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Into the Ozarks

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Somewhere on Arkansas 5

After a couple of days of heavy rain I was ready to get back in the saddle.

I headed north on Arkansas 5, a route that is rated highly in the official state motorcycling guidebook. The road didn’t disappoint as it presses into the Ozarks with abundant curves and gently rolling hills. At the town of Heber Springs of few of those hills were almost scary.

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The dam at Greers Ferry. An Army Corps of Engineers flood control project, it totally transformed the area.

I was loosely following the Pinnacle Mountain/Greers Ferry Loop, so I cut back west on Arkansas 92, another good run of pavement. At the town of Greers Ferry I picked up Arkansas 16 and all I can say is whoa! For the next 21 miles it was ear-popping elevation changes and challenging curves as I followed a ribbon of freshly laid asphalt. When the route linked up with U.S. 65 in Clinton I seriously considered turning around running it again. The experience was unlike anything in my home of Beautiful Northwest Indiana where we count potholes per yard rather than curves per mile.

South of Clinton, Arkansas 9 looked interesting so I varied from the guidebook, and while not as intense as what I’d just ridden, it was by no means a disappointment. I look forward to picking it up again when I head out for today’s ride into the Ouachitas. If the weather forecast is correct, tonight I’ll be camping under a cloudless sky just east of the Oklahoma border.

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Militias and the Second Amendment

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To celebrate the end of a successful spring semester at PNC I present the term paper from my Revolutionary War class, a subject  I am extremely passionate about.

 

Militias and the Second Amendment

 

A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.

The Second Amendment to the United States Constitution, twenty seven words whose meaning is argued on a daily basis. The opening clause routinely generates the most fervent discussion. It is interesting to examine just what a militia was in the 18th century and why the founders linked the people’s right to possess and use deadly implements to that institution’s reason for existence.

The prime impetus of the American Revolution was Massachusetts Governor General Thomas Gage’s proclamation of June 19, 1775 that required to colonists surrender their arms and ammunition. True, the conflict had been brewing for decades with the colonials harboring a plethora of grievances, but Gage’s march on Lexington and Concord to confiscate a cache of this vital property was the last straw. Citizen soldiers quickly assembled, literally coming out the woods and fields to harass the British. These were the opening actions of the Revolution and relied wholly on New England militia with Massachusetts providing the lion’s share of the troops.1

As these skirmishes predated the Continental Army’s creation by several months, arms carried by the militiamen did not come from central colonial stores as they did not exist. At the time, the fledgling Continental Congress possessed neither the financial resources nor had an effective overall military control structure in place.2

Militias, however, were well-established in the colonies. In the case of Massachusetts, every man capable of bearing arms and so enrolled was required to furnish his own musket, ammunition and other accouterments as part of his duty per a law dating to 1645. The obligation also entailed drilling twice per year.3 This colonial era enactment doubtless approved by the governor, came during the period characterized by salutary neglect, that is, the colonies conducted business largely free of interference from London. The primary function of the militia during this period was to repel Indian attacks. Harassing and embarrassing the parent nation’s armed forces was probably the last thing on the minds of the governor, parliament or the king when they offered their tacit approval.

Lexington and Concord also saw men who fell outside the parameters of militia service due to advanced age but nevertheless put their privately owned arms to good effect. Historian Clayton E Cramer in Armed America relates the story of one such man. “Samuel Whittemore, age eighty years upon seeing British soldiers marching towards Concorde, prepared by oiling his musket and pistols and sharpening his sword.” Cramer continues the narrative:

Whittemore had posted himself behind a stone wall, down Mystic Street about four hundred and fifty feet . . . . The distance seemed an easy range for him, and he opened fire, killing the soldier he aimed at. They must have discovered his hiding place from the smoke-puff, and hastened to close in on him. With one pistol he killed the second Briton, and with his other fatally wounded a third one. In the meantime, the ever vigilant flank guard were attracted to the contest, and a ball from one of their muskets struck his head and rendered him unconscious. They rushed to the spot, and clubbed him with their muskets and pierced him with their bayonets until they felt sure he was dead . . . . Whittemore lived eighteen more years, dying in 1793 at the age of ninety-eight.4

Aside from being a tough individual and patriot, not to mention an excellent shot, Mr. Whittemore’s contribution to the revolution serves to illustrate the risks a government gone tyrannical faces from an armed population. This in a nutshell is why the British, much the same as any other authoritarian regime throughout history has desired disarmed subjects.

The Battle of Bunker Hill, actually fought on Breed’s Hill was another early action, one that solidified the idea that the Americans might have a chance against the mightiest empire in the world. News that “[a] force of farmers and townsmen fresh from their fields and shops, with hardly a semblance of orthodox military organization, had met and fought on equal terms with a professional British Army” was not lost on London.5

At the same time the Continental Congress recognized that if a military challenge were to succeed, much work would be necessary on the organizational and equipment levels. Something more specialized than what the British derisively referred to the militia as “rabble in arms” would be required.6 Still, the paramilitary’s contribution to the cause of independence was far from over. As for creation of the professional force deemed an exigent, it would cause a great deal of debate since it smacked of the hated standing army.

