Onward to Canada, Two California Chicks Converge on Canada!

I am unsure why, but this has been the longest it has taken me to put together a ride report of a recent journey. Whether it was the thought provoking visit with my aging dementia ridden father the first day, or the fact I spent nearly every evening visiting with my riding buddy giving absolutely no thought to an impending ride report. Regardless of the reason, I have been home several days now, gone through my photos, and decided this was indeed an amazing ride though intermittedly laced with its share of cloudy skies and wet pavement. The time had come to get writing about riding!

What made this a great ride had nothing to do with the weather, but the fact that I was accompanied by an amazing woman, a triumph of woman flesh, a spiritual healer with one hell of a sense of humor. Tyler would be an asset to any ride, with her kind nature and glass half full attitude. There were days she shamed me, as I bitched incessently about the crappy gray skies, or nasty traffic, but by the end of the day she made me glad to be alive and in her company. My life on this ride was richer with her in it, and this coming from a solo traveler, speaks volumns. I guess it can be said that, Tyler rocks!!

This was Tyler’s journey and I was along for the ride. I knew there were a few spots along the way, that would be stops for her, like visiting the angels that brought her back from the next world, when she was run over by a semi on her FZ1 only three years prior. And here she is, riding her Can Am Spyder, touring with me. Amazing.

The tour began the same day for us both but from different points of entry. I from Sacramento and Tyler from the Bay Area. She decided to ride Hwy 88 over the Sierra Nevada mountains, leaving me to high tail I80 to Reno to visit my father in his assisted living center. My dad now a shadow of what he once was, had been a cowboy, contractor, Christmas tree cutter, and womanizer. The latter made me crazy, but that fact contributed to the man he became. He rode life hard, drank skads o’ booze and lost himself along this journey. He is now paying the high price for a life lived, as his memory clouds all the facts of his once rich lifestyle. He knows me most of the time, and others mixes me up with my brother, or my sister. He rarely mentions our mother or any other relatives. He is the last of the line of a CA Portuguese family. Having 7 brothers and sisters, he stands solo now, having lost them all. It’s sad in many ways, and there are days, I simply don’t want to deal with it. But this was not one of those days, I was visiting Dad then meeting Tyler in Winnemucca, NV. It was a humble day, a thoughtful day, but a day that was also silver lined.

My father and Shuman as well as an old friend, Cowboy. Shu from the Washoe tribe, was raised by my dad and is as close to a brother as my brother! Don’t we make a team. Dad doesn’t look like dad, but I suppose we’ll all be there someday.

This is the image I keep in my head of my father standing in the kitchen of his dreamed and built home. I keep this image safe and always available. This is how I choose to always remember my dad.

One must say that miles of this will keep your mind clear, or dazed. You choose, but today it was clearing for me.

Arriving in Winnemucca red hot afternoon embers glowed. The ever inviting motel pool called to me personally and I couldn’t get into it quick enough. While soaking in the cool pool, I hear someone yell, TYLER! No way, am I delirious? We are in Winnemucca, NV and someone undoubtedly knows Tyler. I am astounded, but not amazed. The world continues to grow smaller.

We had a group dinner with Dave and Diane, an FJR rider and his wife, on their way to Castlegar, for the same function that drew Tyler and myself. We were riding different routes, but the destination remained the same. It was an awesome night of laughter and friendship, making a fit end to a emotionally charged day. Tomorrow onward to Boise, ID to visit what I have come to call, Tyler’s angels.
Dave and Diane at our motel in Winnemucca.

The ride to Boise was long, hot and WINDY! If you have ever ridden in NV, you understand the kind of wind of which I am speaking. Gusts try to rip one off the desert floor and tumble you, like a weed. There is nothing quite like it on a motorcycle, especially the gas stops where just keeping the pump in the gas tank takes manuevering. We had a couple of humorous stops, one involving the Shell station owner in Jordan Valley, OR named Jim. Jim made our afternoon with entertaining tidbits about the area. Don’t pass the Shell station when passing through Jordan Valley on Hwy 95. Be sure to say “YO” to Jim from Tyler and Donna.

This started a theme for the entire journey…I believe she is saying, WHY?

I was saying that there were many who would not even know what Ethyl was at a gas station. Then my husband saw the photos and asked, “what’s Ethyl?” Wow, am I that much older??