Three Harleys, Six Kids and a “Whole Big Bunch” of Rocky Mountains

Earlier in the summer, Kent sent out an e-mail inviting any interested parties to go riding Harleys with him at the end of the Chapman Family Reunion scheduled for Steamboat Springs, Colorado this July.  He got a couple of nibbles and some definite bites.  You are looking at the back side of the “definites” as they anxiously wait to sign away their lives in exchange for 24 hours of pure Harley bliss.

 Yep.  Just like kids in a candy shop—where  to start?

 

Kent found a motorcycle like the one that Jim was renting..  A true blue Ultra Classic Electra Glide.  Somehow, my husband with the least amount of experience of the three, ended up with the newest, biggest, most powerful model.

.

I was hoping that Jim was not freaking out like I was at the massive size of this motorcycle that even had an armchair and stereo in the back for my cruising pleasure as he received a brief tutorial on all the “need to know to stay alive” aspects of this machine.

Marcy and Rhonda got to wear the white “I’ve Ridden a Harley and Survived” shirts.  My yellow shirt branded me as the  “I’m Not Really Sure I Want to Do This But If I Die At Least It Will Be With My Husband”  type.

 

The view to the west was a little disconcerting as the black clouds continued to build.  It was probably a good thing that we decided at the last minute to take all the official Harley rain gear they offered us.  They also had a place to leave our vehicle there over night as we drove back to the condos in Steamboat Springs.

The Rocky Mountains were beautiful, but it took awhile on the back of the motorcycle to get up the guts to get my camera out and start taking pictures.

 

I still think we looked like a bunch of German AWOL  Prison Guards.

We became very acquainted with the back side of Marcy and Kent.

The Rockies had some gorgeous views as well as lovely Stop signs..

 We started out with mostly sunny skies and could ride in just T-shirts, then the sun would go behind the clouds and we had to pull on our jackets, then the sun would come back out and off came the jackets, then the clouds would threaten rain and . . . Well, you get the picture.  This little dance went on for quite awhile.

There were enough high-tech gadgets to make even my honey happy.

There was one aspect of sitting on the back of a motorcycle that I never did get used to:  “Leaning into the curves.”   It just does not feel natural to lean so far down as you round corners that you feel the road whizzing by next to your ears.  Jim assured me over and over that motorcycles were literally DESIGNED to do this, but it made no difference.  Every time I saw a sign showing a curve or turn in the road ahead, my stomach automatically clenched, I would hold my breath and instinctively start praying.  Just for your information:  there are a LOT of curves in the Rocky Mountains.

Marcy had acquired skills that were way over my head..  She could pivot in her armchair, stay seated AND get pictures of the actual front side of those of us behind her.  And somehow, Kent could go around corners without leaning.  I know – I scientifically judged the angle as I watched them very carefully from behind to see if they appeared to nearly hit the pavement on their sides like we did.

This is what we were driving in to which only added to my mounting “excitement.”

It was fun to stop occasionally, chat, check out the view, stretch the legs and take  pictures of more than just backsides.

We had to come up with a plan that allowed Jim to get set and stabilized before I got on the back and before I got off as well.  The time I forgot the plan was quite memorable.  One man alone cannot a heavy Harley heft as it heads for the ground.

Some people look good in just about anything.

Some people just look like they belong in a helmet.

 

And the only word that comes to my mind when I see myself here is “Dweeb.” 

I know he secretly hopes there are Harleys in heaven.

And I have a feeling they are going to want to do this again.

I should’ve paid attention to those with experience.  Under NO circumstances should you EVER take off your helmet once you’ve been on the road.

 

These are the “those with experience” that I was talking about.  Notice their circumspect appearance.

 This nice lady loaned me her leather coat and chaps.  She somehow sensed my hesitancy in this little expedition and wanted to make things as pleasant as possible.  Thanks to her I was completely outfitted, even down to the sunglasses.