The militia, even considering the above noted successes, is often given a short shrift by modern politicians seeking to minimize their contributions to the Revolution. Much of the rhetoric is designed to support a particular agenda by confusing a population whose knowledge of firearms is limited to what they see courtesy of Hollywood. Many of these individuals who have never so much as touched a real gun are also indoctrinated with an irrational fear of them.

Modern obfuscations notwithstanding, there were real problems in the areas of fitness for duty and duration of commitment as far as the18th century militia was concerned. Often these deficiencies stemmed from lack of leadership, along with the very nature of a part-time volunteer force that had to deal with practical issues such as running a family farm or business. These realities were of no consequence to professionals paid to fight; it was their occupation. The militias for their part were noted to fight fiercely when called to defend home territory, then as quickly as they appeared, melt back into the woods. Conversely, at times, they often fled after only a token resistance was put forth.

Brigadier General Daniel Morgan, a rough-hewed frontiersman himself, was one commander who recognized the unique strengths of the militia. At the same time, he knew intuitively how to turn their perceived weaknesses into a tactical asset. The Battle of Cowpens fought on January 17, 1781 stands testimony to his masterful melding of the two. There, in contrast to General Horatio Gate’s blunder at Camden, South Carolina of placing his militia opposite of Lord Charles Cornwallis’ crack troops, Morgan purposely employed his militia at the front line, albeit to achieve a different objective. There, they fired two volleys as ordered and fell to the rear. British commander Banastre Tarleton took the bait and believed another business-as-usual rout was about to take place. To his shock, he then faced Continental Regulars who were waiting just out of view. On this occasion, however, the militia did not simply break and run. Instead, they followed orders and hid behind a hill, just to the rear. From this protected position they put their accurate rifles to deadly effect picking off the dazed and confused British forces.7

The militia that helped carry the day at Cowpens bore a unique name: Georgia and North Carolina Riflemen. They were so-called because of their arms: the rifled musket, the most accurate, longest range weapon of the day. While somewhat slower to load than the common smooth-bore, in skilled hands this deficiency was more than made up for by deadly accuracy. The rifles for all intents and purposes were equal to, or in many cases, superior to what the regulars of both armies were issued. And while such advanced arms were certainly useful in the procurement of game, the term “sporting purposes” was not in the American lexicon. Lead and powder were expensive and precious. As a rule, shots were not fired except with a specific purpose, whether defense of oneself, neighbors, or to procure food. Firearms were tools, nothing more, nothing less. These were universally understood 18th century concepts.

While possessing up-to-date personal firearms, what the militiamen at Bunker Hill, and Cowpens lacked most in the way of equipment was bayonets.8 This deficiency was not in response to any law prohibiting these militarily useful accessories. To the contrary, day-to-day application of firearms simply did not involve European style bayonet charges. This lack of cold steel however, was a major problem when facing formations of British regulars. Conversely, it was of little consequence when executing the hit and run guerrilla tactics American irregulars favored.

The bayonet, largely superfluous on faster-to-load modern arms played an important role in the foundation of America. It is interesting that well-intentioned, though misguided attempts at weapons regulation such as President Bill Clinton’s Assault Weapons Ban of 1994 targeted what are now viewed as cosmetic features such as pistol grips and bayonet lugs. One has to wonder how our forefathers might view such developments. Would they detect a hint of tyranny in such initiatives?

The Revolutionary War went on for eight bloody years. In the end it was the sacrifice of an inferior, but tenacious indigenous force that carried the day, wearing down not only the British military, but general public as well. True, the financial contributions of France and Spain in what became a world war certainly helped turn the tide; without the French naval presence in particular there would be no America. But the French also supplied desperately needed muskets and ammunition. It is one thing to control the seas, something the British were undisputed masters at, but at the same time, a ground presence is necessary to claim true dominance over a particular piece of real estate. In this the Continental Army and supporting militia proved this maxim true time and again.

When the time came to construct a government not seen in the annals of human history, another protracted battle was waged. In this one though, words replaced bullets. Once the basic constitution was devised, there was still the matter of securing the states blessing through ratification. The key to obtaining this support hinged on the inclusion of a bill of rights to protect the people. These same people had just lived through a revolution and had strongly held views as to what should be contained in the document. It is little wonder that the opening text of this paper, The Second Amendment, was at the forefront of their thinking.

At this early stage of the republic a standing army was repugnant to many Americans, nevertheless, it was recognized that if the United States was to succeed as a nation, and perhaps become a world power, a way to organize the well-armed population was vital. At the same time the resulting force would provide an important check and balance and allay fears of a professional army that was seen as increasingly necessary.

