We are back in Goshen, IN to have some more warrantee work done on our trailer. Last Wednesday we drove over to the Lima, OH area to locate an RV Park within reasonable riding distance to Piqua, where Ken & Cathy Johnson live (Ken is a "childish", "OOPS"! I mean "childhood" friend, and Dawn's Godfather). We had learned a few months ago that Cathy was planning a "60th Birthday Party" for Ken, and wanted us to attend as a "surprise"). we (I) just could not resist the opportunity to "heckle" an "Old" guy in his moment of greatest vulnerability and weakness. Unfortunately, Ken is on our e-mail list at work and was able to figure out our intentions from our "Update" comments. So much for our attending his party being a surprise.

Wednesday afternoon we went sight-seeing in the rain, in the truck. Just north of Piqua we drove into a "downpour" with winds so strong that we were repeatedly blown from one side of the Intestate to the other. Thursday we rode the Harley around a lot of back roads from Lima and through a town by the name of "New Hampshire", Ohio (where I was charged $2.10 a gallon for gas). We ended up at the Piqua Harley Davidson shop, and learned later that the owner lived next door to Ken.

On Friday, after touring south of Piqua on the Harley, we went to Ken & Cathy's for a cook-out (another FREE meal). Ken's sister, "Kaylene", and his father (Ken Sr.), were both there, as well as Ken and Cathy's son, "Tripp" (Kenneth McLean Johnson III), their new daughter-in-law, Shannon, and their daughter, Shelly. Tripp is my Godchild, which could explain his fixation with motorcycles and "other" strange behavior. However, having finely met Shannon, I can tell you that I like her much better than Tripp. She's prettier, smells better, is far more agreeable, and looks much prettier in a dress. Tripp is a remarkable young man who is on an U.S. Army "contract" as an officer in medical school, intends to specialize in Emergency Room Triage, and hopes to do his "Residency" at Fort Sam Houston, Texas. Shelly is no less infatuated with motorcycles than her brother and went with me on a "putt" up to Sidney and back, before dinner was ready. Having been a while since we had seen these folks, there was much "catching up" to do. This was also when we met Jim Gover, the owner of the local Harley shop, as well as "Pat & Patty", Harley riding friends of the Johnson's. At this time, Jim invited us all to his Harley shop on Saturday, for his annual Open House, including more "FREE EATS"!

On Saturday, Bobbi and I spent the morning just 'cooling it" at the KOA RV Park in Wapakaneta, OH, watching all the bikers who had come for the AMA Grand National Short Track Race, being held in Lima later that same evening. This particular KOA features a half dozen furnished "log cabins". All of these had been rented by the bikers (most on Harleys), with several more staying in a wide variety of RVs and tents. We had a sort of Mini-Daytona Bike Week "Happening", right in our park.

At noon, we headed out on the bike for the Harley shop in Piqua, where we met up with Tripp and his lovely bride, who has "indulging" Tripp's fantasy for a new Harley, despite his having bought a "rice-rocket" just 3 months ago. He had signed up for no less than three test rides on a V-Rod, Heritage Softtail Classic, and a Buell. Bobbi and I accompanied him,on his V-Rod ride, together with a shop "guide" and several other "test" riders. The shop provided a fast half hour ride, at a "brisk pace", up and down the back roads to the East of Piqua. Unfortunately, Tripp is wholly competent on a bike, has caught the "Harley Bug", and is determined to trade his Rice-rocket for a Harley. Shannon is just as determined that he will NOT be getting one until he is earning money as a physician. ("Boy", does all this sound vaguely familiar.)

Saturday evening was Ken's 60th Birthday party, and what a party it was. People had come from all over the country, just to "needle" Kenny about hi age. Being three years older, I chose my words wisely, and kept the insults to a minimum for fear of retaliation. Cathy had a local caterer bring in and set up the food, which featured whole salmon, that was out of this world, several cold dishes, delicious salads, and a wide selection of beverages. There was a brief rainstorm early in the evening, but it quickly passed and failed to dampen the spirit of the evening. Tables had been set up all around the pool. Patty had constructed a floating "montage" of greens and candles. Once the sun went down, these candles became the major source of light for the attendees, while poor Ken was forced to read one insulting "greeting" after another under a spotlight. As a life-long flight instructor Ken was subjected to a barrage of well deserved jibs from fellow pilots and former students. The balance of the guests were work-related or neighborhood friends acquired over the years, who possessed no less skill or motivation in poking fun of Ken. To his credit, Ken was a good sport and was overheard saying something about "deferring" retribution to a later time, and on an individual basis.

Sunday morning, Ken, Cathy, and several others came for coffee and to see our new trailer, after which, we all went to breakfast to chow-down and resume our indiscriminant "heckling" of each other, before going on our separate ways. Bobbi and I loaded up and headed back to Goshen, IN, to have more scheduled work done on the trailer on Tuesday, and to celebrate our Anniversary in a particularly impressive Amish restaurant we has seen in Middlebury, IN. Unfortunately, when we got to the restaurant we found that it was closed on Sundays, so we resolved to go back on Tuesday. Instead, we went back to our trailer and "had a wild sexual experience"; would you believe, "had a romantic candle-light dinner for two; OK, OK, would you believe, "we shook hands, went to neutral corners, and fell asleep watching TV"?

When we checked back with the repair shop on Tuesday, we were told that the parts that were due to arrive that day, from the Forest River Factory in California, did not arrive. Worse yet, those parts (and the additional parts required to repair the damage that I did), are now not expected until after the 4th of July weekend. So our unit has been rescheduled for Wednesday through Friday, July 9th -11th. This means that we will be getting back to New Hampshire later than expected, and we will have to find a way to amuse ourselves in the mean time.

On Monday we went to "MENNO-HOF, the Mennonite-Amish Visitors Center and Museum in Shipshewana, IN, located across the road from the giant flea market that we previously told about. This is an immense series of structures that were raised in just nine days by the local Amish and Mennonite people, to provide a venue to educate visitors on their way of life, religion, and history. Once exposed to their view of these things, they appear much less unusual. Here are some of the things that we learned:

The Amish, Mennonites (and the Hutterites) all sprang out of the "Anabaptist" movement that was spawned by the Reformation in the Holy Christian Church (Roman Catholic) spearheaded by the German Priest, Martin Luther. This movement began in Zurich, Switzerland in 1525, when a group of believers baptized only adults who made voluntary "confession" of faith.

The Anabaptists sought to restore the church to the purity of its early years. They believed the church had become corrupted by state control (Rome, Berlin, London, Paris, etc.) which demanded that all (its) citizens be baptized as infants. The Anabaptists became the first church in more than 1000 years to call for and practice "the separation of church and state". the Anabaptists were violently persecuted for years by both Catholic and Protestant authorities who considered their stance both heresy and often as not, treason.

The Hutterites are the oldest of the Anabaptist groups. Named after an early leader, Jacob Hutter, they organized in Monrovia (Czechoslovakia) in the mid 1500s. From the beginning, these people have practiced communal living, including the common ownership of property. Today Hutterites are located in Canada, the U.S., England and Japan. However, none are living in the northern Indiana region.

" Mennonite" is the name that became attached to the largest body of Anabaptists. It comes from Menno Simons, a Dutch priest who joined the movement in 1536 and became its most influential leader. Most Mennonites drive cars, work in a wide variety of jobs and professions, and choose to live and dress like the neighbors around them. Today, there are more than 750,000 members of the world-wide Mennonite community. As an all inclusive faith, more than half of these people are other than white (Caucasian).

The Amish, led by Jacob Ammann, began in the 1690s with a group that split from the Mennonites. Ammonn and his Swiss followers believed that fellow Mennonites were "losing spiritual discipline" and becoming too much like the (political and violent) world around them. As such, the Amish have resisted war, political involvement, and many modern conveniences, declining to own cars, radios or televisions and rejecting the use of telephones and electricity inside their homes. A phone booth in the yard is becoming acceptable for business and emergency use, and generators are becoming acceptable to run some farm equipment like pasteurizers This last concession was necessary to continue to sell dairy products after pasteurization laws were enacted). Today the Amish are located primarily in the United States, and Canada, with most of the 100,000 members living in Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana.

While most if the outward appearance of the Amish (ankle length dresses & bonnets for women, pants with suspenders only and broad-brimmed hats for men) is viewed with curiosity by outsiders, the modes of transportation employed are very unusual. Beyond the many horse and buggies seen in this area, the Amish employ a wide variety of bicycles. Some of these are very cleaver contraptions that have been developed and built by the Amish. It is amazing to see an Amish couple, in full Amish garb, whizzing down a road at 20 - 30 mph on a bicycle that requires both people to lay on their backs to push peddles configured out in front of them. Coming to a stop is a sight to behold, as most of these have full 26" wheels, and as likely as not, a full load of groceries in a basket on the rear.

While most of the Amish raise and train their own work horses, the horses employed to pull their buggies are bred and trained as Pacers or Trotters for Harness Racing. The less competitive of these are purchased from the outside world with money earned in various jobs held in addition to the farm duties. It is not at all unusual for the Amish to travel 30 miles in a day in their buggies, most of which are extremely comfortable and cost about $3,000. These Buggies most be registered at a cost of $25 per year, and are equipped with running lights powered by a battery.

While most Amish children are raised speaking a form of the Dutch/Germanic language at home, they learn English in public school. However, most children are not allowed to go beyond the 8th grade, because they are expected to work full-time on the family farm. This "truncated" education becomes evident in the limited ability of some Amish people to fully express themselves in public, relegating them to lower paying jobs. On the other hand, the Mennonites participate fully in the available educational process and become the business and medical professionals that the Amish must rely on. Most Amish marry quite young and raise large families. Married men are required to grow and maintain a full beard to signify their status. However, the face is clean-shaven and void of a moustache, so as "not to contaminate the Communion cup" in religious services.

The actual religious services (conducted in Amish Homes, and Mennonites churches), appear to be very similar to main-stream Protestant services. I even recognized several Hymns in an Amish Hymnal that were identical to those in an Episcopal Hymnal, most notably, "The Doxology" (Praise God from whom all blessings flow, etc.). However, both groups refuse to be considered "Protestant Denominations". Additionally, both groups are Pacifists and "Conscientious Objectors" who refuse to serve in the military. The Amish even refuse to participate in the political process of their host country, while the Mennonites will vote and even hold office. While all pay taxes, some Amish are known to withhold that portion that they believe is designated to support our military. I don't know the ramifications of that practice, but will try to learn them.

