I am presently reading Ron Chernow's huge, 1,000 page opus about Mark Twain. You may recall his biography on Alexander Hamilton that was a best seller for a hell of a long time. I liked the Hamilton book. That is what caused me get the Twain bio.
I am reminded of my recently departed <sob> Harley Davidson riding days when I would at times take off solo through the Sierra Nevada foothills on day trips. Once, between Sonora and Jackson in Calaveras County, I rounded a curve and noticed a small sign on my left that said, "Jack Ass Hill Road." That sparked my curiosity so I turned around and rode up that hill. It was a short ride, not even a quarter of a mile I believe, when I saw a dilapidated old one room cabin surrounded by a metal fence.
There was absolutely no one there except a donkey who looked at me through another nearby fence. No surprise there, a jackass on Jackass Hill Road. I parked the Harley and checked a sign at the cabin that told me Mark Twain had lived there. It was marked as "California Historical Landmark No. 138."
The cabin is where he reportedly wrote his first novel, "The Notorious Jumping Frog of Calaveras County." The iron fence is modern though, supposedly to fend off those who might mess with it.
(Photo... Twain's cabin and my Harley sometime between 2000 and 2003.)
I snapped a photo then and there of the cabin and the Harley, thinking they may have had something common. Twain and I were both exploring when we landed on Jack Ass Hill Road. I believe we both shared an appreciation for the possibilities life offered. We both wrote about it too. He of course, "killed" his writing as they say these days. Mine? I just maimed my writing a little but my stories remain, in the same spirit as his.
