he paid her no heed she'd go on past and let him mind his own business. He heard her footsteps come nearer and stop. "Good evening," she said.

Her voice was smooth with book learning but friendlier than most, and somehow almost shy. When he made no answer she went on, "I've been sitting on your swinging bridge....I thought I'd like to say thank-you...." Her voice stumbled a little, then she tried once more.

"You are Mr. ____". His name sounded strange in her voice, but she went on to tell her own.

"That's what they've called me the last sixty-eight years," he said, looking past her face to the hills fast darkening under a single star. "I reckon the woods are free for those that like to walk there."

The unfamiliar voice laughed a little. "That's what Emerson said: the grove belongs to the man who walks in it with an open heart....On that basis I guess I've owned part of your woods for a good many years.....". She made a final effort. "I've always wanted to thank you....."

Something deeply hidden stirred in him. "There's a stump up there, in the notch of the woods", he said slowly, "that before the timber grew so tall you could stand on it and see all over this country."

He kept still a minute, remembering, then, "I used to stand up there an' look at things, an' wonder how they come to be like they was, an' how the hills was created, an' all the things in Nature.... I told my wife I guessed all the religion I ever had I got standin' on that old stump, a-wonderin'..." He turned his face away from her.

She helped him out. "I know about that, a little. This afternoon I saw......." Her account of a thing she had really taken time to look at eased him, and he answered with telling of the badger den at the foot of the swinging bridge.

When she had gone, he turned to watch her. After a moment she stood clear and unmoving against the sky. You could hear the sounds of the river where she stood. She was one that could stand still long enough, he thought, really to hear what a body was saying, or a river.

Then she walked down the farther side of the slope and was gone. ------Margaret Snyder from A Chosen Valley

Fall was the end of harvest, end of the growing season, a burst of color and sun-warmth before killing frost turned the land gray and cold. Fall was a moody time, full of both life and death, a time when we were reminded of the power outside of us, reminded that the seasons happen to us. We do not invite the change to come.-------Ben Logan, from The Land Remembers

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them. They are the lifeboats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes or should have been all along, what would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What lifeboat would you grab onto? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write? ------- Ben Tyler

We were also cautioned about journeying far from home. As an example of the dangers, the town had a badly crippled lady named Lucy, who as a girl had traveled to New York City. As she traveled along a sidewalk, sightseeing, she was struck by the outstretched hand of a suicide who had leapt from high above. Her spine had been shattered and for the rest of her life, she was to walk bent forward at the waist, tapping the sidewalk with two black canes. Whenever the subject of travel to a big city was raised, someone would say, "Just remember what happened to Miss Tripp." ---- Ted Kooser, from Local Wonders

"Steamboats are like wedding cakes without the complications...." ----Mark Twain

"It's not about having lots of money, it's about having lots of options......." -----Chris Rock

As the very proud father of three former ponytail wearers, hopefully I can get away with this....."For the past few years it's been fashionable for young women to wear ball caps and to snap the strap on the back under their ponytails. I like the looks of that, their shiny ponytails jauntily swinging, but it's hard not to think of the rear ends of horses. There's a piece of harness called the crupper that goes just under a horse's tail to keep its nose down. If the horse lifts its head to look for a way out of whatever predicament it's in, the crupper tightens and hurts the horse. But it's foolish for parents to think that a ball cap might keep a young woman from running away. Anybody can see they're made for running." ------Ted Kooser, Local Wonders

"I tell the guy's girlfriend that the only difference between the book's main character Phaedrus and myself is that I am neither brilliant, tortured or insane, she looks at my bike and there is an uncomfortable silence." --------ahendepe (a.k.a. Vermin)