7pm

Tavern on South

423 W South Street

Indianapolis IN 46225

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Editorial by Charlie Williams (Humor)

So I was just a sitting there in my trailer home, swatting flies and enjoying all the technology of the oscillating fan, when the phone rang.

“Hullo?”

“Hi Charlie, Brian Hawthorne from the BlueRibbon.”

“Yea, so.”

“‘Yea so?’ That’s the kind of response you give your old Buddie Brian?’”

“Yea, what?”

“Charlie, it’s not that bad, I have a new opportunity for you.”

“Yeah, what?”

“The Forest Service, the Bureau of Land Management and the Parks Department are having a meeting and I want you to go.”

This shut me up quick, I flashed back to the last meeting I went to with Brian, I drifted off, all Martin Sheen, Apocalypse Now kind of drifted off. Not a good experience for anybody.

“Charlie, you still there?”

“Yea,” I said mistily.

“Are you crying?”

“Nnnnnn…yes, a little.”

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad, we are just going to discuss the geospatial data on wildlife habitat effectiveness into the analysis, which will lead to re-evaluation of the decision nexus.”

I was really crying now. That first meeting was a very bad experience.

“Brian, are you being mean to me?”

“No Charlie, I’m not trying to be mean to you.”

“Brian, is there ANY way I can get out of going to this meeting? Anything?” I’m begging at this point.

“Well, actually, Charlie….”

I could hear other people laughing in the background, sounded like the BlueRibbon office gang and I was on speaker phone.

“Well, actually, Charlie, my bike needs washed and filters changed.”

“Well that sounds like a good deal to me, Brian.”

More laughter in the background.

“No really, Charlie, the easiest way for you to get out of going to this meeting is to send your $20 membership dues in. I’ll go to the meeting for you.”

The people in the background are laughing their tails off now, but I was not upset, I was relieved; I didn’t have to go to the meeting.

“Go ahead and laugh,” I yelled in the phone!

“Oh, Charlie, we were just teasing, it’s pizza day here and we’re all standing around having lunch; we thought it would be fun to give you a prank call.”

I was coming back to my usual good humor and said: “It worked, I’ll get the check out today, just please, never make me go to another meeting.”

So really, readers, think about it: do you want to go to a meeting and try to discuss geospatial data? Uhhh, I didn’t think so. Keep your membership current, or Brian will be calling you some day.

—Questions or comments on this article should be directed to the BlueRibbon Coalition: Phone: 208-237-1008. Email: <brmag@sharetrails.org>.

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First start with a ten inch dutch oven with legs. A dutch oven is a heavy cast iron pot with lid and handle, they are designed for out door cooking.

Fire up about 20 charcoals. Charcoal burns at a steady temperature, the only time I’ve burnt cobbler was when I used wood coals, they burnt too hot, so use charcoal.

While the charcoals are getting ready, spray the inside of the dutch oven with some Pam to help clean up later.

Open two cans of peaches or what ever fruit you like. Peaches are good and cheap, dump them in the dutch. I usually add about half a can of 7 UP or Sprite for extra juice.

Take a box of white or yellow cake mix and dump it on top of the peaches, I like to smooth it out using a large spoon. Squirt some squeeze butter on top and place the lid on the dutch.

Set the dutch on top of about 12 of the charcoals and place 6 coals on the lid. The whole secret to dutch oven cooking is placing heat on the top and bottom.

Sit back and tell some tall tales, after about 30 minutes you should see some steam escaping from under the lid, you are getting close. Carefully lift the lid and check occasionally, you’ll know when its ready.

Remove from the coals and let set for a couple of minutes, set the lid aside and dig in. My favorite thing to add to cobbler is home made ice cream and I’ll run my favorite recipe for that next month.

Boogum:

This recipe for Boogum comes from John Farish, he got it from his friend who is a native American Indian named Chiefie. Boogum is considered a Idaho delicacy.

Any how, you can make Boogum out of just about any road kill you can find, we’ll use dog here because they can be found in every region of the country.