James Madison, champion of a strong central government nevertheless recognized the inherent danger it posed. Historian Clayton E. Cramer notes: “In ‘Federalist 46’ James Madison pointed to the enormous numerical advantage that ‘a militia amounting to near a half million citizens with arms in their hands’ would have over any imaginable standing army.” 9As Madison fought to see his creation of a new style government survive, he extolled the virtues of an armed citizenry as a check on the tyranny such a powerful entity might fall into. It should be remembered that during the Revolution the Continental Army rarely exceeded 10,000 men, so his hypothetical citizen force would have proved formidable.

This theme of an armed citizenry being a bulwark of liberty can be seen in legislation created shortly after ratification of the Constitution and Bill of Rights. Recognizing the contributions of citizen soldiers, while at the same time seeking to address some of the shortcomings created by relying on a volunteer force, Congress ratified The United States’ Militia Act of 1792 on May 2 of the same year. This law spelled out the terms of a well regulated militia and authorized the president to call the militias into Federal service “. . . whenever the United States shall be invaded, or be in imminent danger of invasion from and foreign nation or Indian tribe.” It further provided for a command structure and laid out rules for discipline, pay while called up, and term of service.10

The Second Militia Act of 1792, approved on May 8, delved into great detail as to the composition of the militia: “That each and every free able-bodied white male citizen of the respective states, resident therein, who is or shall be of the age of eighteen years and under the age of forty-five years . . . shall be severally and respectively enrolled in the militia . . .” Of particular interest is what these registered members were to procure to fulfill their obligation: “That every citizen so enrolled and notified, shall within six months thereafter, provide himself with a good musket or firelock, a sufficient bayonet and belt, two spare flints, and a knapsack, shot-pouch with a box therein to contain not less than twenty-four cartridges, suited to the bore of his musket or firelock, each cartridge to contain a proper quantity of powder and ball . . . .” Additionally, officers were required to provide for themselves a sword and attending accouterments. Giving a nod to greater uniformity, hence regulated, “. . . after five years from the passing of this act, all muskets for arming the militia, as herein required, shall be of bores sufficient for balls of the eighteenth part of a pound.”11

It should be noted that every piece of equipment mandated by the Act was standard kit of an 18th century soldier. The objective was to have a force ready to respond to imminent threats, but without the attending risks to liberty a professional army entailed. To the founders, the militia was meant to be a fully militarized force, albeit one where the participants were responsible for providing their own personal weapons and gear.

As the United States grew into a world power during the nineteenth century, the reliance on a part-time citizen-based military was supplanted by full-time professional forces. The militia concept though, was still viewed favorably at the dawn of the twentieth century, enough so that The Militia Act of 1903 was ratified. Sec.1 of this law affirms the manning requirements contained in the eighteenth century rendition, with the notable exclusion of the words “free able-bodied white male.” For the purposes of our discussion, however, it is the distinction made in militia categories which: . . . shall be divided into two classes-the organized militia, to be known as the National Guard of the State, Territory, or District of Columbia, . . . and the remainder to be known as the Reserve Militia.” The law goes into great detail as to how the National Guard was to be organized and equipped, with the firearms to be provided by the Federal government. The law also explicitly declares who controls the same: “That said rifles and carbines and other property shall be receipted for and shall remain the property of the United States . . . .”12

One might wonder how James Madison’s check on tyranny “. . . a militia amounting to near a half million citizens with arms in their hands’ would have over any imaginable standing army,” would be of much effect sans firearms. As the 1903 Act is silent as to how the second component, the Reserve Militia is to be armed, one could conclude that, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed has it covered.

Much of the aforementioned discussions were rendered moot in 2008 when the Supreme Court issued its historical Heller decision.13 In this ruling the court held that Americans have a fundamental right to own guns. There were, of course, caveats excluding criminals, the insane and other prohibited persons, but interestingly, no militia test. The concept of an armed citizenry was expanded in 2010 with the McDonald decision.14 This ruling incorporated the Second Amendment to a state and local level through the Fourteenth Amendment. Lest anyone get the impression the dispute over gun rights was settled once and for all, nothing could be further from the truth. As with protecting other civil rights, the battle rages on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bibliography

 

Primary sources:

 

Heller Decision

SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA ET AL. v. HELLER CERTIORARI TO THE UNITED STATES COURT OF APPEALS FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA CIRCUIT

No. 07–290. Argued March 18, 2008—Decided June 26, 2008.

 

McDonald Decision

 

SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES MCDONALD ET AL. v. CITY OF CHICAGO, ILLINOIS, ET AL. CERTIORARI TO THE UNITED STATES COURT OF APPEALS FOR THE SEVENTH CIRCUIT

No. 08–1521. Argued March 2, 2010—Decided June 28, 2010.

 

Militia Act of 1792

SECOND CONGRESS. SEss. I. CH. 28. 1792. CHAP. XXVIII.-An Act to provide for calling forth the Militia to execute the laws of the Union, suppress insurrections and repel invasions. STATUTE I. May 2, 1792.

