One a-Landing, Two a-Landing, Three a-Landing, Four!

Actually, the total count was more like 15 landings in all. It’s difficult to express just how jazzed I am ….and how exhausted I am. I just did more flying in the previous three days than the previous three months. Flying is fun but it can be a work out when you’ve not flow a particular aircraft before. But, let’s start at the beginning.

Ol’ Ran had been working at adding on to his private pilot’s certificate. The first attempt was the “Multi-Engine” rating. That’s about half accomplished as you recall and that story is in the February edition. I’m also studying for my “Instrument Rating” and can prove it by offering for exhibit the stack of study materials falling off of my bookshelf just above my computer. After that will be more brow bending and teeth gnashing for yet other ratings that will allow me to further my part in the field of general and commercial aviation.

OK…now it’s time for a confession. I love WACO biplanes. I helped rebuild a 1941 UPF-7 WACO when I was a teenager with the hopes of getting to fly it. That didn’t happen. I’ve been waiting for 47 years to fly a WACO. Enter “Attitude Aviation” located in Livermore, CA. Guess what the just happen to have in their hanger? YEP…a WACO biplane! It’s a gorgeous, and I mean GORGEOUS, 1991 YMF-5C that has a big 275 hp Jacobs R-755 radial engine glued to its nose. Though classic in design, she’s a modern version but from the original plans. The new company is located in Battlecreek, MI.

I scheduled to fly the WACO (originally the “Weaver Aircraft Company”) but had to postpone three times before the weather finally decided to break and allow me to forge ahead with my plans. Excitement was in the air…on the floor...in the garage….in the barn…on the walls…everywhere. It can’t be stated with all assurance but, when the weather did clear, there possibly, sort of, kind of, may have been a spontaneous flutter in my heart’s left ventricle. The voiding of my bowels in my freshly-washed blue jeans was much more conclusive.

We loaded “El Hoopie”, the Freestar van, and headed north to Livermore the day prior to “fun instruction” (ok…if you have to be precise, “flight instruction”). After unloading the van we settled in for the duration.

Our motel was a modest place (read “cheap”) with all the amenities of a moderately enlightened Amish farmer’s home. The cheap part was on purpose since money wasted on a motel room couldn’t be spent on buying flying time. Anyway, it sported a TV and a bed and a chair with a table holding up one wall. A dangling light lit the table at the far end of the room. The motel was located only about 3.5 miles from the airport so there wasn’t much to complain about. Besides, we didn’t need the room for much other than to keep the cool air and condensation off of us at night. That and a hot shower in the morning would do fine. We weren’t going to host a political fund raising bash for any particular brain dead, moronic, slime bag, snake of a lawyer who is hoping to lead us into the maw of desperation with his unflagging bravado and stupidity.

Anyhoo….”Captain Ran” woke early the next morning and tracked down some hot black eyelid-and-heart-lubricant that, thankfully, was located in the motel’s office. I’ll take strong hot black coffee to get my heart started over a precordial thump any day. After primping a bit so as not to scare my instructor, we headed to the Livermore airport.

My instructor was Rhett Boeger who, though one of California’s premier flight instructors, was terribly un-primped. I’m starting think that, though reared in California, I missed the part about being supremely casual when appearing in public. After all, folks used to dress up to attend the walk-in movie theatres when I was a boy! Nevertheless, what a delightful but heavy chap he was! I tip the scales at somewhere around 230 pounds (albeit, that’s without my primping outfit with change in pocket, three sets of keys, and a fat wallet onboard). Rhett is my size and a half bale of hay. After being introduced, I commented that, “Rhett, I’ve done some preliminary weight and balance calculations for the WACO. If the auxiliary tanks have any fuel in them at all, one of us will have to stay behind!”. I was pleased that he laughed and didn’t pull his UZI on me.

Rhett is a supremely excellent pilot and an even better instructor. I really appreciated that they assigned him as my instructor. The guy is cool as can be and has flown airplanes that I dearly love and some of which I have yet to fly. His faded denim jeans have more flying time than I do.

It didn’t take long to get out to the WACO. There she sat….more beautiful than the jaw dropping pictures of her. We did a long preflight and walk around with most of the time being used to wait for my Huggies to dry. Rhett advised that the usual procedure is to stick the dummy pilot (he didn’t and wouldn’t say that but I did) in the front cockpit for an orientation flight. I would find out rather quickly that “orientation” meant, “work your fanny off, granny”.

There really are not words when it comes to trying to describe what happens to the human psyche and anatomy when you start a big muscular radial engine that is mounted directly in front of him. I can tell you that the rumbling sound has hooked many a good man and made a “believer” out of him. I’ve been “Radial Ran” since I was a boy so you can bet that my heart was in sync with this big round maker of horsepower when the first cylinder fired.

