Tiger Tales: Sharing Stories In The Rain

Thursday, 21 August 2008 12:05

He was young, and he had his woman with him.  They were both new to it, and so was the ride they rode.  It was raining hard, and we were going to be there awhile.  They asked me what was the finest road I had ever ridden.  And I told them I hadn't rode that one yet.  He smiled appreciatively and pressed me for an answer. 

So I told them about The Pacific Coast Highway, about how it was all twists and curves and inclines.  I spoke about that other ocean coming to the shore on one side and the Santa Lucia Mountains on the other.  I went on some about the seals and the whales.  Told them how the ride south along the PCH puts you closer to the ocean.  I mentioned San Simeon and a diner in Pismo Beach and a fish place in Monterey.  I told about Point Reyes and Mendocino and crossing the Russian and the Noyo and the Mad and the Columbia Rivers.  I mentioned a lumberjack restaurant in Samoa.  Then I told them about Oregon and Washington and The Olympic Peninsula. 
The rain increased, so I informed them about the Natchez Trace Parkway.  I began by telling about discovering it in 1982, before it was even finished.  This time I spoke about the gentle, sweeping road, the verdant forest beside it, and the centuries of history up and down it.  And this time I talked about turkeys and deer.  I told them about crawdads in Natchez and boudin balls on down the road.  I said it was a fine road, even with the fifty mile an hour speed limit.

After that, I told them about the Blue Ridge Parkway, and how I had first ridden it thirty-five years ago.  Again, I spoke about hooks and curves and switchbacks and mountain inclines and long views.  I told about woodchucks and black bears.  I went on some about the biscuits at Doughton Park.  And I said how this ride was near as pretty in the Spring with the wild flowers in bloom as it was in the Fall with the trees coming to color.  I told about the water falls and the French Broad River and Blowing Rock and the Skyline Drive at the north end. 

The rain didn't let up a bit.  My next story was about the highways down in Big Bend, U.S. 385 and 67 and Texas 170 and 118.  I told about Study Butte and a motel in Marathon and how I listened to the Spanish angels in the canyons of the Brave River of the Borderline.  I spoke about the emptiness.   I went on about gila monsters and antelope.  And I talked about enchiladas and tamales.    

They wanted to hear some more, so I told them about the ride around Lake Superior, counterclockwise.  I explained that, even though it was August, I rode in my leather the whole way, that there was still snow in some of the shadows in the ditches.  I told how the road turns inland at Wawa and runs through the wilderness and then back to the lake at Marathon and then on to Thunder Bay.  I said I had seen moose and beaver, but I hadn't gotten much in the way of good food.  I explained that the northern forest was so dense that sometimes it was like riding in the dark.  

The rain began to dissipate some, but I continued and told about the run down into the Florida Keys.  I told how it was thirty-five years ago, before U.S. 1 became a long, skinny parking lot, before the condos obscured the view of the sea.  I said the conch fritters and Key lime pie was delicious, and I talked of running down through the bridges in the moonlight above the still water.  I spoke of dolphins and manatee and palm trees and Key deer.  I remarked about Sloppy Joe's and the woman gone crazy on Caroline Street.

As the rain ended, I informed them about Deals' Gap and The Dragon, back before it was an event with a t©shirt.  And then I told them about the Foothills Parkway and on through the Smoky Mountain Park at the top end.  Then I spoke about the Cherohala Scenic Skyway at the bottom of The Dragon. 

The rain was done, but they wanted to hear some more, so I told about Rocky Mountain Park and the road from Steamboat Springs to Estes Park.  I told them about the run through Glacier, about the Million Dollar Highway.  I spoke of elk and buffalo.  Then I went on about the ride through Yosemite and the one through the Black Hills.  Eventually I got around to telling them about some roads out in northwest Nebraska and some others in New England and the Canadian Maritimes.

By then, the highway was dry.  They offered to buy my supper for me.  But I told them I had a road to ride.

Dr. Mark Tiger Edmonds is a retired St. Leo's University professor and has logged more than a million miles on his motorcycle journeys.  He is the author of the Ghosts of Scootertrash Past and Longrider, an eclectic collection of stories about his experiences and encounters on the road.  You can hear Tiger on Cycle Rider Radio Sunday Mornings from 8am to 10am on 740am The Game or worldwide on the web at www.cycleriderradio.com.  For more information about Tiger or to purchase his books and cds visit www.drmarktigeredmonds.com.