 

Second Militia Act of 1792

 

SECOND CONGRESS. SEss. I. CH. 33. 1792. CHAP. XXXIlI.-An Act more effectually to provide for the National Defence by establishing an Unifurm Militia throughout the United States.(a) STATUTE I. May 8, 1792.

 

Militia Act of 1903

 

FIFTY-SEVENTH CONGRESS. SEss. II. 1903. An Act to promote the efficiency of the militia, and for other purposes. Approved January 21, 1903.

 

Secondary sources:

 

Coakley, Robert W. and Conn, Stetson eds., The War of the American Revolution Washington,    DC: Center of Military History, U.S. Army, 1975.

 

Cramer, Clayton E. Armed America: The Story of How and Why Guns Became as American As    Apple Pie, Nashville: Nelson Current, 2006.

Hallbrook, Stephen P. The Founders’ Second Amendment: Origins of the Right to Bear Arms,       Chicago: Ivan R. Dee, 2008.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Notes

 

  1. Robert W. Coakley and Stetson Conn, eds., The War of the American Revolution Washington, DC: Center of Military History, U.S. Army, 1975,

 

  1. , 5.
  2. Stephen P. Hallbrook, The Founders’ Second Amendment: Origins of the Right to Bear Arms, Chicago: Ivan R. Dee, 2008, 11.

 

  1. Clayton E. Cramer, Armed America: The Story of How and Why Guns Became as American As Apple Pie, Nashville: Nelson Current, 2006, 99.

 

  1. Robert W. Coakley and Stetson Conn, eds., The War of the American Revolution,
  2. , 6.
  3. , 22-23.
  4. , 6.
  5. Cramer, Armed America, 6.
  6. SECOND CONGRESS. SEss. I. CH. 28. 1792. CHAP. -An Act to provide for calling forth the Militia to execute the laws of the Union, suppress insurrections and repel invasions. STATUTE I. May2, 1792.

 

  1. SECOND CONGRESS. SEss. I. CH. 33. 1792. XXXIlI.-An Act more effectually to provide for the National Defence by establishing an Unifurm Militia throughout the United States.(a) STATUTE I. May 8, 1792.

 

  1. FIFTY-SEVENTH CONGRESS. SEss. II. 2003. An Act to promote the efficiency of the militia, and for other purposes. Approved January 21, 1903.

 

  1. Supreme Court of the United States, District of Columbia, Et. Al. v .Heller, 2008.
  2. Supreme Court of the United States, McDonald, Et. Al. v .Chicago, 2010.
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Link to my Rider Magazine story, “Tiddler Run.”

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Click here for my  story Tiddler Run that ran in the November 2014 issue of Rider. It was part of a feature called Vintage Variety. I’m grateful to Editor Tuttle for running a few of my pieces. He publishes the best bike book out there! And thanks to the guys at the airport, a  bunch of hard-core bike lovers if there ever was one!067

 

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Beware the craters of beautiful NWI!

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KABOOM!
What was . . . man . . . what did I just hit? 
The V-Strom bucked and jumped like a wild horse, but somehow I kept it upright. I wheeled into a convenient parking lot and ran my hand around the front rim. No obvious dents and the tire was holding air. Maybe I got lucky. I walked a short distance up the road, expecting to find a rusted out muffler, or maybe a piece of lumber. It was neither. What I hit was a piece of the road itself. The brutal Northwest Indiana winter had claimed another victim. 
The crater on the ironically named Sturdy Road was a few feet long, and growing. The chunk was roughly eighteen by twelve by three inches and weighed about fifty pounds. I disgustedly heaved it onto the shoulder, making a mental note to take a picture in the morning. The morning, ah yes, I was scheduled to head out on a road trip to Missouri, Arkansas, Oklahoma, and ultimately, Kansas. 
Riding a compromised machine on an extended tour is never a good plan. Luckily, the Strom’s brother bike, a Bandit 1250 sat ready to serve. The luggage was quickly swapped and duffel transferred. Actually, the GIVI hard bags and trunk were purchased with the big Bandit and adapted to the Strom. Both bikes are 2007 vintage and carried me to Alaska, the Strom having an edge in comfort and fuel range. It has been my primary long-distance mount since I picked it up as a non-current model on New Year’s Eve 2011.
Other than a brutal west wind on I-57, the ride to Fort Leonard Wood Missouri was uneventful. Increasingly though, I noticed sloppy shifting as I pulled away from gas stops. A quick check of the chain revealed it to be drooping like soggy spaghetti.  Not wanting to push my luck, I decided to make the run to Kansas City where I was to see my newest granddaughter. A visit to Amazon.com had a new DID X-ring chain and sprockets waiting when I arrived. The ride through southern Missouri on pot-hole free Route 7 was a joy. I highly recommend the road and will be doing a story on it that I hope will run as a favorite ride in Rider Magazine. 

