Murder on the 101

Saturday, June 3rd

Today I would see the Redwoods!  I was pretty pumped for that.  I left Eureka! and continued north to the "Trees of Mystery".  They are something else.  Trees grow out of trees that have fallen, and some grow out of trees that are standing straight up.  And the shear size and age of them is staggering. 

The rest of the day would not be as fun, but possibly more interesting. 

I remember a Seinfeld episode in which George accidentally runs over a squirrel.  And he explains that we are supposed to have a deal with them, and they should know to get out of the way.  As I was riding along thinking about how big those Redwoods are, and bird landed in the road just ahead of me.  I had not time to react, and wasn't able to swerve out of a path that led my wheels to where he was standing.  I ran the bird over.  I looked in my rear view mirrow and saw him lying lifeless, and another bird flying to his aid, or most likely to comfort him in his last moments here on earth.  What happened to the deal!?  Why didn't you fly away!

                                                 R.I.P.
                                                Tweety
                                             2007-20011
                                      Beloved Husband and Father

Further down the road, with a heavy heart, I pulled over to mourn the loss of Tweety.  I went to kick Clyde's kickstand down, and noticed it was already down.  Hmmm, that's not right.  The spring that hold's it up when riding had detached from the kickstand, making it a limpstand, and impossible to continue riding unless I wanted to scrape every inch of road with it.  I tried for a while to re-attach it, but that spring is very strong, and all my might couldn't pull it far enough to re-attach.  I came up with the genious idea of using my electrical tape.  I put tape around the end of the kickstand, and then pulled it up with the tape, and taped the other end to the my bike.  Simple solutions work every time.  I drove another 80 miles and got a room in a town with a Harley dealership that could fix it.

The Oregon coast: