The First Harley Trip, 2014 Part 11: Barb and Tina

The First Harley Trip, 2014

Part 11: Barb and Tina

“If you don't ride in the rain, you don't ride.”  ~Author Unknown

            Waking up at sunrise, I packed Dorothy and headed up the road for my morning Starbucks. It was raining and cold; 49 degrees. Normally, I like to enjoy my morning 20 oz. by sitting outside away from the cacophony of the coffee grinders and blenders that concoct those   bullshit seven dollar caffeinated yuppie drinks. But this morning I sat inside to beat the weather. Sitting there, I tried to take in and reconcile the last few days in CDA and what it all meant. It was bitter sweet, but mostly sweet. In the end, as far as CDA was concerned, I concluded that in some regards I was mourning the loss of an old friend and at the same time I was celebrating meeting and making a new friend, a younger more vibrant and energetic one. Change can be hard to accept. And, it’s important to acknowledge when changes have been made for the better. I left CDA felling it was a better place.

          I headed south on the 95 along CDA Lake towards Lewiston, Idaho   in what soon became, and still is, the most miserable ride I’ve ever had. Needless to say, I hate the cold and wet! Lesson learned about having the right gloves in cold and wet riding conditions.

          I was looking forward to seeing Barb, my dad’s second wife, and Tina, Barb’s daughter and my step-sister. It had been about

30 years since Barb and my dad divorced but I had managed to find her and see her twice in those 30 years. It had been about 30 years since I last saw or spoke with Tina. The last time we met, Tina was living in some shithole of a trailer, parked behind a gas station, somewhere in North Idaho. We had completely lost touch.

          As I mentioned in the previous post, CDA presented many challenges in my life while I lived there. One, and the most critical challenge, was learning how to be poor and how to struggle. In the late 70’s and early 80’s, North Idaho went through a horrible recession. The timber and housing industries shut down to less than nothing. Prime rate was in the 20% range. Home mortgages, the good ones, were in the 9% range, three times what they are today. There were times when I didn’t have enough food to feed my family or enough money to properly care for my newborn son, Eli. There has never been a time when my life felt more hopeless.  At one point, in an act of desperation and thinking I had no other alternatives, I tried to re-enlist back into the Air Force. On three separate occasions over a period of three weeks, I failed to pass the physical exam because of high blood pressure. After a failed third attempt, I was told I was ineligible to re-enlist for a period of one year. At the time, I figured it was because of all of the stress I was going through. Little did I know that I would need to spend the rest of my life controlling my blood pressure with medication.  

          Barb grew up poor. She not only knew and understood poverty, but she knew how to recognize another’s feelings of helplessness and defeat.  Barb would sneak food into our house leaving it in cupboards or the refrigerator. Or, she’d bring meals over stating, “Hey, I made too much dinner and it will go to waste if nobody eats it. Do you mind eating it for us?”  Or, making me a sack-lunch, she’d bring it to my house and say, “Your dad forgot to take his lunch to work. Will you eat this so it doesn’t spoil?”  Barb knew how to offer help without offending my pride or dignity. She never told anyone about it either. It was just her way. And although we never felt a need to discuss it, we both knew, that we both knew, the truth. I can never thank her enough for all of her acts of kindness and help.

          Arriving in Lewistown, I met Barb and Tina at the local Harley Davidson dealership. Instead of trying to give me directions to their apartment, they drove to the dealership and had me follow them home.

          Barb looked frail and in poor health; she was both. For as long as I knew her, Barb had suffered from lupus. It was obvious that a lifetime of this disease had taken its toll on her life. Tina, who was also on disability, was doing her best to take care of her mom. We spent the afternoon catching up on the last 30 years and reminiscing about the old days. We had Dominos deliver us a few pizzas for lunch. We laughed, we hugged, we cried as we said goodbye, and I thanked her for everything she was in my life.

          As I left, I knew this would be the last time I ever saw Barb. She died a year later.

The First Harley Trip, 2014 Part 10: Coeur d’ Alene

The First Harley Trip, 2014

Part 10: Coeur d’ Alene

There was so much I wanted to do and see in CDA and the surrounding area but I only had a few days to do it. First on my list was just to drive through the town and see the changes. I wanted to see the old Siesta Motel at the east end of Sherman Ave that my parents owned in the mid 70’s. I wanted to go to Fernan Lake at the east end of town. I wanted to visit Spirit Lake a small town where I bought my first home, about a half hour north of CDA. I wanted to visit Kelso Lake, the place where my family took our annual vacations during my childhood. And I wanted to go see the house my dad built out in the boonies north of Sandpoint.