definitely shot!
I swapped the drive train in my daughter’s driveway with the tools I carried, along with a torque wrench and 32mm socket courtesy of O’ Riley Auto Parts. They offer select tools for loan with an appropriate deposit. A sweet deal! Arkansas was still on the table at this point. That is until I pulled a nail out of the rear Michelin a couple of days later. Argh! This was quickly repaired with my Aerostich plug kit and Slime pump, both of which I never leave home without. A Michelin Pilot Road Four was eventually located at Shawnee Cycle Plaza, a great shop. The tire was exactly what I wanted. This is a huge deal. In the past, I’ve made due with whatever was in stock, typically track-spec rubber that wore out before hitting the state line.  
 Time was running short so I pointed the Bandit’s front wheel northeast. The potholes were still there when I crossed the back into beautiful Northwest Indiana. Actually, Illinois has a good crop of its own. Oh, and as for the Strom. Both rims are bent. My comprehensive coverage will take some of the sting out of the bill, but I could definitely get used to riding where the road isn’t ready to swallow the bike at any instant.

Missouri Route 7

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save the trees and a little piece of dirt

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Lest everyone think I’ve been a slug over winter break, I thought I’d better offer a reason for not posting. Since fall classes ended, I’ve been heavy into my spring directed writing class project. It will certainly carry on through the summer and possibly the fall as well. I’ll have to put together a post on what I’m up to soon. But for now, here are a couple of my previous blogs that I combined into my third writing project during the fall semester. What seemed like an easy task turned out to be a lot more complicated than I ever imagined. Both pieces are on writers I admire and have influenced me. I hope you enjoy them.


                                                                     
                                         Save the Trees

I wish I was a faster typist. No, scratch that. What I’d really like to do is actually type. I perform a poor imitation. During the 1970s while serving a four year sentence at Valparaiso High School, my guidance counselor tried repeatedly to get me into typing class. That was what they called it then. They used real typewriters. I always begged off, as it didn’t seem like a “manly” activity. My logic, quite flawed as it turns out, was if I need a typist, I’ll hire one. Well I’m paying for it now.
The word processor is a wonderful innovation. Without it, I’d be responsible for the decimation an entire forests. I’d also need barrels of white-out. But even this crutch has its limitations. Until recently, my brain and fingers pounded the keyboard in sort of a mutual harmony. The thoughts didn’t overwhelm the digits. But now the ideas are coming in frenzy and my clumsy fingers struggle to keep up. And I get frustrated. An aspiring writer should know how to type. A few years ago I took a keyboarding class at the career center at work. The program was called Mavis-Beacon. The contortions required to mimic the virtual keyboard prompts were unnatural and uncomfortable. I’d have had much less trouble when my fingers and mind were more pliable. Like when I was in high school.
Mechanical issues aside, I prefer a creative nonfiction style based on actual events from a first-person perspective. I say based, because to me truth, rather than the straight relating of fact is more important. Jack Kerouac, whose work has been an inspiration, popularized a technique that involved the fictionalization of real events. This is something I’ve also played with. Kerouac incidentally, was a lightning fast typist. His best seller, On the Road: the Original Scroll was fired off during a three-week marathon session. His canvas was a taped together 120-foot-long “scroll” of typing paper.
 Kerouac also turned out some fine nonfiction. His tale Lonesome Traveler: Alone on a Mountaintop, relates of working as a firewatcher in the Cascade Mountains. A favorite of mine, the piece chronicles his manning of an isolated mountaintop outpost. Having once visited a fire watch installation in the Ouachita Mountains of Arkansas, I have no problem relating to how the experience must have felt. The firewatcher’s main responsibility, I was told by the tour guide, involved scanning for forest fires from the 100 foot-tall steel tower. The coordinates would then be radioed to dispatch for appropriate action. Fires often emanate from lightning strikes. The prospect of becoming a human lightning rod isn’t too appealing for most people.  Writing being the solitary endeavor it is along with the lure of ample time to read, must have made the risk one worth taking for Kerouac. Nowadays, satellites do the watching; not nearly as romantic, but much safer.

            As for gathering material, I favor living it, then telling it. Kerouac spent years on the road, something I’d love to do. But for the time being, I’ll be lucky to scrape together a couple months away. Some observers credit chemical over-indulgences that snuffed Jack’s life at age forty-nine as the basis of his creativity. I often ponder the question, but nevertheless don’t plan to take that particular path. After all, successful as he was, he’s still dead. And I definitely won’t attempt to mimic his use of the scroll. I’ll just stick with the word processor and save some trees.
                                                           