So find a freshly killed dog, you want to be very selective here, it is imperative the skin remain undamaged, no splits or cuts.

Take the dead dog home and find two pieces of plywood just a little bigger than the dog and place a sheet on top and bottom of the dog.

Very carefully back your truck over the plywood, start slowly, you don’t want to break the skin, you just want to liquefy the entrails.

Once all the bones are broken and the entrails are properly prepared you will want to tie the legs and tail up using some waxed cotton thread. Your objective here is to block the exit. Boogum is like a walrus or Tupperware, always looking for a good tight seal.

Next you’ll need two sets of vice grips and a clothes line. You want to hang the dog by the ears over the clothes line, use the vice grips to hold it in place.

Next you need some patience and a few warm sunny days. A week is usually a good. Once swelling and bloating has achieved its maximum your Boogum is ready. Take a large bowl, and untie the tail, Boogum will dispense fairly rapidly, so have the bowl ready to catch.

Serve at room temperature. You can also make small batches of Boogum using mice or rats, perfect for parties. Well, thanks for the tips John and Chiefie, we’ll see you here next month for home made ice cream.

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It’s deep winter here where I live. It’s been 7* for two weeks now. Iv’e spent hours under the trailer wrapping pipes with heat tape. Skirting, hay bales, visqueen, foam strips with sticky on the back, towels rolled up and stuck under the doors. Ice, ice melt, shovels, chippers, scrapers, I’m going nuts, stir crazy, too many fumes from the kerosene heater. I want out, I want to go ride my bike. But first I just have to survive the night. My trailer is desperate, formaldehyde fumes, boredom, apathy, lethargy, emotional emptiness, squalor, filth, and a brand new 77 inch plasma TV.

I have every TV satellite programmed in on my boot leg receiver, I get all the channels, free, just no sound. Well, I do have sound but it’s from the next station up on the dial, so I might be watching Super Cross, but I’m listening to Maury Povich and his cast of under aged mothers who are sleeping with their own mothers boy friends. The best part is when the crying and wailing matches up with the Chad Reed interviews.

I need to go out to the mini barn and get my bike ready for the mythical spring weather I remember hearing about. But, like I said before it has been 7* for two weeks, that means every thing is 7*, the concrete floor is 7*, the bike parts are 7* the wrenches are 7* the oils are 7* every thing is 7* and I need to put a new tire, oh, that will be fun…..

I need to go buy another heater, another extension cord and some more of those multi plugs to get more juice out of my poor little trailer. I glanced at my electric meter and that little wheel was spinning like the back tire on the back of a C class moto crosser.

I drove to the Mega Buy Low, where they save you money at your expense. I wandered aimlessly because to save me even more money, there is no sensible order to the lay out of the store. Lets see, diapers, glue, personal lubricants and jumper cables. Next isle, ketchup, batteries, mirrors and cleats. Next isle, oh boy, heaters! I look them over and the smallest cheapest one is advertised as a “Space Heater.”

I’m perplexed, isn’t space like really big? How could this little heater heat space and why hasn’t some one fired one up and gotten us out of the 7* slump we are in. Then there is the worry about global warming, tough to sell me when it’s 7*. But if I plug in this little heater and it causes global warming won’t democrats show up at my door?
I stood there in awe, this little 6”x6” $12 heater can heat space…..

Eventually a pimple faced kid in a Mega Buy Low vest walked by pushing one of those big mops.
“Excuse me young man, can you explain this little heater to me?”
“Well sir, it is a space heater, you plug it in the wall.”
“But isn’t space really big, like all the way past Pluto?”
“I don’t know sir, would you like me to call my manager?”
“Well if he can help explain this space conundrum.”
Another kid in a Mega Buy Low vest walked up, he was just as young as the first kid.
“How come you got to be a manager and he’s mopping the floor?”
“My name is Andy, his is Carl, they give us promotions alphabetically so I got to be manager, he’ll be a manager in about an hour. Poor Steve won’t make management till after dark tonight.”
“Okay Andy, explain this space heater to me”
“Well, you plug it in your wall, it gets hot.”
“Thanks Andy the Manager, I know that part, explain the “Space” part.”
Sarcasm is one of my most charming attributes.
“Well Sir, I think it means it will heat “A” space.”
“Isn’t there only one space, the final frontier, Steven Hawking, black holes, Mars, Jupiter, Pluto?”
“Well Sir, would you like me to get a Supervisor?”
“Sure, I’m half afraid to plug this little bomb in, what if it causes global warming? You ever seen Time Bandits and that little toaster oven? It contained Evil. I’m afraid this little heater will cause democrats.
Just then both boy’s cell phones buzzed and they acted like they were remote controlled robots. Must read text message……
Andy and Carl both grinned and said: “I made Supervisor!” “I made Manager!”