Well, that's about all that has gone on out here. We now have to find a way to amuse ourselves for the next two weeks, and Bobbi has been pouring over maps while I write this, so I'm a little apprehensive. Stay tuned.

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We have spent the last couple of days in Goshen, IN while some work is being done on our (new) trailer (nothing is perfect), and this was a great opportunity to have "factory" people in Indiana correct any flaws. While the factory was working on the trailer, we took the opportunity to ride the Harley touring the area and the Amish lifestyle. From all of the horse and buggies in this area, it looks like the Amish (and Mennonites) are the ethnic majority. There are even covered horse stalls at the Goshen Wal-Mart. If the Amish aren't traveling about in a buggy they are riding some of the damnedest bicycles you have ever seen, including bicycles-built-for-two of their own design. Some of these have both riders sitting in a semi-prone position with the peddles out in front of them. The speeds at which some of these bicycles go makes the horses too slow to bother with.

This area is beautiful, unspoiled country, that is free of trash and graffiti, and appears to have a very healthy economy. All of the farms (and there are a lot of them) appear to be productive and profitable. In addition, there are innumerable busy and diverse manufacturing operations scattered throughout all of Indiana's rolling hills and farmlands. As such, no one area is "blighted" by a preponderance of factories, but employment appears to be abundantly available throughout the State. Additionally, virtually every major Recreational Vehicle (RV) manufacturer has a facility going full-force, in either Elkhart or Goshen. There are dozens of lesser known RV manufacturers cranking out "specialty" vehicles Ranging from Ambulances to Tour Buses, in an untold number of small Northern Indiana communities.

At the suggestion of the folks at the Forest River factory, we rode Northwest to the town of "Shipshewana", to visit what has to be the largest Antique & Livestock Auction and Flea Market in the country. Up until now, we considered the Flea Market in Bradenton, FL to be the largest we knew of. However, Shipsheqana is easily twice the size of Bradenton. The Amish and Mennonites run most of the booths and a couple of take-out restaurants on the premises. As you can imagine, there is a tremendous amount of farm produce and home-baked "goodies" on sale here. For lunch (yes, we grudgingly had to pay for lunch), we had great Broasted Chicken and the best Strawberry Rhubarb Pie that I have ever had, and at that,one slice was more than large enough for Bobbi and me to share. The produce was gorgeous looking, and unbelievably cheep. Most of the produce vendors had sliced or sectioned pieces out as "Free (there's that lovely word, again) Samples", which Bobbi and I took full advantage of. The Vine Ripened Tomatoes were absolutely delicious, and were selling for only $2.00 a (4 - 6 piece) bunch, or $3.00 a basket.

In addition to food-stuffs, there were lots of vendors selling Tools, Farm Implements, Crafts, and the usual selection of Antiques and plain old "Crap". The Crafts, were an eclectic selection of things that had been made out of different things grown on a farm or (in a couple of cases) home and lawn decorations made out of old or broken farm implements. Some of these were very cleaver. Both in the open Market and in adjacent buildings, there were examples of hand-made furniture, the prices for which (understandably) reflected the hundreds of man-hours that had gone into making some of them.

After leaving the Flea Market (and again when Bobbi decided she needed to buy some Amish clothing) we just ambled down secondary roads through little Hamlets where it looked like time had just stood still for a hundred years. Some of these town were Middlebury (with its Victorian Brick Store-fronts), Lagrange, Valentine, Rome City, Ligonier, and New Paris. We stopped for a clod drink at a small family restaurant/bar. When I went to pay for my beer and Bobbi's ice tea, The lady behind the bar asked me if I was a Veteran. When I told her that I was, she said that drinks were half price to Vets. To our delight, we have seen a lot of that attitude throughout the Midwest.

Today, we are heading into Michigan, to collect another dip-dot for the Harley and to get the flavor of that State, before heading down to the Dayton, Ohio area for the weekend. Then its back to Goshen on Tuesday to have some more preventative maintenance work done on the trailer. From there, we will be ambling back East, toward NH, by what ever route grabs our interest. However, at some point, we are hoping to stop in Warren, OH, to visit Craig's Norwich roommate, Don Loomis and his family.

Now that we are on the homeward leg of our travels, we have mixed emotions. On the one hand, it will be nice to settle back into our own home for a while, and get some things accomplished. On the other hand, it means a (temporary) end to being free to wander the land at will. Once you have tasted "Wander Lust" its pretty hard to not want to see what is over the next hill, even if you have to go searching for a hill. Even Bobbi has adjusted to a "Gypsy" lifestyle.

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We have been in Indianapolis now for a few days and will be moving on this afternoon. Yesterday, we toured the Indianapolis area on the Harley, winding up at the Indianapolis Speedway, home of the Indianapolis "500". While Bobbi was only mildly interested, I found the whole experience fascinating. Riding around the track, even in a small tour coach at 40 mph, was a great experience. The museum is inexpensive and extremely well done. They have "Indy" race cars on display, dating from 1911 through to this years winning car, and nearly everything in between. Just seeing the advances in automotive suspension makes you appreciate the contribution that racing makes to the cars we drive on the roads. In addition to the race cars (some of which were even diesel powered), there are more than a few classic road cars, motorized wagons, and a few choice motorcycles (the first vehicles to race on this track). There is one Manx Norton (motorcycle) on display, that I would love to own, or al least get to ride.

The second floor of the museum is devoted to the track photography department. There are unbelievable racing pictures on display, including one sequence of photos that clearly shows the near total disintegration of a modern race car, flying backwards through the air, with the drivers legs sticking out, clear up to his hips, where the forward section had been torn away. Remarkably, this driver broke no bones and escaped with only a minor head injury. After he had recovered from this, he returned to the next year's race as a spectator, and posed for a publicity photo. Ironically, six months after that photo was taken, the driver was killed in a traffic accident (go figure).

By the time we left the track it was three O'clock, and we were starving. "Banker" Bobbi wouldn't hear of us eating at the track snack bar, because of what she regarded as high prices. Instead, we jumped back on the Harley and headed off in search of a restaurant that would meet Bobbi's price requirements. About a half a mile from the track I spotted a Biker Bar with a big sign boasting of "Good Food". Knowing how cheep (broke) bikers can be, I pulled in and parked at the end of a row of Harleys, before Bobbi could object too loudly about "stopping at some dirty bar room".

On the way in, we had to pass a couple of groups of people eating and drinking at picnic tables outside the door. Passing by them, we "ran a gauntlet" of "Brothers" giving me " high fives" and "what's Happenins". By the time we got inside, Bobbi was pumped-up to her second highest level of "bull-shit" (the highest level is reserved for me spending money without permission). However, all of that anger and my apprehension quickly disappeared, and she became just as sweet as could be. Believe it or not, it turned out that this Bar was having IT"S Customer Appreciation Day celebration and was featuring a "FREE", all-you-can-eat Buffet.

("Eureka"! Our second free meal in a many days!) Well, this was right up "Banker" Bobbi's alley; BBQ Ribs, Pulled Pork, Chicken, Home Made Baked Beans, and Fresh Boiled Spinach-n-Bacon (a house specialty); and best of all; it was all FREE. Bobbi was so pleased (with the price of lunch) that she even allowed me to have a second beer and didn't even "scowl" at any of the scruffy Biker-Babes on our way out.

This is "Great"! I suspect that if we stayed here in Indianapolis, we could "camp" at Wal-Mart, and scrounge free meals all over the city, leaving gasoline and toilet paper as our only expenses (come to think of it, I could probably "scrounge" enough of the latter from Wal-Mart and gas stations.), and we haven't even tried to "mooch" anything off the Salvation Army, , , , Yet!

We will be heading to Ohio next, on our (eventual) way back home, but may be making a "detour" to Elkhart, IN, to the Forest River factory. There are a couple of things not working on our new trailer that we would like to get fixed, and the factory is probably as convenient as any dealership, and far more interested in our being satisfied. (Besides, we may be able to get the factory to provide a FREE lunch.)

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We left the "Hotel D' Wal-Mart" in Clarksville, KY, this morning and drove up to Indianapolis, ID, leaving Kentucky (and all the rain) behind us. However, I failed to mention how really nice Kentucky is. Where there aren't rolling hills with horse pastures on them, there are thick green forests, much like Southern Vermont, Central New Hampshire, and Northwestern Maine. There is an almost absolute absence of any trash along the roads, and we can't recall seeing any graffiti in any of the cities or towns.

We were exposed to a new taste treat in Kentucky; a local thick stew or soup called "Burgoo" (BUR-goo). This delightful concoction contains no less than three types of meat; pork, chicken, and beef, and a whole bunch of vegetables and spices (it originally included squirrel meat instead of today's beef). It cooks for several hours and goes through several steps. We managed to photograph a copy of Colonel Blanton's Original Recipe to (hopefully) make a batch at home. Considering that the recipe calls for a 4 - 5 pound chicken (plus beef, pork, and a host of other ingredients), you can imagine how large a batch this makes. Therefore, you ALL can expect to be invited over to our house to try some with us, when we get back home.

With some of the friendliest people we have met in our travels, some of the nicest scenery in America, and lots of rivers and lakes to swim in, Kentucky is a great place to spend a summer vacation.

We arrived in Indianapolis at just about noon on the first sunny day we had seen in two and a half weeks. We left the highway where our Harley Davidson Atlas indicate there was a Harley Shop, "Southside Harley Davidson of Indianapolis", to collect another "Dip-Dot" (Stick-on Metal Shop Logo that we collect).

They say that, "In life, timing is everything"! Well, our timing couldn't have been better. This shop was having its "Customer Appreciation Day" celebration, and what a "Blow-out" it was. There were literally hundreds (if not thousands) of bikes and bikers on hand, with several vendors, and a really great local live Blues Band playing from an outdoor stage under a giant white tent. We "sneaked" around the corner and into a lumber company parking lot, changed into our "Bad-duds" (including "Mama's" Snake River Harley Davidson, Sleeveless T, and my Nashua Harley Davidson shirt), unloaded the Harley, and road it into the middle of the "Organized Mayhem", like we owned the place. This was a big-deal event, with no expenses spared.