A Little Piece of Dirt
Recently, I reread Hunter Thompson’s breakout best-seller, Hell’s Angels. The story centers on his experiences as he rode and partied with the notorious Southern California 1% Club. In the end, he barely escaped with his life after suffering a severe beating know in Angel vernacular as a “stomping.” The reason is lost to time, but may have had to do with the sharing of potential book profits.  The Angels felt, and not without justification, that there would be no story without them. Beware when your subject matter includes outlaw biker gangs; they play by their own rules. Normal people would have just hired a lawyer. Subject compensation however, is something a writer needs to think about. It will doubtless come up in a project I’m currently contemplating. Lucky for me though, a stomping shouldn’t be part of the payback.
Thompson was gifted with a brilliant mind and vivid imagination. An incredibly caustic wit was part of the package. He was also eccentric and controversial.  He helped popularize the sixties’ innovation of new journalism, a deviation from the simple straight reporting of facts. HST’s version was dubbed Gonzo, in which he became a central character and integral part of the narrative. The impetus was the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago. Thompson was in town as a news correspondent. Riots ensued and he discovered much to his shock, the press credentials he carried provided little protection. He was soon swept into melee and became part of his own story courtesy of a Chicago Police Department night stick.
Thompson’s commentary on life and politics in America is still remarkably fresh and relevant. But what fascinates me most is our common interests. Hunter, for example, was a gun enthusiast and devout 2nd Amendment advocate. He had an extensive collection of firearms that he loved to practice with at his Colorado estate, Owl Farm. This property was purchased in part with the advance from Hell’s Angels. The down payment was $10,000; chump change now, was big money in 1968. There he also engaged in another of my passions, riding dirt bikes. He didn’t buy quite enough land though, since later in life numerous complaints were lodged about his bizarre antics, such as blazing away with various weapons into the wee hours. In the end, the Aspen area where he lived saw the millionaires pushed out by the billionaires. 
Thompson’s career accomplishments included twelve books, many of which were best-sellers, along with hundreds of magazine articles. Many of these were commissioned by Rolling Stone. He also did a piece for Cycle World Magazine. That same publication presented me with my first rejection slip. To reel Hunter in, the editor enticed him with a brand new Ducati to review. I should be so lucky. Hunter being Hunter, the resulting story, Song of the Sausage Creature had to be cleaned up so as to be presentable in a family format. Many authors look down their noses at the literary relevance of magazine articles, but I disagree. They are a good foundation and venue for floating ideas that may one day grow into larger works. I think Hunter would concur.
Thompson had trouble separating the wild and crazy in-print persona he had created from the real-life one. They increasingly became one and the same.  Like Jack Kerouac, he was tormented by substance-fueled demons. They killed him in in the form of a self-inflicted bullet to-the-head at 67-years-old. Chalk up another victory for drugs and alcohol.
A life-long dream of mine is to own property where I can do much the same as Hunter, that is ride dirt bikes and shoot guns. Presently, I don’t have a big advance to back me up, or even a little one.  But I am heartened by Rider Magazine’s purchase and publication of three of my stories.  I hope to cultivate a long-term relationship with them. And maybe if I keep at it, I can one day move onto bigger things and earn enough to buy my own little piece of dirt.
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Rider Magazine links

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I’ve had a bit of luck in the writing game. Five of my stories have been accepted for publication by Rider Magazine. Three are presented here. The first two were based on my 2011 Alaska ride. Adventure on the Alcan: From Dawson Creek to Delta Junction and Beyond, centers on the Alaska Highway portion. It ran in October 2013. The Haul Road: Taming Alaska’s Dalton Highway covers the Arctic portion. It ran in the April 2012 issue. Windblown Amy: Artist Rider Survivor is the third piece. It is a story I wanted to write ever since my first Alaska ride but didn’t feel I had the skill to do justice to until now. It centers on a remarkable female rider I met on the road to Alaska. Bleeding Kansas and The Tiddler Run are slated for future publication. I’ll post an update when they run.

Writing is a solitary endeavor. Still, numerous people have helped along the way. Rider Editor-in-Chief Mark Tuttle gave me a big break. I also want to thank the Modern Language Department at Purdue North Central, particularly my professors Sarah White and Jerry Holt. I wouldn’t have gotten this far without them.

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girls and guns

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In contrast to my life-long love of motorcycles, I didn’t become interested in firearms until I was in my twenties, about the same time we started a family. As our four daughters became more inquisitive my wife insisted I secure the guns. This was accomplished with a safe. We also decided it would be good to familiarize them with firearms. After all, there are millions of them in America. 
The way I went about this was to make it into sort of a Daddy/Daughter date, but with gunpowder standing in for the flowers. When each of them turned seven we went for breakfast, after which we stopped at a nearby indoor shooting range for a some paper punching with a Marlin Little Buckaroo .22 rifle. Later, we took trips to an outdoor range and shot objects such as plywood. The lesson being if the bullet will penetrate wood, it will also put a hole in a person. Of course, on each trip we stressed the rules of safe gun handling.023
 Another important consideration was removing the lure of forbidden fruit. Our youngest constantly asked to handle the guns. I always tried to accommodate, showing her how to check and clear them each time. We never had a problem with unauthorized usage. Today, she is a career Army officer and still likes to shoot for recreation. Her sisters don’t currently have a strong interest in guns, but are glad they experienced them as kids. I’m looking forward to carrying on the tradition with my grandchildren. After all, there are a bunch of guns in the good old USA. 012
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They only come out at night.