Aw screw it, I’ll buy the little heater, it’s only $12 and if it looks like it’s going to actually heat space up, I’ll unplug it, I’ll also be wary of my mini barn lifting off like a hot air balloon. I had visions of changing my tires in a T shirt, even sweating a little.

Thirty more minutes of wandering around I found the extension cords and much later the little multi plug, I had also found seven flavors of pork rinds, some out of date Slim Jims and since I was there, I picked up some of the personal lubricants, but that’s another story.

Back home I strung out the brittle cheap extension cord in the snow, I plugged both ends and very, very carefully turned on the new heater while chanting:
“Space, the final frontier….”
The little red light came on and a little hummmmmmm. I stood in awe, then in dismay, then in disgust. Was that little red light putting out the heat? I could warm one side of my hands or one side of one hand to be more exact. This little thing was not going to heat the final frontier, no wonder the manager of Mega Buy Low was looking at me like I was crazy. I’d never be able to show my face in there again. But then I realized both boys would have been promoted to corporate headquarters by the time I got back and I would be safe.

I stood with very warm shins and arranged my tool bench, frozen wrenches stuck to my fingers, snot dripped and froze making little clink noises when they hit the floor. 8 degrees, 9 degrees, 10 degrees!

I dropped down on my knees on the 10 degree concrete, numbness killed the pain. The big wrench slipped off the frozen axle, my knuckles cracked against the razor sharp sprocket teeth. This reminds me I need new sprockets and more Band Aids. Blood drips and freezes, lots of blood, puddles of blood, frozen puddles of blood.

I grab for a rag to apply direct pressure. Rag soaked with solvent, severe burning, excessive pain, I move for a clean rag, knee slips on frozen blood puddle and do a taint stretching split. I put my elbow on the jagged edge of the foot peg to raise my self out of the excruciating splits posture I’m in. Ruptured Dog they call this pose.

In just a moment, I realized that all of space is located just above my sock and where my pants leg ends. That little patch of bare skin is space, and that space is being heated, really heated, really really heated by my new Mega Buy Low Space Heater.

Sweet Jebus! I’m burning alive! I smell bacon, I like bacon, just not right now! Oh heaven and earth! My mind raced, if Evil could fit in a toaster oven, then it only makes sense that Space could fit between my sock and my cuff. It truly is a space heater, and I’m going to die because I doubted, I questioned, I plugged it in…

“Mom, Dad, don’t touch it, it’s EVIL”

I’m stuck in the Ruptured Dog pose, I’m cooking to death, time and space have come together, not like I expected…. I dreamed of actual time travel, but instead I’m frozen in time and my space is being heated.

I hear foot steps in the frozen snow approaching the door. It’s Wife, she has come to save me, she does love me. The flimsy door creaks open, and in her 3 pack a day, phlegm and carcinogen coated voice she croaks:
“I can see your crack.”
Then a long drag on her Virginia Slim and she finishes with:
” Vegan Manwich is ready.”
She slams the door, which does not latch and the three degrees I had gained are quickly lost.

This is it, this is how I go out of this world, cooked to death over a Space Heater. I start to black out, first tan, then brown then, black. I can still hear, but I can’t see, heated space has rendered me blind. Not really, too much juice on the breaker and the lights shut off. The pain on my shin subsides, and I’m able to flop backwards and break the Ruptured Dog.