Visiting CDA after all these years became an emotional and contemplative few days for me that I did not expect. It was filled with both fond memories and recollections of sadness.  CDA is where my parent’s marriage ended and therefore my family as I knew it. CDA represented failures for both my dad and I. CDA is where my brother grew up and was forced into adulthood at an early age through many difficult situations that were outside of his control. CDA is where I went through some of my most difficult financial times and feelings of helplessness and despair. CDA is where my son Eli was born. CDA is where I bought my first home. CDA is where I the made to decision to never consume another drop of alcohol. CDA is where I learned about survival and the value of becoming self-reliant. I suppose over the years, I had locked away certain memories that I was now, although unknowingly, ready to confront.

After an early morning Starbucks, I rode around CDA trying to locate some memories. I was amazed at how CDA had grown and changed. At one point back in the 70’s, the local McDonalds was the only one in the country, perhaps the world, with a hitching post for horses. That was long gone, giving way to a crowded bustling street with traffic lights. What was once farmland was now tract housing developments. The highway leading north out of town, 95, was now a continuous stream of  commercial shops, strip malls, and chain stores and chain restaurants of ever kind imaginable creating a seamless transition into the next town, Hayden Lake; now, just called “Hayden.”  I tried to find the single story hospital and clinic where Eli was born but that was now a huge multi-building multi-story medical complex with acres of parking lots. The motel my parents owned had been demolished and in its place was an office building of some sort. Some of the cute lakeside cottages were now highrise condos by the lake. All in all though, I must say that with all of the changes and development, the city planners and powers that be did a great job controlling the progress and development. There seemed to be some intelligent long-term professional planning and a definite vision in place. I was happy about that. CDA, if it was change you were looking for, you did a fine job.  

The next day I headed north, first stopping at Spirit Lake to see the changes there.

Downtown Spirit Lake

I rode by the house I had purchased in 1979.

My First Home

It looked the same as did the entire town, although maybe a bit cleaner and a bit tidier.

From there, I headed east on a rural road and headed to Kelso Lake. Arriving at the east end of Kelso Lake, I stopped where my family still owns a small undeveloped lakeside lot, “The Corner Pocket” that my parents bought in 1967 or so. It looked the same.

The Corner Pocket

Heading farther up the dirt road, I came to the place where Kelso Lake Resort once stood. This was the place I spent my childhood vacations.

The resort was gone, abandoned, giving the appearance of blight.

Kelso Lake . Where the resort once stood

Actually, all of the cabins on the lake looked rundown, second rate, and in need of repairs. I guess Robert Frost was right when he said, “…nothing gold can stay.”

 Saddened by the state of Kelso Lake I backtracked on the dirt road heading north. On a small section of the dirt road, I was reminded how this stretch is where my dad taught me how to drive a stick-shift in his 1965 VW bug. I was probably in 6^th grade at the time.

The road where my dad taught me how to drive a stick shift

I headed north on 95 to Sandpoint passing all of the small towns and lakes realizing that I had forgotten their names but smiled as I read them; Garwood, Carrywood, Cocolalla. I crossed over Pend Oreille Lake on the bridge but did not realize that the highway had bypassed some of the town. After a bit of confusion, I found the highway that would take me towards my dad’s old house, the one he built 35 years ago. Like the other roads that I remember as being rural, this road had been developed with its share of commercial buildings and chain junk food restaurants.

 I knew once I hit the old Colburn Store, I needed to turn right. After several miles and realizing that I had gone too far, I realized that the old store had been torn down. I found the road I was looking for, Colburn-Culver Road, and took it to the dirt road, just past the railroad tracks, that I remembered would take me to my dad’s house. Finding the road, I made the right turn and headed towards my dad’s. The only problem was that in the 35 years it had been since I last saw that property, all of his fields, 52 acres worth,  had been planted with pine trees. It looked different. I was looking for open meadows and all I saw was forest. Eventually, I found some familiar landmarks and located the dirt drive that took me to his house, which was now the house and a small lumber mill.

Dad's House

The house, never finished, was in terrible disrepair. Two men were working on the interior starting to restore it. Talking to them, I learned that the owner is the same owner my dad sold the property to, Bob Lucemore. Bob also owned the local lumber yard, explaining the on-site lumber mill. Shortly after my arrival, Bob arrived. We had a nice conversation about my dad and his ex-wife, Barb. Bob let me take pictures and walk around.