The bikes looked so good sitting there, that an Asian guy had his wife take his picture next to them while we were up on the rocks taking our own pictures.

As we climbed up the Rockies, the weather got a little more serious and we decided to start layering with all the gear they sent us before the clouds unloaded on us.  This was no easy task as  the underneath trousers had suspenders that were nearly impossible to adjust once you put the rest of the stuff on.  Especially later if your hands were frozen and most especially if you needed the facilities five minutes ago.

 

There wasn’t much that fazed this guy—either that, or his smile was getting stuck.

I can absolutely guarantee you that at this point of the journey my smile was beyond frozen.  If it hadn’t been for Rhonda’s wisdom and mercy in bringing all her ski gear to share, we would have been victims of hypothermia and frostbite at the very minimum.  It was pelting sleet and ice in a frozen wind, and we couldn’t feel any body part that was exposed to the elements, let alone see what was ahead of us because our glasses would fog up.  The road was under construction and was a gravelly muddy mess that slanted down to a deep ditch to our right.  These are NOT optimum driving conditions. We had to travel VERY slowly because construction was STILL going on in spite of the weather and traffic was barely moving when it wasn’t stopped for 20 minutes at a time to let the oncoming lane get through.  Do you know what that means when you are trying to keep a very heavy Harley upright? 

Poor Rhonda.  It’s hard to converse when your tongue is frozen in this position.

One nice thing about these bikes.  They had handle grips that were heated and boy did they come in handy as we crossed this section so high in the Rockies.  It’s always convenient when the driver’s hands can still steer even though the rest of the body may be frozen stiff..

I don’t remember where we stopped for dinner after we came down off the mountain, but I do remember that it took about 15 minutes to get out of all of our gear.  I wasn’t about to take off my helmet again, but my compassionate and loyal little sister Marcy, PROMISED me she wouldn’t laugh.

It was bad enough that she broke her promise the split second she saw my new and intensified  “Helmet Head Hair-Do,”

But when she couldn’t stop???

We finished the drive home to Steamboat Springs through the dark under the stars and a full moon, which to be honest, was very beautiful and could’ve been quite romantic had we not nearly plowed down a dead deer lying in the road while going 60 miles an hour.  My capable husband dodged it quite cleanly, but it left me straining my eyes for more unexpected surprises in the  dark and not feeling very relaxed..

The guys had to return the bikes back to Loveland by 1:00 p.m. the next day, so they opted to take a different road back that was much faster and not quite so scenic. 

 

I was full up on the beauty of the Rockies and quite content to let Marci take my place on the way back.

 Kendi was feeling adventurous as well.

“Parting is such sweet sorrow.”   Pretty sweet for me.  Pretty sorrowful for Jim. 

Actually, lest I leave the wrong impression somehow – it really was quite an adventure, and I would do it again having learned some valuable lessons and having earned my own white “I Survived A Harley Ride” T-Shirt.

Cabin’s 40th Birthday Just Around the Corner

In the summer of 1971, our parents decided to build a cabin up in the mountains of Groom Creek, Arizona.  I remember that Mom, Dad and Grandpa Richens spent a chunk of the summer up there getting the basement excavated, the log walls up, and the roof on.  While we were there this summer, I was noticing the massive logs that cross the length of the inside of the cabin and how high up they were and wondered HOW IN THE WORLD did my parents and my Mom’s 80-year old father accomplish this without the help of cranes and other equipment. 

 

Mom wanted a front porch.  Grandpa and Dad didn’t.  Without them knowing, Mom ordered the logs for the front porch anyway, and we have all been extremely grateful for her foresight ever since.  It has been THE place to hang out and relax, read, visit, eat or (my personal favorite )--  watch thunderstorms.

Going on walks through the forest every day was an accepted part of life at the cabin – except for Dad, who acquired a certain aversion to such activities.  This picture is of pre-aversion-to-exercise days.