I stagger back to the despicable trailer and suddenly, with the warmth, the smell of delicious Vegan Manwich, my trailer does not seem so bad. I’m glad to be there, glad to return from my brush with heated space. My trailer is not pretty, neither is Wife, there cooking meatless Manwich in her Moo Moo, but this is home, and after my near death experience, I realize things could be a lot worse. I could be Chad Reed.

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I’ve said it before here in the ABATE magazine, Lawrence County Recreation Park is not the final step in off road riding, it is a building block that opens doors to riding around the world.
See as off road riders, we want to ride to far off places and LCRP is a great place to build the skills so you can ride to a far away land. Out siders don’t understand this, they think just riding around in circles and dust should make us happy. They don’t understand it’s not the bike, it’s what you can do on the bike, like visit far away places.
Had I not learned to ride when I was young, and built my riding talents at places like LCRP and Big Johns farm and Red Bird I could not have gone on the adventure I went on a few weeks ago. I’ll tell you about it:
Somewhere in the west, a friend of mine bought a small cabin. Over time he has gotten tired of riding all the popular trails and has been researching old trails that are legal, but forgotten. In this far away land, if the trail is not constantly maintained, it will get completely choked off by dead trees falling across it until soon it is lost. The only evidence is the blazes cut by the first people using the trail. A blaze is a rectangle cut in the bark of a tree by a axe. From one blaze you should be able to see the next blaze and that’s how trails were marked in the beginning.
Now in the real beginning these trails would have been animal trails. Trappers and Miners would have followed these trails and they are the ones who would have cut the blazes.
Most of the time a trail goes some where. Now that “Somewhere” may be long gone, but these trails would have been major transportation arteries back in the day. Miners would have to get from the mine to town or to the river or to another mine or even the brothel. Trails went every where.
So my friend had been studying the maps, kind of connecting the dots between the local small town and the mine high above in the mountains. He decided there would be a trail there, it just needed sleuthed out. He had been exploring and had found some evidence of trail and blazes and it looked like this trail should go to point B on the map.
So I was lucky enough to be there on the day he made the big push to open the last several miles. Two bikes with chain saws mounted on them and me for grunt work. Well we were way off the beaten path, way way way off the beaten path… No one had been on this trail for many many years. We were high on a mountain ridge and the trail meandered from one side to the other. On the east side it was calm and still, but when the trail crossed over to the west side of the trail the wind was blowing about 50 mph and sheets of rain was falling off in the distance. Just a couple of degrees above snowing.
The progress was slow and at times we were just guessing on the best way to get a bike through. Just because a Miner and his mule can get through, does not mean it will make good motorcycle trail. There were sections where we were on very narrow side hill trails with say 1,500 feet of exposure. Now it would not be a straight down fall and if you slipped you would probably only go a little way, but if you really messed up and your bike flipped over and gained one ounce of momentum, well it would not stop until it reached the valley floor 1,500 feet below.
Here’s an idea that will help you visualize this. Next time you are riding your street bike, see how long you can keep both tires on the white line next to the shoulder. Then pick a section with no shoulder and try it, then find a section with a 1,500 foot drop and try riding the white line. Very nerve wracking and you really need to get your head clear before tackling something like this. Then, add some 50mph winds and some rain, this is the kind of trail riding I live for.
No you can’t find any of this at LCRP, but you can build skill and nerve so when you do get a chance you can do it.