Saw Mill

I know my dad was always proud of that house. It had the appearance of Noah’s Ark turned upside down.  It was somewhat of an engineering puzzle that he figured out in the simplest of design and fabrication techniques. He bartered for materials and labor and built most of everything himself with the help of his wife, (at the time,) Barb. Eventually, because of his financial condition at the time, he was forced to sell it and move to California to start a new life, a happier life. It saddened me to see a dream of my dad’s knowing that he never got to see it fully completed.

Heading back to CDA, the temperature dropped and it started to rain. I didn’t have my gloves with me and my hands let me know it. It was about a 90 minute ride back to the motel. Not fun!

After a hot shower and a meal, I settled into bed in front of the TV ready for a good night’s sleep. In the morning, I’d be heading south to Lewiston, Idaho to find Barb…………after a morning Starbucks.

The First Harley Trip, 2014 Part 9: The Road to Coeur d’ Alene

The First Harley Trip, 2014

Part 9: The Road to Coeur d’ Alene

 “30 years ago, I was serving up crank on the bar-top. Now its cheeseburgers.”……

Anonymous 1%er who survived the crank wars of the 80’s and still frequents the clubhouse.

My plan was to make the trip to Coeur d’ Alene, (CDA) in two full days. I wanted to ride through Sun Valley, Idaho and then ride through Chalis and Salmon, two small towns in Idaho that I heard about from a tough ol’ redneck neighbor of mine, Kirby Corsi, when I resided in Idaho back in 1978 through 1981.

A few hours into the day’s ride, I missed the highway that would have taken me to Sun Valley. Putting about 20 miles between me and the turn-off before I realized I had missed my turn, I decided to stick with my plan to continue on all wrong turns and see where it would take me. The decision paid in dividends too. Before I knew it, I entered a place called “Crater of the Moon National Monument and Preserve,” a United States National Monument in the Snake River Plain of Central Idaho. Somewhat surreal, Crater of the Moon National Monument is a large lava flow that has a very prehistoric vibe. One almost believes a dinosaur could appear at any moment.

Farther up the road, I found a highway that put me back in the direction I wanted to go to get to Chalis and Salmon. The road took me through the Sawtooth and Bitterroot mountain ranges, beautiful national forests, and pristine ranch and farmlands. This was real shit-kicking cowboy country. Real Marlboro Man territory; the kind of place where every truck has an “Easyrider rifle rack” and a “Goat-Ropers Need Love Too” bumper sticker.  Real Americana.

Up the road a bit and several hours later, I came to the small town of Lolo. Nothing noteworthy except for the name. In Hawaiian, “lolo” means “crazy.” Hawaiians refer to marijuana as “pakalolo,” (crazy tobacco)  or “going lolo” (going crazy.) I could only imagine what kind of crazy sheep shaggin’ shit went on in this town to earn the name.

I settled in Missoula, Montana for the night in some chain hotel. 

In the morning after finding a Starbucks, I headed west on I-90 towards CDA. CDA is a special place for me. I lived there for a short period of time after being discharged from the military. My oldest son, Eli, was born there, and my brother spent the latter part of his childhood growing up in CDA. It had been about 25 years since my last visit to CDA and I wasn’t sure what to expect. I had been thinking about staying at the Wolf Lodge Campground on CDA Lake, just outside of the downtown area.

I-90 is a beautiful scenic route that takes you through miles of pine forests and mountain corridors. Close to CDA is the small historic town of Wallace Idaho. At one point in Wallace’s history it was a thriving mining town but its real notoriety and claim to local fame was Wallace’s numerous brothels (now listed as historical landmarks) that remained in operation until sometime in the early 1990s.

Another side note about Wallace is that it was home to the “other red light,” the only traffic light along the entire 3,081-mile stretch of Interstate Highway 90, stretching from Boston to Seattle. The “other red light” still hangs over the intersection of 7th and Bank Streets, although the main I-90 now bi-passes the downtown area. I made a quick stop to take a few pics and buy a Diet Coke then headed down the Fourth of July Pass and into CDA.  

I entered CDA on the east end of Sherman Ave., the town’s old main drag. Sherman is about a mile and a half long ending at CDA Lake. Riding through town, I was amazed how developed it was since my last visit 25 years ago. What was once a logging town was now a tourist town more like South Lake Tahoe.

I found a Starbucks and had a rest and a venti coffee. The weather forecast was calling for rain so I figured I better shit-can my Wolf Lodge Campground idea and find a cheap motel. Back up towards the east end of town, I found one for $49 per night. If it was good enough for the local tweekers, I figured it was good enough for me.