Unsolved Mysteries & The Moose

Carol and George

Last night was our final night in a hotel.  I am happy to report that Oxford Suites is now employing refillable containers for all the toiletries.

The ride to Medford was uneventful. We left the desert behind and entered the forests. The following are a few of my thoughts:

Why would someone name a town Craig?
How about Stinkwater Creek?
The owner of the Hells Backbone Kitchen didn't like me. Now, I know I can be an acquired taste like red wine or American cheese, but she gave George a two handed shake when she said goodbye to him our last night of dining there. It's too bad, I love her food, but I can't eat in someone's kitchen who doesn't care for me.
It's 2013 and Utah and Colorado still do not have toilet seat covers!
The morning we stopped for coffee and hot chocolate in another small country town, on the way out I spotted a business called Tame Your Iron. Now there's a mystery. I know what I think goes on behind the door. And it involves a wizard. The imagery has kept me laughing through some pretty lean times on the bike.

During our ride through the Rocky Mountains we became part of a parade. The lead car was a random four wheel drive.  Then there were four convertible sports cars. Then us. I have not mentioned this before, but there is a lot of law enforcement in Colorado. So we ambled through the park on the lookout for moose. In fact, George informed me that we would not be leaving the area until we spotted Mr. or Mrs. Moose. You know when a moose is spotted because hundreds of cars have pulled over to get a glimpse.  In back of us Easy Rider shoots by passing all of us on his Harley, no helmet, his long blond hair held in by a bandanna, as he crosses the double yellow lines and leaves us in a trail of his cool dust. Then, the first five in the parade pull over for a fake out and we pass them.  A  miracle occurs and we come upon a group that has a true moose in its site. George slows the bike, we watch the moose graze with his back to us, I snap a few pictures that didn't come out, and off we go. And the Easy Rider?  He had been pulled over by one of the, We Don't Play coppers and was getting a ticket.  Oppps.

The black spot is Mr. Moose eating. (I think)

Medford at last.  One last stop at the Harley store so George can add to his collection of 273 shirts. We arrive at Carol's beautiful home, looking and smelling like roadkill, but she welcomes us anyway. As always there is the aroma of baking cookies and the refrigerator is filled with cold water and diet Pepsi.  We had a wonderful dinner, I finally had a friend to talk to, and we won't be off to anywhere but Ashland for shopping tomorrow.

Jenson