A skill you can work on at LCRP is jumping logs and the next section on our trail was just that. We were back on the narrow ridge top and you could see blazes straight ahead for a couple hundred yards, smooth sailing, except there must have been 100 trees laying across the ridge in every direction imaginable. I saw this and just went wild, I love hopping logs and took off! I was in dirt bike heaven, I hopped and jumped logs to ten minutes or more. Some times getting trapped and having to back track to figure my way out of this maze. There were logs ten inches tall to logs over three feet tall and every one of them on a tricky angle, I was very happy. Now my two partners don’t like jumping logs as much as I do so they took the time to chain saw out some of the worst ones, but man, for that short period of time I was in nirvana.
It was getting very late in the day, it had taken much more time and work to find and open this trail. See there was more than just cutting logs, we did quite a bit of rock moving and trail building just to get through. We were well past the point of no return. We had one head light between three bikes, it was 3 hours of hard riding back and we had 30 minutes of light. To ride this country in the dark would have been hellish if not impossible. A night out in 50mph winds and rain? Ummmm better keep pushing on and hard. See here is another hard ship you can’t practice for, but experience will help with, crunch time. Both chain saws were getting dull and cutting slower, we had no idea how much further to the intersection that we were only hoping existed, we didn’t actually know if this trail connected to our escape route.
I could have had a melt down pretty easily, I wanted to have a melt down, but there was no time. My two friends cut and scouted at a fierce pace, it’s serious business now.
So back to LCRP, you build your riding skills, then when you get on a big adventure you can handle it, we’ve already seen terrifying side hills, steep climbs and descents, tricky rock gardens, logs to jump by the hundreds and now the mental game of race the clock.
Lucky for me, both my companions are rock solid, experienced experts and I am honored to be with them at this point. We may spend the night out, cold and wet, but we gave it a hell of a try and I know we will be safe and make it through the night, build a fire, build a shelter, I’ve already eaten all my candy bars….. Is it too early to think about cannibalism? They both have chain saws, I’ll be the first one to go. Maybe I’ll shit my pants to keep them away….Spoil the meat… See how quick the mind can go when your are under stress?
There, off in the distance is a white tarp tent. Now that’s scary to me too, is it a hunters camp? Are hunters ever glad to see dirt bike guy’s? Ever seen the movie Deliverance? My mind just races off in another terrifying directions. I’m glad I had shit my pants.
The trail went straight to the camp so did we. It was abandoned and a mess, some one had left all their trash and junk out in the woods. We pushed on, cutting logs and searching for the life giving blazes on the trees, we must keep going to get out. Then as Bill was cutting his last log, he hollered: “Here it is!” He was standing about 5 feet from the trail we were searching for. You could not see it until you were right on top of it.
Now the new trail we were on is considered a very rugged trail but after what we had seen, it was a highway and we cruised down the mountain and got back to the cabin about 5 minutes before black. And I mean black, no moon, no stars, just low hanging clouds and black black black.
I had to use all the skills I’ve learned from riding bike my whole life, plus some skills where you just have to throw caution to the wind and keep pushing on.
The first time I rode this area several years ago, our guide put some Pink Floyd in the stereo, the David Gilmore tune went like this:
There’s no way out of here, when you come in you’re in for good…….
Wow, very poignant lyrics to where we were in our day. But we had made it home safe to big steaks and cigars not to mention warm beds. But I was left with a new feeling. I know now, that if I never get to ride my dirt bike again, I have been to the mountain and I can die a happy, accomplished rider.
So spend your time at LCRP riding, ride in all conditions ride like your life depends on it, then go some where. Seek out the highest mountain you can climb, it may not be Everest, but how far can you go? And that is what LCRP means to me

