Real fast?
Kennedy gold mine, Jackson, California As it looks today |
(As if there could be one?)
On the day before today
The Coyote and I
Decided to break out the Harleys
For a little pre-Spring run
To the NorCal foothills
Mining country, gold that is...
Jackson was our destination
Mel and Faye's diner for a damn fine late breakfast
Jackson is an old gold mining town
Named after "Alden Appola Moore Jackson"
Helluva name wouldn't you say?
Tyler you are lucky I didn't know about this
When you were born
"Alden Appola Moore Campbell?" Hmmmm....
I have been there dozens of times
In my Harley riding life
And it has been beautiful each time
The forecast was 70
It was in the fifties on our way up
In the sixties on our way back
Cruising... handlebar to handlebar
On the stretches less traveled
Two throaty, rumbling Harleys making music
On one stretch of the return
I picked up the scent of a bakery
There is nothing quite like it
Unless you consider similar smells picked up while outdoors
Like bacon frying in the pan
Or potatoes and onions frying in butter
The thought then struck me
In my scented reverie
"Slaked and Slathered"... or vice-versa
Flashback to the Azore Islands
Fresh made bread
Slathered with dollops of the world's richest, most delicious butter
Coupled with home-made wine - made using genuine Portuguese feet
Bottled in old liquor containers
Two bits each - to slake your thirst
Why "slake"?
Consider a National Geographic special
On Africa; commentator, Alec Baldwin
Alec had the world's worst script writer
So every time the animals stopped to drink
Alec said they were "slaking their thirst."
He also threw in an occasional "slathered."
That's why
Anyway, where was I?
Oh yes, Slathering and Slaking
Two things you definitely want to do
If you are ever in the Azores.
That's why
Anyway, where was I?
Oh yes, Slathering and Slaking
Two things you definitely want to do
If you are ever in the Azores.
2 comments:
It sounds like a beautiful day, and a great ride! We thought about naming our son after a favorite jeep trail in Moab, Utah, but luckily for our son, we came to our senses.
"Damn fine..." I miss hearing that! Looking forward to some damn fine golf, my friend.
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