The Shop sponsors several local (AMA), Harley mounted, racers from Vintage Motocross, Hill Climb, Vintage Road Racing, and Flat Track. All of these riders (some dozen or so) had their race machines on display. There was even one real "Old Buck" (even older than me) buzzing around in a vintage "duster", backwards "scully", goggles, and "puttees", on an unrestored, 1912 Harley. However, the really unexpected Big Deal was all the tables heaped with (FREE) FOOD, being fed by a dozen big dudes working on flaming charcoal grills; and we hadn't eaten lunch yet, and only had a granola yogurt ("UGH"!) for our "breakfast".

We guzzled all of the free soda we could drink and then ate our fill of (FREE) Hot Dogs, Chili Dogs, Cheese Burgers (with ALL the "fixens"), Delicious BBQ Ribs, Sweet Cole Slaw, Regular or BBQ Chips, Fresh Melon, platters of Home made Sugar, Peanut Butter, and Chocolate Chip Cookies, and Fresh Giant Strawberries! What a treat, and "Banker Bobbi" was overjoyed by the price (or lack thereof)! Despite the enormous crowd, they were still serving "seconds" at 4:00, when we finely left to re-load the Harley and go find an RV Park for the weekend.

We heard from a "local" in a gas station, that there is some kind of Off-road Motorcycle and ATV Event being held tomorrow, at the Indianapolis Fair Grounds. We plan on leaving early in the morning to go to see the Speedway, by way of this event. Could be another full day. We'll see just how "Free" we can make it. We are getting so good at "finding" free food and events that we could stay out forever on nothing, if we could just get free gas.

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"Hay", Al Moses! Are you still alive and at Kollmorgen? I haven't heard from you since we left NH. Sorry Ralph; time and circumstances wouldn't allow us to look up your friend here, but I was pleased to get your voice-mail message. I'll be in touch.

We hung around Louisville a little longer than we expected. On Wednesday, we "crashed" the North American RV Rally at the Louisville Fair and Exposition Center. We didn't realize that all "Good Sam" members (and members of certain other RV groups) were supposed to pay a hefty (week-long) Registration Fee to get on the grounds with their rigs ("visitors" were allowed in by paying a $4. parking fee, plus a $10. admission charge. Although we ARE Good Sam members, we did not register and pay the Members Weekly Registration Fees, we DID pay these parking and admission fees on Wednesday, spent the entire day roaming through acres of RVs and RV related "goodies", and eventually bought an air-bag pin-box (trailer hitch) for our new trailer. As they were already "booked-up" with installations for the rest of Wednesday (and we had left the trailer 50 miles away in Frankfort, KY), so we made arrangements to have our unit installed early yesterday (Thursday) afternoon.

On Thursday we hauled our trailer from Frankfort to the Louisville Fairgrounds, where were got in simply by saying we had "returned to have an accessory installed on our trailer. We paid neither Parking or Admission Fees, and simply "squatted" in a lot close to the vendor's pin-box display so we would be easy for them to find. We checked in with the vendor gave them our cell phone number so that they could call us when they were ready to install our unit, and went back to the display venues to amuse ourselves. As it turns out, they wouldn't be able to install our unit until early evening, and wouldn't need us to do the job. We ate dinner in the trailer and then just walked into the evening's activities, which were culminated with a 3 hour concert by "The Oakridge Boys (of "Elvira" fame). We had no idea just how entertaining this group could be. They had everyone clapping in rhythm one minute, and sniffing with tears in their eyes, the next minute; including Bobbi and me.

At one point, the spokesman for The Oakridge Boys announced a song by saying that "Our President" had requested that "we sing this particular selection" ("Amazing Grace"), at a Presidential Affair that they had been asked to perform for. The Spokesman added "just how pleased and proud they were" to "finely have a president who would request such a spiritual song at a formal Presidential function". This comment quite literally "brought the house down" with applause from 12,000 RVers. Out here in "Middle America", George W. Bush is held in the highest regard, with genuine "affection and approval"; so much so that it's hard to imagine just who it was that ever voted for Bill Clinton, who (along with "Hillary The Carpetbagger"), is still the brunt of very crude and disrespectful jokes. It is our observation that, outside of the Liberal Northeast and California, the bulk of the county's dominant "conservatives" constantly deride the liberals and liberal policies. Every major highway out here has "Right to Life" Billboards all along the way, promoting full term delivery and adoption as the moral alternative to "Murdering Live Unborn Babies". Additionally, the Tax reduction is viewed as only fair if its "a dollar returned for each dollar paid" reduction, regardless of income or tax bracket.

Friday morning we "pulled up stakes" and hauled the trailer over to the Churchill Downs Museum and Race Track. The Museum and Track tour of this 125 year old "Shrine to Horse Racing" was well worth the price of admission, and took all morning. After the tour we went into the Paddock Restaurant for drinks and lunch, which included the mistake of order the "Drink of the Day" (Mint Juleps), without ever having had them before. In our ignorance we had expected these to taste something like Peppermint Patty Candy. "Boy", what a shock! Bobbi simply refused to drink hers, after her first strong taste of bourbon. I did finish mine however, but didn't order another.
After lunch we made our way to the stands, bought a Program and settled in to watch the races. After watching the first race and getting a "primmer" on the "intricacies of betting on the ponies", we made some win-place-show selections for the 2nd and 3rd races. Bobbi had me make some bets for her for the 2nd race and I made bets on the 3rd. Bobbi Lost; I won exactly what she lost plus what I had bet (plus 88 cents "profit", so we called it a day, ordered a shuttle and headed back to our remotely parked truck and trailer.

When we got back to the trailer, we noticed for the first time that the newly installed pin-box was "bending up" and hitting the fiberglass chin of the trailer's nose cap, so I disconnected the trailer from the truck and cut the pin-box's offending steel "shoulders" back (by about half an inch), to clear the chin. When we reattached the trailer to the truck, the pin-box settled even more, and was still resting up against the fiberglass "chin". We called the pin-box vendors on his cell phone, who was (by then), many miles away. As we had no intention of traveling any further with a defective hitch (that could fracture the trailer's frame), I strongly suggested that the vendor "alter his plans", come to Churchill Downs, and remove his pin-box from our trailer. That having been done, we headed North, toward Indiana and another "Hotel Wall-Mart". It's just one great "adventure" right after another.
We will send this when we can locate another RV park with a data-port.

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Bobbi and I have been spending the last few days based in Sevierville, TN, just southwest of Knoxville, and deep in the heart of the Great Smoky Mountains. The main road here (US Rt. 441), runs south through Pigeon Forge (Home of "Dollywood"), and Gatlinburg, on into the Great Smoky Mountain National Park. The "Strip" through this three town area is becoming a combination of Myrtle Beach, SC (amusement parks, rides, cheap stores, etc.)and Branson, MO (theaters dedicated to specific entertainers, Factory Outlet Stores, etc.), with entertainment venues all along the 2 lane road. The resulting traffic jams at "Show Time" are horrendous. However, the Recession has already closed more than a few of the attractions and several of the retail businesses. However, one of the attractions that seems to be thriving is the 1/4 scale NASCAR race track, with 1/4 scale "stock" cars. In keeping with the pervading temperament of the "Piedmont" area, everyone visiting here wants to be a NASCAR driver, if only at 1/4 the size and 1/10 the speed.

Once you get south beyond Gatlinburg, and well into the National Park, the forest is as thick as any we have seen. If you saw the movie "Deliverance", you can imagine our impression of the woods and the few people who live in them. The roads through the "Smokies" are so serpentine that they make the Kancamagus Highway (in New Hampshire's White Mts.), look like an "on-ramp to the New Jersey Turnpike".

I had read of a section of twisty road around here called "The Dragon". with the help of some locals, we found this section of US Route 129 which skirts the National Park and runs from the hamlet of Pumpkin Center through Deal's Gap to Fontana Village. At the end of Deal's Gap we discovered the only "Motorcycles Only" restaurant and campground, that we have ever seen. several times, "squids" on "Rice-Rockets" passed us like we were "tied to a tree". We were told that there have been a couple of fatalities on this stretch of road, every year. After having seen several places where a bike had over-run a corner onto the grass, we have no reason not to believe this. Some of the "switchbacks" in this road proved to be so tight that they are actually full circles that cross over (bridge) or tunnel under themselves. This type of road is repeatedly encountered on many sections of the Blue Ridge Parkway, as it bisects the National Park (in Tennessee) and the Cherokee Indian Reservation (in North Carolina). Some of the Parkway tunnels running through hills and ridges in the mountains are hundreds of feet long, and are "as dark as a fat lady's arm-pit". This comes as a real "shock" when you turn a bend only to find yourself entering such a tunnel on a motorcycle at 40+ mph, especially while wearing sunglasses. The first time this happened to us, we both "grew an inch while still sitting in our seats".

Once deep into the forest surrounding the Parkway, the road climbs up and down steep passes and "gaps" in the heavily fog shrouded mountains, some of which range as high as 7000 feet above sea level. It's this fog shrouding that gave the name "Smoky Mountains" to this area (and it was particularly rainy and foggy the day we rode through). At some places along the road the yellow centerline was the only thing visible through the fog. This was just a little disconcerting on a motorcycle, especially with a passenger. However, through large gaps in the low-hanging clouds, the views of the surrounding misty mountains were spectacular and much like the views from the top of the Roxbury or Lincoln Gap roads, in Central Vermont.

We rode the Harley down the Parkway to the village of Maggie Valley,NC. From Maggie Valley, we planned to take NC Route 19 to the city of Asheville, North Carolina. Like most of the more interesting things we have seen over the past year, we literally stumbled onto another unexpected attraction on our way through Maggie Valley. This attraction was the little-known "Wheels Through Time" all-American Transportation Museum. This 38,000 sq. ft. museum houses a few truly choice selections of vintage automobiles, including some very obscure marquis that I was not familiar with. However, the major attraction for us were the hundreds of vintage motorcycles on display, many in running condition. Dozens of competition bikes are displayed in the condition they were in when they came off the track. Along with most of the competition machines are mementos, articles, and other documentation relating to some of the people who rode them to fame (or infamy). Obscure and long-gone brands such as Indian, Henderson, Excelsior, Pope, Cleveland, a Flying Markel (found cemented up inside the wall of a building under demolition), and several names that I can't even recall, are displayed in pristine as well as unrestored condition. I suspect that this place has nearly as many vintage Harley Davidsons as Harley itself. A few of the more exotic machines and side-car rigs came from the Steve McQueen collection, including an original Harley three-wheeled "Touring Coach", with a full roof on it (of all things).