Charlie

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But, attendance started falling off a few years ago and unofficial polling discovered the new young generation was not as tough or stupid as the older generation.  I’m 50-50 on making that call, I say softer, they say smarter, what ever.  The club started making the run easier to finish.

Any more it’s a cake walk, I could do it with a parrot on my shoulder a patch over my eye and a tropical rum drink in my camel back,  arrrrrrrr.  But alas, Treaty City still finds a way to beat me.

Now they are using transmitable viruses to make the run tougher.  How so?  Well the ride was great, super duper trail, lots of single track, well marked and we covered a lot of ground.  It was great fun, plus they use old school rules which means you kind of have to time keep if you expect a decent finsh.

But….. Some where along the trail, I caught a common cold, maybe it was one of the creek crosings I splashed through trying to impress the dozen or so spectators.  I don’t know how they did it, but I woke up Monday feeling weak and by Tuesday it had advanced to a full blown stay in bed all day feel like crap with all the popular symptoms.  Runny nose, ithcy eyes, deep cough, congestion, general itching, sore mussels and skull colapse.  I even had a few string warts appear but took care of them asap using an old voodoo trick my Grand Dad taught me.  I”d share the trick with you but if I tell any one, I loose my power for future wart removal….

So here we are 7 day’s after the fact and I”m finally able to move my fingers enough to type this warning.  Do not attend the Greenville Treaty City Enduro unless you dare risk riding miles and miles of great Ohio trails.  Under no circumstances would you enjoy ripping across fields at 100mph then back in the deep woods for even more single track trail.

The weather last Sunday was perfect, cool, breezy and sunny.  No dust, no mud, no ruts, no traffic, no mud bogs, no sink holes, no hemorrhages, no amputation, decapitations, degloveing, or gouging.  Just good riding and great folks.  All except that tiny deadly virus…..

Ahhh the sadistical side of an Enduro club….  A new way to beat me, not that it’s that hard to make me crumble, but it just amazes me how they can keep coming up with new ways to beat me.   Did I learn any thing?  Naw, I’ll be back next year and I’ll try harder!  That is the true enduro spirit, never give up, never stop trying.  I can beat those Farringer boy’s, at least the old man, if I can just get some gumption, some drive, some will, I can either step up my game, or roll over and give up.  I”ve got a year to prepare, I’ll be back!

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Too many riders are afraid of the rules, time keeping and such. But for the most part, most riders should not fear the rules, you are a long way off before timekeeping becomes part of your strategy. Rather you should worry about ever seeing your truck again….

Just ride for fun, don’t fear something you don’t understand. Try something new, stretch out of your safety circle. Ride an enduro, you will thank me once the bleeding stops.

Besides, like Dr. Randy Nemitz taught us: “Motorcycles were invented to go somewhere.”

See you Sunday at the 65th annual Treaty City enduro in Greenville Ohio. Weak need not apply.

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And I made it 14 miles. That’s not counting the 3/4 of a mile I pushed my blown up bike!
Yes, I do my own maintenance…. And this seizure could have easily been avoided if I had called JD Jetting. But noooo, I’m smarter than that. Now I have a new piston to buy and a top end to rebuild. IF I’m lucky and didn’t scar the expensive plated cylinder.
Aww hell, I knew better too. Cold temperatures are tough on two strokes and a small bike pulling a fat guy across a field can only take so much. But it was really running good right up until it became one solid piece….

That melding of piston and cylinder happens fast too, one instant I’m flying the next I’m sliding side to side in silence.  You grab the clutch and start coasting to a stop.  Look, a house i’ts only about a mile away and slightly up hill….

I pushed and pushed, it was too cold just to sit there in the wind and wait for the sweep crew.  I pushed about 1/2 a mile when I saw the pick up truck from the house pulling out of the drive.  He was headed towards me!   Turns out he had seen me coming out of the window and figured he’d come help since I was obviously aimed for his door be!   He knew all about bikes and took me right back to headquarters.

Now I just had to endure a few hours of explaining why I was so stupid to blow up my own bike.  Every one seems to have advice, after the fact…  God that makes for a long afternoon….

We had a group of seven, 5 exotic European race bikes, a Honda and the least likely to succeed, a Suzuki 400 street version.   All the fancy racing bikes failed to finish and the champ of our group?  Yep, the Suzuki street bike..

One rider got hopelessly stuck .7 miles from the start, that’s about a minute of riding.  He was stuck up to the muffler and I tried to help, but two of us could not budge the bike and eventually it took one of those giant ATVs to pull it out, 38 minutes later.

Another racing hybrid just quit, mine blew up, another had the chain guide fall off and wrapped the chain all up in a knot.  The Honda rider went for help and that left the Suzuki to win.

I have no idea who won the event as we left ASAP after all the broken bikes were loaded back in the trailer.  We did have a really good time, every one in our group was a comedian and laughs were more common than trophies.

Check at www.ridersmc.com for the results, but be careful, there are two ridersmc and one of them is a gay street bike club, that is NOT where we were last weekend.

C

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