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fxstc-2526-me-3  Sorry I haven’t posted for a while, I’ve been very busy at school. Anyway, here’s a little story I put together for my English fiction class. Its based on a picture from The People of Walmart site. I think we’ve all been there. Check it out.
                            They only come out at night.                                                         
                                                           
Halloween is over, yet they dress up just the same. Spiked hair, piercings, fish-net stockings and black leather abound. The midnight hour approaches. They’re herded to center aisle. Self-serve registers look tempting. The automated voice: please swipe your purchase and deposit payment, drones on and on. But without fail, they take longer than the flesh-and-blood type.  I fall in behind a guy waiting to pay for five gallons of tea. He’s wearing a pink kilt. No one else seems to notice. A robust young female cuts in front of kilt guy; he’s in a daze and doesn’t seem to care. But, she’s hard to ignore: thigh-high boots; lace camisole barely concealing a camouflage sport bra; semi-sheer short-shorts do their best to reel in a purple thong. They’re losing the fight. Elvis it seems, is also alive and well. He makes a weekly appearance to reward the faithful with a glimpse of royalty. Turns out he lives at the old folks’ home up the road, not Graceland; thank you very much. The line inches forward. A gum chewing cashier takes kilt guy’s money.
“NEXT.”
Startled. “Who me?”
“Yeah you, biker dude, nice costume, welcome to Walmart.”
Hmmm, black leather jacket, black jeans, black boots, black tee shirt. Maybe I’m a Wal-martian too!
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The Bandit and Strom on the Alaska Highway

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My newly acquired V-Strom 1000 meets my 1250 Bandit, New Year’s Day, 2011

Ever since I returned from my second Alaska ride last July, I’ve wanted to post a few thoughts on the two bikes that carried me there.  For those just tuning in, both were 2007 Suzuki’s that I purchased new. A Bandit 1250 was my mount in 2008. And a non-current model V-Strom 1000 was used on the most recent ride, one that took me all the way to Prudhoe Bay. Obviously both traversed the length of the Alaska Highway and back, and crossed the vast prairie lands of Western Canada in the process.

The Alaska Highway, July, 2008

Both machines were totally reliable, with a minor electrical glitch on the Bandit taken care of under warranty being the only issue. As I’ve stated on this blog before, the Bandit’s inline-four is superior in power. The Strom’s 90 degree v-twin just can’t match the four’s wide power band and low end grunt. The Bandit will easily lug down to 2500 RPM in 6th, whereas anything under 3000 RPM or around 60 mph has the Strom asking for a downshift.

The Alaska Highway, July, 2011
 As a practical matter, there was nothing on the ride the Strom’s motor couldn’t handle. Both bikes knock down mileage in the low forties, with the Strom having a slight advantage of a couple MPG. Combining that with its 5.8 gallon, versus the Bandit’s 5.0 capacity gives it an edge in range, around 240 to 200. But since the longest stretch on the Alaska Highway without services is about 120 miles, neither bike had me worried about having to push them. The Dalton Highway is another story. From Coldfoot to Prudhoe Bay it is 240 long, lonely miles with no services whatsoever. The Strom made on one tank, but literally on fumes; it died in the parking lot of the Arctic Caribou Inn. I did not ride the Bandit that far north, but extra fuel would have been mandatory if it were to go the distance. And I did carry an extra gallon on the Strom for insurance.

Arctic Caribou Inn, Prudhoe Bay Alaska, July 2011
Comfort wise, the Strom’s larger fairing, upright riding posture and better saddle made the five to six hundred mile days much more pleasant than on the Bandit. In fact, the latest ride’s final day tally of 1400 miles in 28 hours probably wouldn’t have been possible other wise. Both bikes carried the same set of Givi luggage: PLX 35 side cases and 46 liter top box. Even loaded with a large amount of gear both bikes were completely stable, even on the worst frost heaves in the Yukon.
To expound a bit on the subject of handling; even though equipped with  budget suspension components, both machines were solid performers. One particular hundred-mile stretch of the Alaska Highway stands out. Loaded with twists and turns, the road gives the suspension, tires and brakes a thorough workout. Both bikes stuck to the pavement and were an absolute blast!  For the record, the Strom was shod with Bridgestone Trailwings, and the Bandit rode on Avon Storm AV 46 Azaros. Each set of rubber did the job, however the rear tires were in need of replacement far sooner than normal. The roads of the north eat rubber. For the Dalton Highway, I had a set of Continental TCK 80s installed in Fairbanks. I am sure that they were largely responsible for my surviving the muddy conditions I encountered there.