Spread over two floors, there are nine categories of bikes to be seen; Veteran Bikes (1903 - 1926), Military Bikes (WW I & WW II), Art Deco Bikes (1926 - 1939), One of a Kind Bikes, Post War Bikes (1946), Board Track Racers, Hillclimbers, Speedway Machines, and Special Interest Bikes (including Flat-trackers and road-racers), including the late Cal Rayburn's WR 750 Harley. there are even two complete vintage "Bike Shops" set up inside the main building. These "shops" are complete with service items, literature, and shop tools, as well as disassembled machines "under repair" (which indeed some actually are). Staring through one of the open widows, you almost expect to see a "Biker" being waited on by some grizzled old-timer in greasy coveralls. I can remember a few old shops in the Boston area back in the 60s, that dated back to the late 40s and looked much like these; particularly, Sam ("The Bandit") Avalino's Royal Enfield Shop in Revere, MA, "Mack" MacCarney's Triumph in Everett, MA, and "Pete Andrews Cycle", a particularly eclectic shop in Roxbury. In all, there are some 250 rare antique American motorcycles dating from 1903 to the present day, 90% of which are still operated regularly. The oldest bike is a 1903 Indian discovered 80 miles from the original Springfield Massachusetts factory.

When we finely got to Asheville, NC we were surprised to see what a large city it is, especially as the city appears to be rising right out of the surrounding forest. Newer buildings all but obscure the few remaining antebellum structures. However, the city square in the center of "uptown" retains the flavor of the "Old South" (except for the Heavy Metal, Marilyn Manson lookalikes with pierced everthings, lounging around the Civil War cannons). However, like most of the cities we have visited around the country, we were struck by the number of Asheville businesses that have been shut down or forced out by the current recession.

One of the brighter and better known attractions, in Asheville, is the 250 acre, "Biltmore Estate". As seen on the Discovery Channel's "Castles of America" series, this multi-structured estate is one of the best examples of the opulent lifestyle and extreme wealth of the pre-Depression "Captains of American Industry". The "Crown Jewell" set in the middle of this expansive estate is its 250-room French chateau filled with priceless art and antiques, surrounded by spectacular gardens, including a vineyard that produces award winning vintages. Completed by Cornealius Vanderbilt in the latter part of the 19th century and opened to the public in 1895 by his youngest son, George, the chateau contains 33 bedrooms, 43 bathrooms, and 65 fireplaces as part of some four acres of spectacular floor space. Vanderbilt traveled the world to furnish his home: art by Renoir, Whistler, and Sargent; exquisite 16th century tapestries; and 23,000 books in nine languages. Modern technologies, especially for the time, including telephones and electric lights, provided unequalled comfort for his family and friends.

This estate is now a wholly commercial enterprise, featuring (very expensive) tours, over-night accommodations, multiple dining venues (including the chateau itself (for parties of 20 or more), Riding Stables, Carriage Rides, River Float Trips and Kayaking, miles of scenic Hiking Trails, and several unique shops to spend your money in. As a self-supporting "business" it receives no government support, and is maintained in a perfect state of repair, so I suppose that justifies the exorbitant prices; that and it keep out the "Great Unwashed ", as it is afforded only by the relatively "affluent", who can appreciate these "cultured surroundings".

When we left Asheville, we took I-40 north toward Knoxville instead of retracing our slower route through the National Park. Despite the fact that I-40 is a multi-lane, Interstate Highway, it is as "twisty" as any secondary road in New England, and few of its "straight-aways" are any longer than a few hundred feet. Sooooo, it was a REAL treat to spend a few hours "blasting" along in the warm sun at 60 - 70 mph, constantly turning left and right, in perfect rhythm with the hills that the highway passes through.

We left Tennessee on Saturday, heading into Kentucky for a while. Therefore, we probably won't have access to a data-port for a while, to send this. We will write more later.
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We apologize for being out of touch for so long, but (in addition to having very little to write about), we have been unable to get access to a data-port since our e-mail of the 1st, and still don't have one as of today (6/9/03). However, we are still in North Florida (about 40 miles from Georgia, on I-75), after three trips back to Tampa from Titusville, Ocala, and Bradenton.

The reason for these multiple trips back to Tampa was a decision to trade our 2001 32' "Tailgator" trailer, for a 2004 Sierra, 38' "Toybox" with full living room/dinette, and bedroom "slide-outs". Its as roomy as a small house and can sleep 8 people (12 people, if we use the grandkids folding cots, in the rear cargo bay), and has an on-board 5.5KW generator with a 50 amp service, to support tow A/Cs and a bunch of appliances.

The trip to Titusville was initially to visit my cousin, Joan (Fournier) Voeghlin, whom I have not seen for some 50 years. Her mother and my father were brother and sister. It will not be another 50 years before we see each other again. I look forward to the possibility of her coming to New England, early in the Fall.

The trip from Titusville back to Tampa was (a detour) to return to the RV dealer in Tamps to have the (inside) generator control fixed. The trip from Ocala back to Tampa was to have the power supplies for the main A/C and the Microwave oven repaired (loose grounds). as a result of these return trips and our initial stay to transfer our belongings (what a job), we had to spend a few nights "camped out" in the dealers lot.

While the price (free) of "camping" in an RV dealer's lot was certainly "right", I was sorely tempted to try out my new pistol and shoot the *#% #$%* rooster (that serves as the lot's "watchdog) for crowing under our trailer, at 4:30 O'clock, every damn morning! I could tell by the look it that rooster's beady little eyes and his arrogant "strut", that he was taking particular delight in getting away with waking me up three hours earlier than any retiree should have to.

All of that leaves us some 24 hours behind ourselves, and about 50 gallons of gas "lighter". All of these problems not-with-standing, we are very pleased with the new "rig", and look forward to spending a great deal of time in it, over the next few years.

We are (finely) heading for Knoxville, TN / Asheville, NC to ride the Blue Ridge Parkway, especially it's notorious 11 mile corkscrew beginning, and will write when we have more to tell.

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Monday, Cinco de Mayo,

Ola Amigo e Amiga Gringos,
Yesterday we arrived at the Gulfcoast/Biloxi, Mississippi Beaches, and what a surprise this area has proven to be. This strip of beach is much more beautiful and far less "spoiled" than we had expected. Based on Myrtle Beach, Most of Florida's Atlantic Coast, Cape Cod, Old Orchard Beach, etc., this beach is uniquely unspoiled/well preserved. A half dozen floating casinos not-with-standing, there are no buildings between the shore road (Rt. 90) and the open Gulf of Mexico. As of this writing, about half of the 25 mile of the length of the connected beaches is temporarily closed, so that the Leased Terns can nest undisturbed by bathers, and no one seems to mind. There is even a lighthouse dating from the mid 19th century, located right in the middle of the median strip between the East/ West lanes of route 90, not 100 yards from open water. The on-ramp from route 90 up onto Interstate 110 actually arcs out across the open beach and into the open ocean before curving back to the north. There are even well groomed lawns under all of the raised roadways of the Biloxi area Interstate Highways, and a distinct lack of trash or graffiti; How come?

Yesterday afternoon we found a (free) parking space at the seaside edge of the parking lot for the Treasure Bay Casino. This gave us a "front yard" of pure white sand and sea grass, no more than 75 yards from the surf. As hot as it was last night, we slept comfortably with all of our windows open to catch a strong off-shore breeze. However, Before "hitting the feathers" we sat at the bar in the casino and parlayed a $20.00 bill into $73.00 playing Bonus Poker. for us, this was a big deal and our most successful attempt to gamble in many years. Bobbi even threw down three Strawberry Daiquiris while she was playing (and giggling), a "first" for her.

Today, we unloaded the Harley and toured the Gulfport/Biloxi area, including a two hour visit to the Jefferson Davis Presidential Museum at "Beauvoir" the seaside Home where the President of the Confederacy lived at the time of his death and where he is buried.

After having a couple of hours to read (and read of) some of Jefferson Davis' more analytical political opinions, I came away feeling that Davis made an overwhelmingly compelling argument in support of "States Rights" and "Seccession" (the Slavery issue not-with-standing), just based on his literal interpretation of the Constitution of The United States. More especially, under the political circumstances faced by the Southern States at the time. It is of little wonder that there were many "Southern Sympathizers" in the North (and visa versa).. In retrospect, it would have been extremely easy for me to find strong conviction for supporting the position of either side in the war.

It's just difficult to understand how Jefferson Davis could have been a "Democratic" United States Senator from Mississippi and a United States Secretary of War, prior to the Civil War, when his conservative interpretation of the U.S Constitution was wholly a Republican "less government" view. Considering his lifetime of military and public service to The United States (prior to the War), It is to the discredit of the US Government that, at the time of Davis' death, he was and he remains to this day, "the only former Secretary of War, for whom the U.S. flag was not flown a half staff".

Beauvoir's Greek Revival architecture, antebellum grace and charm are more typical of the Mississippi Delta region than the Gulf Coast. In fact, it was built in the early 1800s by a wealthy Mississippi planter-entrepreneur by the name of James Brown, as a Summer "Cottage" at the shore for his up-river family. Originally, Davis was the "houseguest" of the subsequent owner (one Sarah Dorsey, after his release from prison, and while his wife, Varina, was in Europe and New Orleans visiting their daughter (Hmmm). Davis came into possession of the entire estate when it was bequeathed to him after the death of his "benefactor" and friend, Mrs. Dorsey. The main house, its beautiful out-buildings and the 14 acres of perfectly groomed grounds, studded with massive old Oaks (some nearly 300 years old), was turned into a Confederate Solders Home and Hospital in 1903, following the death of the last of the President's family. At its peak, the Confederate Soldiers' Home and Hospital accommodated up to 24 people in its dormitory, with up to another 24 - 30 patients in the small Veteran's Hospital. Additionally, the grounds now include a Confederate Veteran's Cemetery where the souls of 771 Confederate Veterans and Veteran's wives, are laid to rest. It is also the site of the Confederate Tomb of The Unknown Soldier.

After spending a couple of hours learning about Jefferson Davis "the man", Bobbi and I are convinced that very few historical American figures were as true to their convictions and principals or as misunderstood as Jefferson Davis, often to his own detriment. After the war, Davis was imprisoned for three years, without a trial, but was ultimately released without charges of Treason, or complicity in the death of Abraham Lincoln (as some alleged), ever being lodged against him. However, as "punishment" for his participation in the Secessionist Movement, Davis' citizenship in the United States of America had been revoked by Washington when he became the President of the Confederacy. All he had to do to receive a pardon and reinstatement of his full citizenship was to apologize. Believing that he had nothing to apologize for, he refused. His citizenship was only restored "posthumously" in the 1980s, fittingly by (then) U.S. President, Jimmy Carter, of Georgia.