I loved the cabin, and spent time there every summer of my life except for when I was on a mission and later when Mom and Dad were in Winnipeg on their mission.  I brought many friends there over the years, but the most exciting one was my newly acquired fiancée in July of 1983.

Back then I wrote in my journal that we spent hours at a time on the motorcycles and that we would wear out before they did.

Had I known then how much my future husband loved to ride motorcycles, I might have wondered if he was marrying me for myself or for my Dad’s unique collection of lovingly maintained motorcycles.

 

.

 

 

 

Here’s Dad lovingly maintaining one of the mini bikes.  This is a position I remember seeing him in many times.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1152 Wagon Wheel Drive this summer.   Mom has been busy over the years planting all kinds of trees, bushes, vines and flowers.

 

Mom has a unique collection of lovingly maintained chairs – My personal favorite is the yellow and orange striped one.  I’ve collapsed on that chair after many a long fast four-mile walk through the forest.

 

Growing up, there was nothing on the other side of the back door--just a 10 to 12 foot drop to the ground below.  About 11 years ago, Jim was recruited to design the back deck and the construction began.  Many of the extended family helped swing hammers that summer and before long the cabin had expanded significantly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is me being proud of my exquisitely placed nail.

This is Dallin at 13 just before he learned to work with his tongue out the corner of his mouth just like his Grandpa.

  

It was always impressive when you could entice Devin away from his books.

 

I always wondered whose face Darren was visualizing as he pounded that nail.

 

Caryn and Marci helped with the clean up.

 Grandpa’s had this little bee in his bonnet for some time about putting a roof on the back deck.  This summer the little bee prevailed.

 

This was Nathan’s proof of prior experience that secured him the position as Assistant Cabin Deck Roofer.

There must be something that hits Grandpas at 80 that makes them want to do dangerous things in high places.

Loved the view from the deck.

It didn’t take Nathan long on a rooftop in the Arizona sun to remember why he loved summers in Seattle.

 

This is the magical red hat that never dies—note its presence in the picture when he was building the deck 11 years ago.

I have such wonderful memories of breakfasts on the back deck.  Mom always had something good to eat.  One of our favorites was corn meal mush and this was the only place we got it.  Of course, nothing topped “THE CABIN BREAKFAST,” which included eggs, bacon, toast, orange juice, and hash browns.

It’s weird to think that when I was this age, I was sitting in that very same nogahide rocker.  It was a point to consider . . . how many noggies had to die for Dad to reupholster that chair?

Pay special attention to the safety-code compliant ladder being used in this picture.  The old wooden steps were decomposing, the nails were rusting and the legs were not even the same length causing it to lean at an angle, but it did classify as “antique.”

 Mike, the policeman next door, must have had a long day at work and didn’t much feel like dealing with another accidental death.  He very graciously insisted they use his ladder as Dad worked three floors up or perched at precarious angles on the edge of the roof.

 

 Nathan actually learned how to smile in the heat.

Temperature-reducing dark clouds were  a beautiful sight to behold.

 

 

Mom is usually right up there working with Dad.  How many nearly 80-year old women have you seen lately nailing boards up on a roof?

 Jamie is nearly 14 and the age that I was when we built the cabin.

When I grow up and get a cabin, I want a piano in it as well.  Jim only had a day or two with us at the cabin this year.  I REALLY missed him.  He flew back home after driving us down.  He didn’t actually just sit there and play the piano while the roof was going up.

 Oh, there’s a lot of history with swings at the cabin over the years.  This is the second one Dad put up in the back  after the famous tire swing in the front was retired several years ago after having lived a long and fruitful life. 

 Rhonda and Art made it down to the cabin recently and were able to get some shots of the deck roof that we never saw completed.  Thank goodness for the Smith men who came up from Mesa and helped Mom and Dad finish after we left.

 Mom says it’s like having another huge room added on.  No more mad dashes for the inside of the cabin with your meal and dishes when it starts to rain.  Ah, nearly a half century of wonderful cabin memories.