The First Harley Trip, 2014 Part 6: A Visit With My Dad

The First Harley Trip, 2014

Part 6: A Visit With My Dad

“The tragedy of life is not that it ends so soon, but that we wait so long to begin it.” -W. M. Lewis

Normally, leaving my brother and his wife is a sad event.  I don't get to see them nearly as often as would like. But in this case, we were going to be seeing each other in about four days at his motorcycle club's Memorial Day spring opener. The next four days was going to be spent with my dad who lived a full day's ride away in the northeast corner of the state in Milton Freewater, Oregon.

For the most part, the ride between Powell Butte and Milton Freewater is rural, a no-man's-land. The high desert turns into pine forests, farm lands, valleys, mountains, and is dotted with occasional small rural towns. It's the epitome of rural America and hard working Americans.

Missing breakfast and eating only a small danish at some small cafe along the way,  my growling stomach and a craving for a greasy burger and fries took me to an off-the-beaten-path side-of-the-road cafe in a small town called Ukiah. A true cowtown, this greasy spoon of a diner with an attached bar was exactly what I was looking for. The place had all of the obligatory grease, grime, dirt, and torn upholstery one would expect. There were three booths, two of which had the dirty dishes still on the table from the previous customers but the customers were long gone; I had a sense they had been for quite some time. There was no door between the dining room and the kitchen giving me a straight line-of-sight to the practices of the food preparation. The server who also was the cook, was a young rather large gal that apparently didn't have easy access to a washing machine, or so her clothes implied. After ordering, my server, now cook, disappeared for nearly a half hour. I never quite figured why or where she went but eventually she returned and made the absolutely most delicious burger I have ever eaten. Seriously, I'm somewhat of a burger connoisseur and have eaten every kind of burger known to man in many corners of the planet. This one was freakin’ delicious!

Normally, the wait would have tried my patience and would have been way too long of a wait. If there would have been another cafe within 20 miles, I would have left before the cook returned. However, in this case, the conversations in the attached bar were just too interesting not to stay. Getting high-centered on two adjacent bar stools were two young women who looked like they had the same eating and grooming habits as my server/cook. They were loud, crude, lacking any social filters, and I'm sure they had figured some kind of scam to trade their EBT cards for pitchers of beer. The whole experience looked like an opening scene from the 1960s Twilight Zone series or an audition for the Jerry Springer Show. Two years later on a trip to see my dad, I stopped at this same cafe, ordered the same meal, and am pretty sure the same people were still sitting in the same stools talking about the same things.......and the burger was as good as I remembered.

Back on the road, I made my way towards Milton Freewater. It had been about 8 years since I last saw my dad. I believe it was when he and his wife, Peggy, came to SoCal for my 50^th birthday party/celebration that Liz threw for me. For no other reason than the 1000 miles distance between us and the day to day grind of life in general, we just let the time slip between us. And, although I made an effort to call him often to speak to him, usually about the exact same thing we spoke about the week before, I missed him and looked forward to spending a few days with him. 

 

          As I pulled Dorothy into my dad's driveway and shut off the engine, I could hear his three dogs barking, bringing attention to my arrival. An old man with a long unkempt grey beard looked out the window to see what the commotion was all about. It was my dad. At first, I was somewhat taken back by how much he had aged in the eight years since I had saw him. He was 80 years old, and looked it. 

His ability to walk was greatly diminished as was his hearing. He was no longer driving a car but he did have a motorized wheelchair that allowed him to cruise the neighborhood with one of his dogs on his lap, weather permitting. The VA had graciously built an aluminum wheelchair ramp that led from the driveway to his front door. Had it not been for Peggy, my dad would no longer be able to care for himself well enough to stay in their home. Peggy, or should I say, Saint Peggy, I could tell, was exhausted having to care for him. It was obvious that her ability to continue was limited although she would never admit it. Her love and dedication to my dad is a testament to her character and her love for her God.

          Most of our time together was spent sitting on the sofa either talking about the good old days or watching Pawn Stars and American Pickers, two of my dad’s favorite TV shows.  Dad made it clear on several occasions that he thought Chumlee was a “dumbass” and that Rick should “fire his ass.” We went out for dinner one night, but it was difficult for him to get in and out of the car and once in the restaurant, the ambient noise made it difficult for him to hear and hold a conversation. 

          On the second day there, my Uncle LeRoy, who also lives in Milton Freewater, cruised his Harley on over to visit. It had been at least 15 years since I had seen LeRoy. For those that don’t know, LeRoy is somewhat of an icon in the San Gabriel Valley, famous for his restaurant, “LeRoy’s Breakfast King.” Not surprising and in true LeRoy fashion, he had one of the most beautiful custom built Harleys. It was the real deal. Not one of those that gets built for a TV reality show but one that could actually be ridden. As far back as I can remember, LeRoy has always had the nicest cars, and lots of them. His Harley was no exception. I remember when I was a young kid, LeRoy told me, “It don’t matter where you are going as long as you look good getting there. And Glenn, I’m always lookin’ good.” 

Spending several days with my dad was a highlight of the trip. I was also planning on coming back through Milton Freewater, in a week or so, to spend a few more days with him before I headed back home to Sierra Madre so  saying goodbye was not a sad affair, this time. We said our goodbyes in the morning and I headed out towards Niagara Springs, a full days ride.

My next destination was to meet up with Hotrod and JodiRod for the club’s spring opener run at Niagara Springs in Southern Idaho.