The rest of our day was spent riding the bike up the coast to the little Mississippi sea-side town of "Ocean Springs", and back. Ocean Springs is a lot like Ogunquit, Maine would (could) be, if it hadn't become a commercial "tourist trap". This town's quaint charm is still very much intact. Despite the great heat and humidity, the entire down-town and old cottage areas were washed with a cooling sea breeze and comfortably shaded by massive Oaks, some hundreds of years old.

Tuesday, May 6th

Today we packed up and left our free sea-side (casino parking lot) "Resort in Biloxi", and drove Northeast to Mobile Alabama. We picked up another "Dip-Dot" souvenir from the Mobile Harley Davidson shop, and headed out to find the USS Alabama Military Memorial. In addition to the Battleship, the Memorial features the USS Drum, a WW II submarine. After spending a half hour in the cramped, confined areas below decks on this Sub, Bobbi and I were both more than ready to get back out in the open air. However, we left with a new-found respect for those men who fight our wars from beneath the surface of the sea, living in damp spaces too small for most people to stand for any more than an hour or so, much less months at a time on patrol, far out to sea.
Imagining a depth-charge attack, and the possible consequence of being hit, conjures up images of a fate too horrible to contemplate.

The Battleship, "Alabama" is one massive ship with three turrets of three sixteen inch guns on each turret. Each of these nine guns is capable of firing a 2000 lb. projectile some 23 miles to its target, with near pin-point accuracy, and all of that using "Computerized" Fire Control Systems, built more than 60 years ago. The confined space that gunners had to work and fight in required a rare breed of man. The interior of these massive turrets is even more cramped and confining than the duty stations on the smallest submarines. Heaven only knows where the Navy found qualified men who were willing to fight inside these spaces.

The Alabama is displayed as being "moored" in a man-made "lagoon", with a concrete and steal seawall constructed all around the ship to keep the open ocean out of the "lagoon". This lagoon has now been drained so that the ship is sitting in the mud and a dredge is attempting to scrape or dig the mud away from the ship's hull. It seems that the Alabama is leaking quantities of old fuel oil into Mobile Bay. Workers intend to (somehow) replace some of the more porous hull plates. a HASMAT company is also involved in attempting to pump out the bulk of the oil that has become as thick as molasses, over time.

The self-guided tour of the Alabama is in three stages, so that visitors can get to see and experience every level of the ship, and get a glimpse of every wartime activity. However, an entire afternoon is required to walk/climb all three stages. void of personnel and considerable fixtures and equipment, the Alabama seems almost "comfortable", compared to the nearby submarine. It isn't until you closely consider the living space allotted to the common Seaman that you can appreciate how truly cramped even a ship of this size will become with a full complement of personnel and all of the stores required to support them and their mission. The most lasting impression is the humidity and oppressive heat below decks in the living quarters, and especially the repair shops and engine rooms. However, one can easily imagine how cold and miserable it could get above decks in a winter storm.

The most striking reminder of the Alabama's purpose is the bridge area. Unlike the "bridge" pictured in (whitewashed) movies, the Captain and bridge crew (Helmsman, etc.) do not stand behind a bank of windows. Rather, they are "encased" within a 6" thick bridge turret with only 2" slits to see through, and even this is behind a more conventional looking forward area that has no glass windows or any navigational equipment except for a Forward Observer's telephone and emergency voice "pipe".

We left the Memorial at its 4:00 O'clock closing time, and drove over to the Pensacola, Florida area and a "Hotel WalMart".

More later,
Fred & Bobbi

Thursday May 8th

Hello again,
After leaving the Pensacola WalMart, we spent most of the day yesterday motoring East along Rt. 98, the Gulf Coast road. At one point in the late afternoon, we came upon a small group of cars (including a Police cruiser and a Wildlife Ranger). They had all stopped to watch a group of Manatees, just off shore. In the first place, its is extremely unusual for Manatees to be out in open waters. Some local people later told us that they NEVER venture out into open salt water. At first, it looked like five or six slightly smaller animals were trying to force one much larger, sick animal to the surface to breath. The Wildlife Ranger told us that what we were seeing was Manatees mating by the smaller bulls getting together to force a cow down against a bank or the bottom so that they could all take turns mating with her. (While, in the same situation, I COULD appreciate the assistance, personally, I would hate the lack of privacy.)

Just before dark, we located and settled into a small seaside RV Park, miles from any other signs of life. To help beat the heat ( while the A/C tried to cool down the trailer), Bobbi and I went for a walk out on the Park's fishing pier. On the way back we ran into a woman from Atlanta Georgia. We casually mentioned our tour of the Jefferson Davis Presidential Library and how impressed we were with Davis and his political convictions. At this point, we learned that this woman and her husband were Civil War Reinactors who had very strong Confederate convictions and were very scornful of Georgia's adopting a alternate State flag, at the expense of its former "Stars and Bars" Confederate Battle Flag. A few (polite) comments from us, in support of the "Southern View" of a few aspects of current politics, brought fourth a flood of condemnations ranging from the (Reverend?) Al Sharptin's Presidential bid, to the general unworthiness of Jessie Jackson (and most of the other Democratic candidates) for anything greater that Dog Catcher. We were immediately invited to their trailer to "talk some more", and have a few drinks! As it turned out we failed to visit as we had said we would, because we simply had fallen asleep watching TV.

When we took out the Harley this morning, our new friends from Georgia came by to see the bike and to renew their invitation. As we can't see any graceful way out of it, we will put on our sheets, mask and pointed cap, and drop over for a while.

We spent the morning riding the Harley around the "loop" of roads around the Apalatchacola National Forest. Much of this area shows the clear signs of the extensive forest fires that plagued Florida over the past several years, until last fall's heavy rains. At noon we tucked into a local seafood restaurant for lunch. While Bobbi had Ribs, I had the best fried oysters that I have ever had (and I have been very "romantic" ever since).

After lunch, we rode the Causeway out of Eastpoint, FL. to Saint George Island and explored this little-known resort area. Based on the feverish building going on, this island won't be obscure very long. However, virtually EVERY house and condominium is either "For Rent" or "For Sale". It looks like the "recession" is forcing many seasonal residents to liquidate their non-essential holdings. There is one whole area where a developer is building Waterfront Townhouses, on stilts (like most of the homes here). However, to maximize the use of very limited land, these houses are only a couple of yards apart, only one room wide, but three stories high. This makes for an "interesting" skyline, and a distinct lack of an ocean view for nonresidents (man is such a clever animal when it comes to optimizing land use, whether we need more homes, or not).

We expect to be on the road for a few days, so we may not be able to write another Update until we get to Bobbi's Sister's house in Bradenton. We plan on shunning the major highways and stick to the Gulf side coastal roads, to see what adventures we can run into.

One very interesting thing that we have just become conscious of is the "attraction" that the Harley has for a wide variety of people. On the one hand, most of the "affluent" people we run into (especially in our age group) unanimously seek us out and express an envy of and admiration for our apparent lifestyle. Conversely, we are made welcome and comfortable in the most off-beat biker-bars, and alternative life-style settings. With our bike as our "credentials", we are able to travel among, and be comfortable with people of all social levels (Jack Karowak, "eat your heart out").

More Later (and don't forget to write),
Happy Mother's Day,
Fred & Bobbi

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Hi Folks,
This update will have to be a "Quickie" (we all remember what a "Quickie" is, don't we?), because we only have an hour to get packed up, hooked up, and get out of this RV park before they charge us for another day, and after having gotten all of the parking tickets we did in the French Quarter, Bobbi is determined not to waste another dime.

We arrived in New Orleans from Baton Rouge on Wednesday, found an RV park (Ironically, the same one we stayed in with Bobbi's Sister and Brother-in-law some years ago.), unloaded the Harley and proceeded to try to find our way around town. It's just a little frustrating to go to town after town and struggle to learn our way around, only to pack up, head for another town, only to start the familiarization process all over again. We spent most of Wednesday evening just exploring the streets near the river.

Thursday morning we found a place to park the Harley near the Cafe du Monde and sat drinking coffee and eating Beignets at an outdoor table to watch the parade of people. When we returned to the bike we found a parking ticket for $20. jammed into the seat but no tickets on either of the two cars in front or behind us (MeterBitches!). We figured that that $20. ticket was our "Parking Fee" for the day, so we left the bike and spent the day having lunch in a Creole restaurant and shopping the antique shops and tourist-traps around St. Louis Cathedral and Jackson Square. We returned to our park for supper and to settle in to a good movie.

Friday morning I had my hair cut by a "limp wrist" who just fell in love with me, to Bobbi's great amusement. We then rode to the Fair Grounds where the local police were stationed for the Jazz Fest and were allowing a limited number of people to park their motorcycles. Additionally, one of the cops informed us that we wouldn't be allowed to take our video camera onto the grounds and offered to lock it in the trunk of his cruiser while we were gone (obviously, this kind officer was not related to any of the "MeterBitches" giving out parking tickets down town).

What a blast the Jazz Fest was! Instead of having one main stage with different style groups rotating in and out, like the Newport Jazz Festival, there were close to a dozen "venues", each dedicated to a particular type of music, i.e. Jazz, Blues, Gospel, Zydago, Cajun, etc.. Interestingly enough, we recognized one of the promoters of the Jazz Fest, George Weims, who was the promoter of the Newport Festival throughout the 60s. We ate some very exotic Creole food for lunch and spent most of our time in the Blues, Zydago, and Cajun venues, where the crown was having the most fun going wild and dancing, especially to the Cajun music. This sound is so infectious that it's impossible to stand still. Even Bobbi and I "shook a leg" for a while. Come to think of it, the crowd at the Zydago venue was pretty active too. We found a stand under the grandstands that was shucking and selling raw oysters. I had to stand in line for nearly an hour, while Bobbi shared a table and chatted with a couple of Creole women, but the wait was worth it. Louisiana oysters are the sweetest, most tender oysters I have ever had. We sat with these tow women eating oysters, drinking beer and watching a performance of African Jazz on a stage not 20 feet away. It turned out that one of the women had graduated from B. U. and new almost as much about Boston as we do. By the end of the day, we were only too glad to go back to the trailer and crash.