Atigun Pass on the Dalton Highway July, 2011
The pair still reside in my garage, and I don’t plan on selling either one! The Bandit is now used for short hops, and the Strom will be my serious travelling machine. This is mostly due to its superior level of comfort. As an aside, this was not my last ride to Alaska. The next trip will center on  the western side of the Rockies, and take me to Hyder Alaska. From there I’ll head for Haines Junction , home of the Village Bakery, the best in the Yukon, as I work my way to Haines Alaska for a  ferry ride south.

Eventually, I would  like to ride the Canol Road and the Demster Highway, both of which terminate in the Northwest Territories. And maybe even take another crack at the Dalton. However, my experiences on that road have convinced me that nothing larger than an 800 should be ridden, as a lighter bike would be of great value. The newly revised V-Strom looks interesting, but as a 650 I don’t think the power output will match the still substantial weight. It is after all based on the ten-year-old 1000. Hopefully in the next few years Suzuki will come out with a truly new adventure–tourer. I have been a big fan of their machines since my teen years on a TS-90 Honcho and TS and TM 125s. I would like to continue the tradition.
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Alaska Ride 2011: keep pushin on

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Okay, one more song title. Thanks to REO Speedwagon for capturing the moment.

I called a friend tonight who has been following the blog closely. He said I kind of left everyone hanging with the last post, and  until my call, didn’t know if I’d made it back or not.Well, I’m here safe and sound in Valparaiso Indiana, a place scorched by the heat wave that I avoided  for almost three weeks.Sorry for the lapse, but the last day covered 1400 miles, in around 28 hours. When I got home, I petted the dog, hugged my wife, peeled my riding suit off to my bicycle shorts, lay down on the garage floor and promptly fell asleep.

My last post left off in Saskatoon SK, about 300 miles from the border. I headed south in cool temperatures, but with a vicious wind from the west flanking me for the better part of 600 miles until I pointed the Strom east on I-94.

My desired crossing point of Portal ND was inaccessible due to flooding; a sign advised of a detour to Raymond MT,an extra  100 miles  to the west.Not good. I enquired at a gas station and learned the Port of Oungre while not a 24 hour facility, was only an extra 40 or so miles out of the way. As I rode south, I was struck by what appeared to be small lakes, complete with white-caps , but were in reality, flooded fields. The border post, is situated in some of the bleakest landscape this side of the moon imaginable. There was literally nothing for 50 miles, and even with my extra fuel, and the Strom’s good range, I was glad I filled up in Canada.

The ride through North Dakota, revealed the devastation from the flooding that dogged me on the way up, and more recent examples.I even heard that I-94 had been reduced to one lane in the area of Bismark.

One of my most fervent desires was to avoid Minnesota during high traffic hours. This was due to my miserable ride through the state on day one.To that end I decided to ride all night. Once again, like a bad dream, I was greeted by signs that alerted the rest areas were closed. Funny, they closed the day I entered the state, and were reputed to open the day after I left. Maybe they just don’t like me. But whatever the case, the closure of important public assets, to make a political point is inexcusable;the money wasted on signs, barricades, and fencing could easily have kept them open, at least to a limited degree. These rest areas are vital to the safety of all travelers. And since they are on an interstate, they belong to all Americans.

At some point during the long night, I noticed that I was weaving badly, so at a gas stop, I found a dark corner  and caught 20 minutes of shut-eye. Revitalized by the bit of sleep, and driven by a burning desire to vacate the state, I pushed into Wisconsin. There at the first rest area, I took a proper nap on one of the fine benches provided.

Illinois, the land of toll-ways, was now all that stood in my way. My frequent breaks placed me around the dreaded O’Hare area mid-morning. Once again, the I-pass made short work of the run. This is one area Illinois excels; one literally can pass through the toll counters at full speed. Indiana among other states can learn from them on that score.In a losing argument with the Garmin, I found myself broiling on the Eisenhower, but since traffic was relatively light, (by Chicago standards) I was soon crossing the line into the Hoosier state.

Today’s activities consisted of sleep, and trying to get the rest of the Dalton off of the Strom.That task is proving to be difficult, and it won’t be soon  accomplished. The Dalton however will never be purged from my spirit.

The Strom, that a mere three weeks ago was  a bright and shiny, new steed, now has character. With just under 10,000 miles on the clock. The chain will need to be replaced, as will the rear disc, scored by the metal to metal contact.It is on it’s third set of rear pads.Chalk that up to the Dalton.  My boots and riding suit, also sparkling clean at the start of this adventure, now display the appearance of been dragged down a bad road for hundreds of miles.I am five pounds lighter, despite eating whatever was available, and not exercising for three weeks. That is, other than wrestling 600 plus pounds of machine down a rugged road.

So where does ridetowrite.com go from here?My plan is to evaluate the ride, bike, gear, and equipment and report what I have found.Also, I want to follow up with some of the interesting people I met on the road. And while I am no expert in motorcycle travel, I have done a bit of it. Enough to make a number of mistakes, and even some good calls. I will expand and evaluate for those who are interested, right here.And for all of you who rode along, thank you. It was great having you by my side.

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