The Breakfast Club: MOA Rally 2015 [page 7]

Saturday, July 18, 2015

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Alberto’s tale… DAY SIX - BILLINGS

This story actually begun yesterday. When we got the three beds. Randy took one room all by himself. Chris, Harvey and I shared the other room which had only two beds. Hmmm… Kinky. Very kinky.

I was sleeping long before they got back, so I do not know how they sorted out. It seems that I got the bed, and they shared the other bed. Remember, they are relatives. Only right!

I got up as usual at 5:00 am. No sooner I was up, Harvey asks: “you up Alberto? Done with that bed?” Yep! Without a blink of an eye, Harvey moves over and takes over where I had slept. It appears The bed they had, whenever one moved at all, the entire bed moved and made a lot of noise. Harvey, may be a light sleeper. Seems he did not sleep at all!

Neither Harvey nor Chris stirred until 7:00 am…. Ring! Riiiiinnnng! What da-hell? The phone. Who could be calling at this time. I thought either of then had the administration do a wake-up call. Chris, half asleep answers, in the typical asleep cryptic talk, and hungs up. “Who was that! jesses!!” Believe it or not. Randy, had had a good night sleep and was up and awake wondering about us.

Needless to say, that surely woke up the crew.

We got cleaned up, dressed and packed all the equipment. Going to the bikes we discover them wet, soaked with the overnight dew. Towels, a bit of wiping and good as new, in fact better!! Clean bikes!

We hit the road by 8:00 am. It is early, the road is clear (compared to the traffic of last night) and we make Astoria in 15 minutes. First things first. Gas. We all needed to load up. I am looking in all my pockets. Next the jacket, finally the trousers I wore last night… No credit card. This is going to be a problem. I pay with cash. And commence to evaluate possibilities.

We leave the gas station going a few blocks away for breakfast. Now comes the serious thinking about my credit card. Reasoning that it would take them easily 25 minutes, I disclose my dilemma to the rest of the crew and announce that while they eat, I will go get my credit card (I knew exactly where it was as I had used it last night at the restaurant - but, would it be open? Take my chances!) . In 14 minutes I a arrive at restaurant. Closed. People from next door tell me they will not open until noon. Ouch!, Explaining my predicament, one of them volunteers “there is always someone in the back, he is the cook preparing many things”. Sure thing, I walk to the back and there is a door open… “Hello! Hello-o! Out comes, call him Manuel (whatever his name). Mexican 100%. Right off the bat, I go into Spanish mode.. Make friends and tell him my problem. “No te preocupes, te la busco”. (Translation: no problem compadre, I looki for ju). Three minutes later, there he is with my credit card. All right! Small gratuity for him, and I peel off to my awaiting compadres.

I called Chris indicating “I got it, where are you guys?” - “we have not moved. Still eating breakfast”. Come back, remember we are on 11th street.

I was back with them before they changed their minds and leave me behind. I said I could be fast!

Time to visit the famous Astoria Column. Chris had insisted “you must see it Alberto”. So we went to the hill that has the column. Chris forks out $4 bucks…parking. For what?! The column is under repairs and is completely covered. You cannot see it at all. I asked the attendant charging four buck for what!? “the view of course”, he said and promptly apologized. Nerves! But that is just his job and not his fault. Nice kid.

While parking we had a mishap. Harvey is insuring my drop-the-bike-kinship with him develops. Yes, he dropped the bike. Like a wounded cow with hooves up in the air, there it was lying on its side, looking so undignified. First things first, everyone got his camera out and snapped away! Do you really believed we would not record it. You must be numb. After the pictures, of course, now we can help. We restored dignity to both bike and rider…. Slowly. By the way, bike and rider suffered nothing other than a massive stab at their dignity. All is okay.

Continuing North, we crossed the Columbia River. This puppy is big! Some miles later, Randy was going a bit too slow or my temperament. I kept coming up his rear a little too often. He looking in his mirror certainty was not happy… So, the next best thing: pass him! Oh man! HONK, hooooonk, hoooonk and honk again! That was not cool. As I was “dusting” him, Randy blows his horn for the length of my passing. He was not happy at my doings and he was making sure I knew of his dissatisfaction.

I caught up with Chris who is hauling ass chasing a Beemer. Moving like the wind. There I was right behind him. Mild mannered Harvey had stayed behind with Randy. But, Chris and I… Goners. After a while Chris pulls over on the side of the road to wait for Randy and Harvey. They caught up and blaring his horn again, Randy dismounts his iron-steed gets his guns out and unloads both barrels into Chris and Alberto. I kind of expected it and had prepared Chris for it. No matter, Randy was, as he put it, “blowing steam”, at our insensitivity. And make no mistake, Randy was furious!

Randy is right and Randy is wrong. Remember, I have been taught the SMBC way. As I was educated: “… Remember at SMBC, you ride alone”~ Dimitry Struve (maybe he did not create the statement, but I learn it from him). And to me it has become the means for independent thinking and riding. To quote Carl, when once I asked him: “Carl, which way are you going?” His reply: “I ain’t tellin’”. Boy, that really put it clear to me. At all times, I am responsible for myself and no one is to account for me.

Okay, this is not an SMBC ride, and this is not the place to “ride alone”. Still. This is my take: I will look back and wait for you.
Count on that. Also, You can do the same, if you like, I will not be expecting it from you. (But if you do, thank you!!).

As result of this explosive event, Chris slowed down to accommodate temperaments. That is the mark of a good leader. My hat off to you, Mr. weld.

Enough of this event. I certainly dislike having had to relate the story. But it happened. It must be told as it happened.

Randy’s bike has a rear light burned. In some town we stopped to get it and at the same time get something to eat. Somehow, I maneuvered us into going to the Burger King. Aww man! Love that junk. Give it to me for breakfast, lunch and dinner! So what if I get obese and die, let the Surgeon General mind his own business, I will Whopper my way in life.

We stopped at a couple of places. Randy has been keeping a quiet distance. Sooner or later he will forget the entire episode and recall it for what it was…. Some silly ass event.

We continued North all the way to Port Tawsend. 50 or so miles from Canada. We went to the port itself to get the boat schedule to cross the bay onto the mainland. There are plenty of crossings available. $4 bucks for bike and rider. Cheap!!

Next we went to Pat and Pam Moorthy’s house. They are friends of Chris. Let me tell you, every body should know these two. And when you know them, consider yourself lucky! What people. I wonder how does Chris collect such an assortment of genuine good people?

He, Pat, is a beer guzzling, foul mouth, burpin’ guy. Ahh, but you will love him. Nothing phony or pretentious about him. Generous to a fault. Do not try to change him. He is 74 years old and probably tell you where to go if you try. Way to go Pat!

Pam. Well, she is prone to give you a hug as quickly as hit you with a frying pan over the head, if you give her reason. She is mechanically inclined and a handy woman of sorts. Independent and fiercely so.

They both live life of luxury, not money wise, but rather quality of relationship. My kind of people!!

We went out for dinner, packing all six of us into a pick up truck. Fish and Chips was the menu, intertwined with great talking and very animated spirits.

That is it from this side of my sleepy head!

Good night all.