Saturday morning, it was back to the beauty salon so Bobbi could get her hair done, before heading off to the Superdome for a three-day motorcycle show. While we did spend most of the afternoon at the superdome, for us the greatest attraction was the Superdome itself. The "show" was like every other show, except there were no "big five" manufacturers present. By mid-afternoon we got bored and headed back to the French Quarter for more music and hell-raising. We found a place to park the bike (at the end of a line of illegally parked car), and walked from joint to joint in the French Quarter, eventually settling into "Pat O,Brian's" piano bar, just off Bourbon Street. While trying to enjoy the music and a few beers, we spotted a "Metermaid" starting to write up a ticket, so I left Bobbi in the bar, dashed out, unlocked the bike, started it up and began to drive it away before she could give it to me. Not to be discouraged by my hasty exit, said "MeterBitch" just threw the ticket in the general direction of my departing rear fender and calmly walked away. Realizing that ignoring the ticket would not 'make it go away", and that I still had a nice cold beer sitting on a (hard to find) table in Pat O'Brian's, I shut off the bike and simply rolled back into the space it had been previously occupying. A well-meaning pedestrian picked the ticket off the street and handed it to me (with a smirk), and as a reminder that at $25.00, I was parked at one of the most expensive "parking spots" in New Orleans.

From Pat O'Brians we went to the Krazy Korner on Bourbon Street to mingle with the crowd and raise a little hell. Things got so rowdy that tops started to come off of some of the "Ladies", and other people from the audience were taking turns trying to "play" one of the washboards with the band. The drinks were "3 for 1" so it didn't take very long for everyone (except Bobbi and I, of course), to get just a little loose. Shortly before dark we decided that it was time to head out while the getting out was good, located our bike and picked our way down back streets to our RV Park, supper, and an early bed.

Now we are heading out to Biloxi, MS to see what kind of trouble we can get into there. This all sure beats a "Retirement Community or Home".
More Later,
Fred & Bobbi

Hi Gang,
Today, we welcome a new member to our list of regular correspondents, Cliff Smith, a (misguided) Lodge Brother from Byram, MS, and a "True Son of the South", and all-around good guy, with a serious "hankering" for some real New England Maple Syrup.

It turns out that Ben Martin (our friend in CA), has copies of all of our "World Tour" e-mails from September, 2002, onward. From these and everything that follows, we (I) will create a "Journal" of our year-long trip around the country, at the least, or perhaps even use them as a basis for a book, presumably a non-fiction, or possibly expand on and build around actual events to write a fictional novel. In either case, we would like all of your ideas on "titles" or even on potential "plots" for story lines that would utilize all of our experiences and research. Knowing us as most of you do, we would even like you opinion on whether or not we should even attempt such a project.

We spent a good portion of Friday being "entertained" by Earl Rotmann, the very "colorful" owner (and all-around bon-viant), of "Harley Davidson of Jackson, Mississippi". This guy is unbelievable, and perhaps one of the happiest, self-satisfied characters we have ever met.

He sold his only possession (his Harley Davidson motorcycle), 10 years ago to finance his move from New Orleans to Jackson, Mississippi, to "start over". This was following a divorce that cost him everything he owned. Now, he is the sole owner of the largest Harley shop we have ever seen (and we have visited more than most people). In 10 short years he has built his business to a point that he doesn't finance any of the bikes he inventories, but pays cash, COD, for everything in the store. As a former bike shop owner, I can't help but be impressed.

However, 'Crazy Earl's" obvious business abilities are the least of what makes him so unique. Four years ago, in conjunction with the Annual Vietnam War Memorial "Run for the Wall", he started a dealership "reception and send-off" for riders heading for Washington. This "shindig" has grown to the extent that this year he has added a 20,000 square foot balcony for a three day reception and beer-bust. In addition to one outdoor and two outdoor stairs, Earl has installed an elevator to that balcony from the center of the showroom floor. He has also installed a metal "lip" or "overhang", at floor level, outside the balcony rail, to keep "inebriates" who fall over the railing from falling all the way to the ground. In addition to the standard elevator "call" button that one would expect to find at waist level, Earl has installed a second call-button down on both floors, 'at the floor level", because (as Earl tells it), "it's so difficult to have to crawl all the way up to the height of the standard button, when you are shit-faced drunk".

Earl has doubled the 20,000 Sq. Ft. dealership into a 40,000 Sq. Ft. "entertainment center" that also features Harley Davidson Motorcycles, clothing and accessories. This unique Building features all inlay marble slab floors, three functional fireplaces, two lounge areas, a TV lounge and a coffee bar. Outside on the dealership grounds, he has built a complete toilet, shower, and laundry building for the convenience of camping customers who come from all over the South. He has also built a BBQ Pavilion that is complete with a 5' X 30' charcoal grill, two giant smokers, and a 40" hot table/serving line. This facility gets used primarily for his HOG chapter events, dealership "Open House" events, and (for the past three years), this Annual "Trail of Honor" event, in conjunction with the "Ride to the Wall".

Last but not least, Earl has made and graveled a network of walking "roads" in the Hardwood grove behind the dealership. He drove Bobbi and me around this network of graveled trails in his Kawasaki "Mule" to show us the planned layout. At this year's event from (May 17th - 19th), there will be fully staffed and historically accurate living "encampments" all along these trails, duplicating those typical of American Fighting Units in EVERY war ever fought by the United States, from the Revolutionary War to Desert Storm. Hundreds of "reenactors" have committed to participate including Mounted Civil War Cavalry units, both Union and Confederate, and active duty units from the nearby Mississippi National Guard Unit, which has already put artillery pieces on site At the Harley shop, for this event, will maintain a "Bivouac Area" for Desert Storm/Iraqi Freedom. The Confederate Air Force (CAF) has committed several vintage aircraft to fly into the near-by Hawkins Field for the week-end, to which regular shuttle busses will be run from the Shop, and the Air Force will be sending a flight of F-15s for a Missing Man Formation "Fly-by". Even the Mississippi State Police have committed Troopers to escort the biker "parade" all the way from Vicksburg, MS to the Harley Shop in Jackson. The military display within the showroom area, depicts uniforms and equipment ranging from Spanish Colonial Soldiers, through the Revolutionary period, Civil War, Mexican War, to current Army examples. This includes some vintage equipment and vehicles. The Coast Guard has even committed to have helicopters landed on the median area of the I-55 (Exit 92S on-ramp), in front of the dealership.

The shop's immediate business neighbor is a Granger Supply, a sponsor of some of the more notable NASCAR drivers. This company has committed to have several examples of past and current NASCAR cars on their lot for Earl's event, and to sponsor a NASCAR exhibition at a nearby race track. There is much more planned for this incredible three day event, being held in conjunction with American Legion Post # 1, but I'm sure you have grown tired of hearing about it by now. Unfortunately, Bobbi and I have to be on a plane for New Hampshire on the 17th. Otherwise, we would be returning for this event, ourselves. However, anyone able to come to Jackson, MS on the 17th - 19th, will not be disappointed. Just say "HI" to Earl for us, if you do.

The rest of the day was spent exploring down-town Jackson, including a tour of the "Old" State House Museum. In the first place, unlike the bold. brash, even "hostile" atmosphere in much of Memphis,TN, Jackson, MS is just what you would hope a twenty first century, antebellum southern city would have become. Its clean, well kept (despite the obvious harsh impact to Jackson's retail community), and its above all else, "civilized". It has held fast to a strong sense of its heritage and respect for (the best of) its past. Good Manners, both in person and on the road, have not been forgotten here. This is a very gracious town inhabited my very gracious people, at every social level. We were amazed at how easily we were able to ride the Harley around town, even during the 5:00 O'clock "rush hour" (or lack there of). Courtesy was extended at every intersection where our indecision was obvious.

The presentation of the history of Mississippi at the Old State House was sensitive, self-effacing, modest, and in very good taste. It is interesting to consider that a State that was "forced" to rejoin the Union "at gun point", has consistently contributed most enthusiastically to the defense of that Union, often more so than many of its "Northern" neighbors. As Americans, either Confederate or Union, these 'Southerners" have always been and still remain fiercely patriotic. They only ask for the right to honor those few symbols of their "heritage" (the Stars and Bars among them), and that they be allowed to publicly but quietly endure. Down here any tourist will soon see that "Honor, Duty, and Fidelity" are still understood and practiced in the every day lives of most of the multi-racial residents of Jackson. We could enjoy living in this area.

Sunday April 27th
Yesterday we rode the Harley out west to the City of Vicksburg, MS. This town is strategically located at the confluence of the Mississippi and Yazoo Rivers. As such, Vicksburg was able to control all river traffic on the Mississippi in the early days of the Civil War. The Confederate Blockade of the river made it impossible for Northern cities like Chicago to send goods down the river to foreign markets, or to bring goods up the river. By 1862-63 Union forces controlled waterways and ports as far south as Vicksburg, and as far north as Baton Rouge, LA. the historical events that led up to the "Siege of Vicksburg" are much too lengthily and convoluted to bore you with here. However, from the 19th of May until the 4th of July 1863 a more or less continuos battle raged Between Union forces (disproportionately from Illinois), Led by General Grant, and Southern forces led by Lt. Gen. John C. Pemberton, Commander of the Confederate Department of Mississippi and East Louisiana.

After seeing a National Park movie on the battle and the distribution and placement of troops, and collecting "tour" material, we rode the Harley on a 16 mile self-guided tour of a battle field that covers thousands of acres of the rolling hills around Vicksburg. It has been nearly thirty years since we have toured the battlefield at Gettysburg, VA, and time deprives us of an accurate comparison of the sizes of these two battlefields. However, I can not imagine a larger field of action or a death toll greater than resulted at Vicksburg. Today, the entire area is literally a "forest" of monuments and memorials to the various units engaged in combat, both Union and Confederate. Chief among these is a magnificently domed monument from the State of Illinois, for the troop from that state. Conspicuous by its absence is any memorial from Massachusetts, despite that state's participation in the campaign. We locate a very respectable memorial from the state of New Hampshire, located immediately adjacent to the monstrous edifice erected to Gen. Grant. To their great credit, The Southern States have erected equally impressive memorials to their forces.

The adjacent National Cemetery contains the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers, alike, and is the forest of headstones that one would expect after such a battle. Oddly enough, Grant accepted Pemberton's surrender and immediately "paroled" all of the Confederate troops, many of whom (including Pemberton) were absorbed into other Confederate units and continued to fight on.

