A Word To The Wise (2004)

My husband bought a mini-bike for the boys a few years ago. Little 2 HP thing, and I made sure the boys always wore a helmet, and they enjoyed doing laps around our back yard (insert Mom's worried sigh here). The bike is used and old and after a few months it wouldn't run right anymore.

Uncle Pete came to town for a visit and the next thing you know, I've got a mini-monster garage going on out back (insert a Mom's classic eye roll here). They proceeded to remove the 2 horse power motor and replaced it with a 6 horse power motor (insert Uncle Pete's famous quote "It's for the children..." here). For the non-horse-power initiated, most go-carts run off of 4 horse power motors, so yes, this mini-bike is hell bent for disaster (insert Mom shaking her head here, going to check that the health insurance is all set).

Dave and the boys have been riding this thing around for weeks now - with the helmet, and with the knowledge that this mini-bike can go really fast. Jeff is pretty cautious on it, but Eric loves spinning the rear tire in the dirt as he is running his laps - and giggles the whole time (see the photo - Image_07).

Flash forward to last night. Dad just arrived in town with all of his belongings packed in a yellow rental truck. Dave shows Dad the new and improved toy, shows Dad how the tire spins (insert male snickering here) and proceeds to hand the mini-bike over for a spin.

That is where this whole thing goes wrong.

(Insert male ego here) Dad takes a slow loop around the back yard, comes back and says "I think the clutch is slipping". Dave says "It's a centrifugal clutch" (whatever that means), then Dad takes off again - only this time I see him pull the throttle wide open. The rest occurs in slow motion.

The front wheel starts wavering, the handle bars start jerking wildly left and right. Then I watch in complete horror as my Dear Old Dad goes flying over the handlebars and tumbles a few times into the grass.

He starts fumbling around for his glasses and notices a burn from the exhaust on his leg, but other than that he is fine (why didn't I have a camera rolling?).

What is it about men and the need to take themselves to the brink? I think my Dad has lost it for getting on that thing and cranking the throttle wide open, but then I think DAVE! The last thing you want in your life is my Dad living on our couch for three months with his leg in a cast! I am thanking God for a happy ending to this one!

What does Dave say about this? He now has a new respect for my Dad!? What's a lady to do?

Jerome Jalopy Hunting

Without a doubt, Jerome is one of the more interesting places to wander in Arizona. It is very rich with Arizona mine history, it is fun to navigate around the corners of buildings on its narrow winding roads, the locals are really fun to talk to, and it hosts some of the states best restaurants. I'll find excuses just to cut through Jerome when traversing the state.

Being built on the side of a mountain, the real estate in the town is very tight. Typically the only unused land are the very steep ravines in between the outcropping of homes and businesses built on the less steep areas. Peering up into these ravines and washes, you see that they are actually used land, used to store old barrels, washer machines, ovens and trucks. Lots and lots of trucks.

In between Beale Street and Douglass/State Park Road is a stretch with all sorts of our past in metal form. Leaf springs sticking out of the wash, old tires that nature converted to convenient wild flower planters, rusted frames with prickly pear sprouting from them, car cabs with decades of wash sand layered in them.

Route 89A from Cottonwood, just as you start to see houses perched over the edge, you'll see a few crumpled remains of old truck cabs, beds, and barrels scattered around in a wash. Layers of sand and rock resting around the old heavy patina parts.

http://pinterest.com/s9santoro/jerome-jalopy-hunting/

Left of Leupp

Wandering east of Flagstaff, AZ, trying to chase down interference for work. I had to find a hilltop to see if we could repeat the signal. The high desert near Leupp is not much more than windswept scrub. Miles and miles of it. This 1954 Ford Mainline was sitting quietly on the top of a hill.

One person's heap of junk, another person's art....