Even without the planned meeting with the rmh folks, the trip was worth doing just to be able to sit there again and feel that peace...
And then there was work to do. Pooder and Judy showed up first to unload a car filled with stuff--both very warm, friendly people. The four of us unloaded the car and Pico helped himself to some cookies.
Then Pooder and Judy rode home on one bike to return on two, followed shortly after by the Illinois group--Stroker Ray, Cuda, Mike and Cowpoke Rick. I lost track of who arrived when after that. I was too busy meeting new people and hearing about their trips.
Judy and Pooder kept pretty busy in the kitchen. Those two work really well together and do prepare a great feast. Judy's ribs lived up to all I'd ever read...delicious!
By nightfall, John's driveway was full of bikes of various makes and models and his yard was dotted with tents. Along with Ed's impressive home-away-from-home trailer. Lady Dog had gone into hiding, and Pico was enjoying the attentions of all. (Along with the rib remains.) I'd met Ivan the Great--an honor in itself! I hadn't known he'd be there, so that meeting was unexpected.
I still hadn't matched all of the faces to names, but I'd managed to get to know a few. It was late by the time everyone had gone to their respective sleeping quarters. And the world was quiet once more.
I woke early Saturday morning and started the coffee. Looking out the kitchen window, I was surprised to see tent flaps being pushed back and still-sleepy bikers getting a very early start on a new day.
Pooder and Judy went right to work in the kitchen again--breakfast this time. Coffee was consumed faster than it could be made. Power failures in the kitchen added a challange for the chefs, but they persevered and everyone was fed.
In the meantime, there was a lineup at John's computer. Even away from home, some of us seem to *need* to keep that connection open!
Breakfast and kitchen cleanup taken care of, it was time to get ready for the Spam Run. Everyone was ready to roll by the time Davey D and Pat showed up to lead the procession.
I wasn't feeling well and opted to remain at the ranch, so I can't report on the the run or on the Spam Fest. I sat on the grass at the end of the driveway with Pico and we watched as one after another of the bikes departed. The sound was deafening, but it was wonderful to hear. After all had gone, Pico and I wandered back to the porch where we sat and listened until the world became suddenly silent once more. I spent the remainder of the day catching up on lost sleep, gathering wood for a bonfire, and visiting with Pico.
John called a few hours later, and I joined the group for dinner at The Black Horse--one of John's local haunts. There was a new face at the table with eyes that seemed always to be laughing. That face belongs to Bob Ruth. Bob is a great guy--the kind that you just know instinctively has a big heart and would help out anytime he could. I'm glad he stuck with RMH even after getting so thoroughly flamed when he first stumbled in.
Back atop the bluffs, the mesquitos were doing their best to create havoc in an otherwise wonderful evening. I insisted that we light the bonfire--even though the wood had gotten thoroughly soaked in a heavy rainfall earlier. Most seemed to have little faith in success and moved indoors. I can be pretty stubborn sometimes, and this was one of those times. I hadn't spent all of that time gathering wood just to give up without a fight. Ivan graciously stuck with it with me--I think more to humor me than for any believe he might have had in success. Even I have to admit that it looked like a lost cause until John came to the rescue with a can of diesel fuel.
And we had fire! We had a great fire. Well into the night, we sat around that fire--sharing interests, reflecting on good times with good friends, feeling at one with all that is good.
Eventually, even that near-perfect night closed and only the quiet sounds of nature remained.
Sunday morning...Pooder and Judy performed another breakfast miracle in the kitchen and all were once again fed. And then the packing began. And the picture taking. And the hesitant departures. By noon, there remained only two bikes--John's and mine. Pooder and Judy had taken their bikes home after the Spam run and had returned in their van. We reloaded that, shared leftovers for lunch and then went to the Winona Fly-in for a leisurely afternoon of strolling amongst an interesting assortment of planes, many of which were homebuilt.
Following more warm good-byes, Pooder and Judy left for home. John and I made our way back to the ranch and a peaceful evening of reflection.
Sixth lesson learned: RMH is about people--real people, good people. Motorcycling brings us together. Friendship keeps us that way.
It was a pleasure meeting all of you, and I'm honored to be a friend.
Skip the rest of the story and return home.
CLM -- 7/27/96; revised 2/21/98