After lunch we rode south to The town of Port Gibson, MS, at which point we went east a few mile on a county road to pick up the "Natchez Trace Parkway" for a leisurely 60 mile ride back to the Jackson area. In the 18th and 19th century, the Natchez Trace was a rough road between Natchez, Mississippi in the south, to Nashville, Tennessee, in the north. Like the great Appalachian Trail in the East, the Natchez Trace was (originally a "trace" of a buffalo trail) a major trail used by the Natchez, Choctaw, and Chickasaw Indians to carry on trade with one another, over hundreds of years. The early European explorers and settlers used this same route into the western areas so extensively that, by the mid-eighteenth century, the "trace" had become a well worn road that had actually sunk to a depth of 18 - 20 feet below ground level in some places. Today, the Natchez Trace Parkway is a narrow two lane road that roughly parallels the original "Trace" from beginning to end. We were even fortunate enough to find some of the original "sunken Trace" sections, where we were able to walk in the footsteps of the likes of Aaron Burr, Andrew (Stonewall) Jackson, Patrick Nolan, and thousands of their contrmpories. The Section we walked looked exactly like photos I remember having seen, many years ago.

These sections, and for that matter the entire Parkway run through wooded glades and meadows that reflect no modern presence for the entire sixty mile length we explored. There is nether a single telephone pole or even a building to be seen along the Parkway to intrude on a delightful and bucolic landscape. The near absence of any other vehicles only magnified the feeling that we had somehow ridden back in time. At the time we toured the Battlefield and rode the Parkway, it was late Spring and the air was thick with the sweet smell of wild honeysuckle.

The only signs of civilization along the Parkway are the occasional National Park sign indicating things if interest, and the occasional stone bridge across a creek or some "other" obscured road, most of which were unpaved. One such sign led is to a prehistoric Indian Burial Mound. There were several archaeological markers on the mound indicating the bodies and artifact that had been previously uncovered, and described some of the strange practices of the prehistoric Natchez people. This site alone, was well worth the trip to get an education that would otherwise have escaped us.

On the way onto the little road to the Burial Mound, Bobbi had spotted a snapping turtle in the middle of the Parkway that she feared would get run over by a passing car. On the way back out onto the road, she asked me to get it off the roadway. I rode up to what turned out to be an 8" to 10" snapping turtle (far smaller than many others, I have seen). With its head legs, and tail all firmly tucked in, I attempted to gently slide it with my outstretched foot, toward the edge of the road, much like a hockey puck. As the turtle rolled of my toe, it suddenly came alive, and moving much faster that I would have ever believed a turtle could move, turned toward us and "attacked" the Harley's rear wheel, disappearing completely beneath us. I immediately stopped the bike to avoid running over the critter, and sat motionless, wondering just when the turtle was going to give up on my rear tire (or what ever else he was chewing on beneath the bike), and turn his attention to my very vulnerable, outstretched left leg. Finely, after an eternity, it slowing emerged out from under the right side of the Harley, moved off about a foot or two, looked contemptuously over its shoulder at us, tucked all of its appendages back in, and apparently went back to sleep on the warm road surface. This time, we left it to its own devices, secure in the knowledge that it was capable of moving fast enough to escape the wheels of all but the fastest automobile.

the rest of the ride back to our RV Park (south of Jackson), was relatively uneventful, al-be-it "delightful", and another day on the road drew to a close for us. a know, I have forgotten what it feels like to ride the Harley without a passenger up behind me. The only down-side to all of the activity we have engaged in, over the past nine months, is that the time is passing too quickly. We will be back home in no time, and it will all be behind us. At least we will have a dozen photo albums to look through. However, for reasons we just can't explain, we have stopped taking videos of the things we have seen and been doing, in favor of good old-fashioned snapshots.

Today, we are heading south to Baton Rouge, LA, where I'm hoping to get some raw Louisiana Oysters with horseradish, and a heap of "Crayfish Eateauphie". I haven't had these since the Cajun Restaurant in Nashua, NH went out of business. I have had my mouth "watered up" for these for a month or more, but have resisted until we could get to Louisiana, the "Mecca" of such Cajun delights. Bobbi is somewhat less enthusiastic than I am over these dishes, and will probably settle for a plate of Pork Chops with Red Beans and Rice.

More Later,
Fred & Bobbi

Hi All,
One of the things that we forgot to mention before leaving Branson, MO was the impressive giant rollercoaster. This is an all new wooden structure that rambles over many acres of hillside. As such, it's height is magnified considerably ,especially from the valley below. It is the tallest, most extensive rollercoaster that we have ever seen, live, on TV, or in any photograph. In fact, it was so large, that we never considered getting on it (we safely rode the Harley through the Ozarks instead).

We left Branson, Missouri late Monday morning (April 21st), stopping over night at the "Hotel Wal-Mart" in West Plains, Mo.. The next day (Tuesday), we "blew through" Northeastern Arkansas, stopping only in Jonesboro, AK to "scrounge" another Harley Davidson "Dip-Dot" (Stick-on I.D. medallion), and to visit a little town. However, the ride on open-access, two lane highways was a pleasant surprise. The scenery was spectacular! In fact, it was a lot like Northern New England, and nothing like we expected (erroneously based on our personal opinion of Bill Clinton, and our anticipation for any land that could have "spawned" him). At one point, we found ourselves driving down the main street of Harvey, AK, a town "right out of the pages of an Old West Dime Novel, or a Huckleberry Finn story. All of the single story stone or wood frame buildings have over-hanging roofs over raised sidewalks. The only things missing were saddle horses and buckboards tied up to hitching posts. One of the little businesses was a one-man Saddlery/Leather Shop, where I bought a great leather holster for the 45 Automatic that I had previously bought in Arizona.

By late Monday we had arrived in Memphis, TN, and searched out a suitable RV Park. We settled on the Memphis - Graceland RV Resort, immediately adjacent to Elvis Presley's "Graceland" mansion. With a couple of hours of daylight still left, we unloaded the Harley and "felt our way" down-town, eventually to the famous "Beale Street". According to the "locals", this is where the "Blues" was born. Half of Beale Street's old "Honky-Tonks" have fallen victim to the wrecking ball. However, those that remain form a quaint enclave of bars and restaurants much like Bourbon Street, in New Orleans. All along Beale Street there are cast-iron signs dedicating one corner or another to some of the city's "notables", ranging from prominent Blues musicians of the 20s, 30s, and early 40s, to prominent Civil Rights and Women's Rights personalities. A park located mid-way down Beale Street has a large bronze statue of W. C. Handy, the trumpet player and Blues composer, whom many consider to be the "Father of the Blues". Other plaques were dedicate to dozens of Blues notables such as "Howlin Wolf", Ray Charles, and many other Blues "pioneers".

We found a street-side table on the sidewalk (inside the railing), in front of the "Boogie Inn", and sucked down a couple of beers/Marguerites while we watched the locals walk by, and listened to old Blues recordings over the outside sound system (the tension nearly killed us). With a motorcycle as our only transportation back to our trailer, we held ourselves to two drinks over a couple of hours, and headed back out of town, to get a good night's sleep before touring "Graceland".

Wednesday morning we were able to walk out of the back corner of our RV Park, right into the Graceland Complex. Neither Bobbi or I were particularly fans of Elvis Presley when he was alive. However, we could very much appreciate what he had done to Graceland. For a man who died at 44, we could not help but be impressed with the shear magnitude of his commercial recording and entertaining accomplishments, especially in such a short time. We were more than impressed with the multitude of his, little-known charitable contributions, both public and private. Naturally, his death, the circumstances leading up to his death, and his "bloated" appearance just prior to his death, were conspicuous by their absence. Elvis's life was understandably shown "through rose colored glasses", to preserve his Iconic image as the untarnished "King of Rock and Roll". While the whole Graceland complex is the quintessential "Tourist Trap", it is none-the-less an interesting and worthwhile stop on any visit to the Memphis area.

Wednesday afternoon, we toured the eastern side of Memphis for two and a half hours, searching for the local Harley dealership (another dip-dot), using a AAA map of more than questionable accuracy. When we finely found the dealership (by asking for directions), even the dealership's receptionist was dumbfounded by our map. While we shopped around, she located the shop on our map for us, indicating that the dealership was located in a totally different area. AAA had mislabeled so many of the streets on the east side, that we had been searching in a residential area located some five miles away from where we wanted to be.

This "frustrating experience" had created so much "anxiety" within us that we were compelled to seek "relief", back on Beale Street, this time with "flagons" of frozen "Bahama Mamas" while sitting in the window of "Wet Willie's". Again, to "decompress" by listening to recorded Blues music while we watched the evening's "local cast of characters" assemble for the night's festivities. It is an old tradition in Memphis night clubs for the Blues musicians to dress in bright pastel, double-breasted "Zoot" suits. That tradition is alive and well today, "good taste" not-with-standing. When you see these musicians (the "wanna-bes"), and the assortment of "other" colorful characters that abound, it's easy to understand how so many people can spend evening after evening sucking down "suds" while they people watch on Beale Street.

One of the criticisms, that can not go unmentioned, concerns (what appears to be) the average Memphis "automobile driver". While their apparent ignorance of common courtesy, or the standard "rules of the road" could be forgiven, their unbridled arrogance, rudeness and apparent willingness to run down anything or anyone in their way, can not be overlooked. Apparently, to the average Tennesseean, his or her car is a personal "weapon" to be used indiscriminately. There seems to be a nearly common "chip on the shoulder" of many of the local "minorities" for people of (perceived) affluence or higher social standing. Conversely, the "affluent" are incredibly self-absorbed, and only too willing to run down "anyone in their way", rather than interrupt their cell-phone conversations. It is our experience that extremely "defensive driving" (especially on a motorcycle), is the only way to 'survive' on the streets and highways of southern Tennessee, and we were glad to be leaving the area for Jackson, MS Thursday morning.

All day yesterday, we drove through incessant thunder storms, containing what was being reported on the radio as dozens of half formed tornadoes and several hale storms. This lasted all of the way down I-55 in Mississippi, to the capital city of Jackson. We decided to hole-up in an RV park in the Jackson suburb of Byram (about 5-10 miles south of the city), to wait out the additional thunder storms that were being forecasted for the rest of the day and well into last night.

We learned watching television that any major storm cell may spawn several tornadoes, most of which will never "touch down" or do any damage. We had parked our rig pointing south. During the early evening, another major thunder storm cell struck our area producing copious amounts of rain and hale. As it turns out, this particular storm cell also produced several tornadoes, most of which just formed and dissipated without touching down. However, one of these "cyclonic" winds passed right over our trailer, broadside. It first pushed against the western side of the trailer, rocking us violently. As it passed directly over us, there was a brief, hot sticky calm. This was followed by severe winds against the eastern side of the trailer, violently rocking us for a second time, making us very mindful of our vulnerability in a trailer. While all of this was going on, the incessant pounding of the rain (or sleet), "drumming" on the trailer's thin rubber roof, combined with the howling of the wind outside, combined to create a frightening "din" like nothing we have ever heard.

We contemplated leaving the trailer, to take refuge in a near-by brick laundry but the winds stopped as abruptly as they had started, along with the worst of the incessant rain, so we settled down and watched the storm's progress on TV. We later learned that a few minutes later and about five mile east of us, "our" tornado (or another one from the same storm cell), touched down in the near-by town of Brandon, where it destroyed seven single-family homes. Additionally, there was wide-spread flash-flooding throughout the greater Jackson area. This all was a little more excitement than we had bargained for. In fact, Bobbi slept with all her cloths on, "just in case it would be necessary to leave the trailer in a hurry", However, the rest of the night passed without incident.

We plan on touring the Jackson and Natchez Trace areas on the Harley for a few days (weather permitting), before heading to the annual "Jazz Fest", being held next week in New Orleans.

Stay tuned for further developments,
Fred & Bobbi.

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Hi Everyone,
We are winding down from a very hectic, but (mostly) pleasant four day week-end in Branson, MO. The first day (Thursday), we just went sight-seeing on the Harley. This section of the Ozark Mountains is very much like New Hampshire, with lots of winding roads and quaint little "hamlets". However, we have been traveling in "Tornado Ally" in tornado season, ever since we left New Mexico. When we were in Oklahoma City we were in the middle of a wind storm with gusts up to 60 mph, and at least two tornadoes touched down in the greater Oklahoma City area. Saturday night here in the Ozarks there was a tremendous thunder storm. The rain drummed on the trailer so loudly, and the thunder & lightning was son incessant that it was impossible to get any sleep. We found out later that at least four tornadoes touched down in our area resulting in some property damage but no fatalities. The locals take these storms very much for granted and are amazingly unfazed by them.


On Friday we went to "The Strip" to see "Jimmy Osmond's American Jukebox" show. We were very pleasantly surprised at what an entertaining variety show this was. In addition to Jimmy's singing and that of a hot lady by the name of Babbett Young, an amazing ventriloquist by the name of Jim Barber (who was as much "contortionist" as he was ventriloquist/comedian) put on a great show.. This act was truly unique in that the man's head was on top of the "dummy" that was cradled in the arms of the standing man, and the dummy's head was "attached" on top of the man's shoulders. In addition to being the most cleaver physical arrangement for an act of this type, it was the most "believable" as well. The ventriloquist's lips never moved. He even had a "conversation" with his own hands that was hilarious, and we were willing to believe that he nearly drowned his own right had in a glass of water, to the "horror" of his left hand.

Another spectacular act was the "Magic of the Hamners". without boring you with details, just know that this duo was most entertaining, performed tricks that absolutely astounded us and the rest of the audience, including "levitating" a teenager from the audience, within 20 - 30 feet from us. Jimmy Osmond and his kids and Babbett Young were no less entertaining.

Later that evening we took in the Glen Campbell/Andy Williams show at the Andy Williams Moon River Theatre. In addition to their each singing a variety of their own hit recordings and several other selections, the ad-libs that they engaged in were hilarious. These two guys obviously like each other. While Andy still has a great voice (at 70 something), he is still a little stiff and "awkward" on stage, while Glen is the consummate showman who seems to love every minute that he spends in front of an audience. He is also a pretty fair comedian. Additionally, Glen introduced his daughter who proved to be quite a singer too, and a heck of a lot prettier than her father.

Saturday afternoon and evening, we attended the Dixie Stampede Dinner & Show. Believe it or not, the food was terrific, and was served piping hot. The main course was rock-Cornish hen and everything was served sans utensils of any kind. However, warm, moist towels were provided as were premoistened toweletts.

First, there was a warm-up show in the "saloon" adjoining the main show ring. The entertainment was provided by a unique juggler/comedian who had the room in stitches for the better part of a half hour. The main "Show" was a cross between a sort of "variety" show on horseback, with the Civil War as the basic "theme", a circus, and a rodeo. The audience was split into two "opposing sides", the North and the South (being from "Southern" New Hampshire, we naturally sat on the South side). With only one exception, all of the saddle horses were American Quarter Horses. That one exception was the Ring Master/Master of Ceremonies. He was mounted on a very muscular and large horse (18 + hands), imported from Europe, with long "feathers" like a Clydesdale. Unfortunately, we can't remember the unusual name of that breed. All of the wagon "Teams" were comprised of remarkably well matched Belgians that performed many intricate "skits" pulling various wagons in a very confined space.

Dave,
We must have gotten your home e-mail address wrong, it keeps coming back as "undeliverable". Please resend it.

Hi Pam,
I keep forgetting to mention that we visited the American Quarter Horse Association (A.Q.H.A.) Headquarters and Museum, while we were in Amarillo, TX. We now have a whole new respect for your "breed", especially knowing that it evolved here in the United States. As it turns out, both Bobbi and I got the opportunity to ride Quarter Horses, in Arizona. These were "push-button" animals that responded to our every move (even when we didn't want them to). Great fun!

More Later,
Fred & Bobbi

Hello Folks,
Well, we are now in Joplin, Missouri, heading for the new "Nashville", the Country Music town of Branson, MO. We have been "on the road" for nine months (with three more to go), and although we have only "scratched the surface", we have toured through 23 States and 3 of the Western Canadian Provinces/Territories.

One of the more interesting places we have seen, and one that I had failed to mention at the time, was the Buckhorn Saloon & Museum, in San Antonio, TX. In addition to being a working saloon and eatery that has been in continuous operation since 1881, it has "evolved" into a unique and expansive museum. This evolution was the result of the founder (Albert Frederick) opening the saloon with a standing offer to trade a free shot of whiskey or a beer for any deer antlers brought in. since that time, patrons have been bringing in antlers, horns, hides, and mounted heads, of all kinds, from all over the world. In 1882 the world's record "78 Point Buck" was acquired for $100. and was put on display. This was the beginning of a vast "Boone & Crockett" graded exhibit of nearly every species of mounted animals. Albert's father provided handmade cattle horn furniture of every description - from these the world's most unique collection of horns and antlers began.

In 1891 Albert married Emile Deer. Emile expanded Albert's drink offer to include rattlesnake rattlers and the tradition continues as thousands of rattlesnake rattlers are still being brought in as barter. Over time the Buchhorn has acquired Western Collectibles ranging from a stuffed bucking "bronco", samples of Western saddles, tack, guns, and clothing, to the stuffed carcass of the worlds largest Texas Longhorn Steer.

The Buckhorn became a "museum" in 1920 as a result of Prohibition, as a reason to stay legally open "without booze". When Prohibition was repealed in 1930, the Buckhorn brought the liquor back out to the top of the bar, and business resumed as usual. While the location has changed a few times to gain greater floor space, the Buckhorn has remained in the family and continues to acquire unique and eclectic "collectibles" of every description, from all over the world. When visiting San Antonio, the absurdities and "refreshments" available at the Buckhorn are a great contrast to the refinement of the Riverwalk.

Back in Oklahoma City, one of the highlights of our visit to this city was a day-long tour of the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum. In the first place, we were taken by how extensive and opulent this museum is. It has obviously been and continues to be very well funded. In addition to hundreds of articles of western historical significance, there is a series of rooms dedicated to Western Movies and the Cowboy Stars of Western movies. These Stars begin with Tim Holt and Tom Mix, and chronicle and exhibit articles from such notables as William Boyd (Hopalong Cassidy), Duncan Renaldo (Cisco Kid), John Wayne, Gabby Hayes, Bob Steele, Rex Allen, Gene Autry, Ken Maynard, Sam Elliott, and even Tom Sellick (visa vie Quigley Down Under, Monty Walsh, etc). The collection of frontier and western firearms rivals even the collection at the Buffalo Bill Museum in Cody, Wyoming.

There is even an absolutely complete and authentic western town called "Prosperity Junction" that has been recreated inside the museum's walls. Most of the buildings are complete with original fixtures and (where available) original materials and furniture. The whole museum "room" is in darkness, simulating evening, with the only lighting provided by lamps that would be illuminated in a town of the mid-nineteenth century, so that the town looks and feels all the more authentic. One can walk down the main street and even go into most of the buildings to examine the antique interiors and furnishings. Even the stable is complete with hay, grain, carriages and even stuffed horses and a mule standing in the various stalls. Even the smells, both good and bad, are authentic.

In addition to spending some time reflecting at the National Memorial for the Victims of the bombing of the Murrah Federal Office Building, The Stockyards (as previously detailed), and the Cowboy Museum, over two days we toured "The 45th Infantry Division Museum, that is attached to the Headquarters of the Oklahoma National Guard. While the focus is decidedly on the 45th Division, this extensive museum has documented and collected items of all of America's wars up to and including The Gulf War. These indoor and outdoor exhibits, include many unique articles of value to our former enemies.

One of the more provocative rooms is dedicated to the Nazi Concentration Camp at Dachau, and the unspeakable atrocities that took place in that despicable place. In addition to unbelievable photographs, one whole wall is dedicate to drawings and sketches made by the Jewish prisoners. It was important to these people that some "record" be left of the things that went on in this place. As unpleasant as these depictions may be, every high school student in this country should have the opportunity to see this exhibit so that it isn't ever forgotten. One letter home from a G.I. who participated in the liberation of Dachau, said it best when he told his father that he had "just discovered the reason he had been fighting in the war".

Well, that's about everything up to now. As we are presently "camping" in the Joplin, MO Wal-Mart, we have no idea when we will find a data-port to send this e-mail, but get it you will.

As to camping in Wal-Mart parking lots; we have got to start spending our evenings in designated RV Parks. We can't afford the much higher "cost" of camping at the Wal-Mart Supercenters food stores. Our waistlines are reflecting the folly of this as well.

More Later,
Fred & Bobbi