It was hard to believe that I was actually going to have a WACO haul my pink fundament into the air in only a few minutes.

Stay tuned to further episodes of “Captain WACO” and his damp underpants.

Well……things have been ..uh...interesting here at the Ranch. We got back from Livermore where I had a grand time flying the gorgeous WACO and a pretty little Aeronca Citabria taildragger.

The plan was to fly twice per day but the wind intervened. They don’t fly the conventionally geared aircraft if the wind is above about ten or twelve knots (especially if a crosswind is involved). So, I got to fly three mornings in a row but the afternoon flights were cancelled.

Nevertheless, getting to fly the big WACO was high point in my logbook. She’s a real lady in the sky. However, she’s quite demanding when landing. You can’t be asleep at the wheel with this bird or you’ll be harvesting weeds with the prop in a heartbeat.

A day or so after we returned, my main 500GB hard drive crashed. I’m still not sure what caused it but it may have been a defective external hard drive that I was unplugging v (not knowing that it was defective). In any case it suffered a “logical crash” (as opposed to a catastrophic failure). I couldn’t access the drive either directly or by mounting it on an external hard drive dock.

Everything had been backed up on a 3TB external drive so there should have been no problems with the recovery. However, and this is where it gets interesting, the 3TB drive failed too! GREAT! Now, I have to send the drive out to “Drive Savers” for data recovery. What is one to do when he has ten years of writing, books, articles, blogs, teachings, treatises, personal notes, studies, dumptruck loads of reference materials, thousands of drivers, hundreds of applications, tens of thousands of songs, and about 75 thousand pictures? There are a lot of very important pics of my family that I’m not ready to part with.

“Drive Savers” services start at 700 clams and worst case scenario estimates go as high as 2,700! I think I’m in the wrong business! I can’t help but think of just how fortunate that I am in that I have more than one box of bullets that I can bite.

My newly edited books simply must be salvaged.  Connie and I were almost finished with the editing and our daughter-in-law is waiting for us to ship the manuscripts to her so she can get them to “Lightning Source” printing. The crash has also led to a delay in finishing up with the new publishing company so things are on hold for a bit. *SIGH* At least we have the bar codes and ISBN numbers for them.

Now for some good news; we recently went to Torrance to see the grandkiddies. It was birthday time, in fact. Seems that their parents are feeding them and they are getting older, don’tcha know. There was lots of ice cream and goodies, of course, and a fun time was enjoyed by all.

The next morning, Mother’s Day, found us waiting in line at “Polly’s Pies” where, after only a reasonable wait, we feasted on a wonderful and large breakfast. After hugs-all-around, we departed for home via a few yard sales.

Prior to our departure from home, dear musician friend, Jackson Wallen, in Cayucos sent me a Craig’s List listing for a 12 String Martin guitar in Santa Maria. The guitar was immaculate and I have wanted a 12 string for a long time anyway. So, we headed for Santa Maria. 

Now, you would think that Ol’ Ran, would have done at least some of the math on this trip. Naw. He didn’t do that. We drove to Santa Maria and found the guy with the g-tar. It was everything that he had advertised and everything that I wanted so I bought it! He even tossed in the Martin case with it! Such a deal! Then, we headed for Torrance.

Did you know that California is a large state? I must have forgotten that fact. It is right at 200 miles from Springville to Torrance. By driving to Santa Maria and then to Torrance, it’s almost 400 miles! MAYA CERTZ!  We were bushed when we got down there. It took a few days to recuperate after we got home, believe you me.

My replacement computer is in the process of being configured. It’s running Vista and you can be assured that it will be upgraded to Win7 shortly (GAWD! I HATE Vista!). In addition to the main 320GB hard drive, it’s now running two 500GB storage volumes for a resident total of 1.32TB of storage. Not bad for someone whose first computer was a 386SX with a 16mhz processor, 2MB of RAM,  and a 180 MB hard drive. I have another 3T external storage volume and a 2T coming in the mail. I think my 1TB external drive may be OK after all. I thought that it was a goner but it appears to be healthy so far. We’ll see.

Anyhoo….I’ll try to get back into the swing of things when I can. Stay tuned for the ever changing events at Rancho Relaxo where the gophers dig deep and coyotes play and sing.

Green, Green, It's Green They Say

I wish that everyone could have been here to enjoy our magnificent spring season. It was finally GREEN around here! Though somewhat late in getting here, it was nevertheless appreciated beyond measure. What a marvelous contrast between this verdant display and the burnt toast color that you well remember that assails our hills in summertime. I am speaking in past tense because the temperature just hit 93 degrees and the hills are already starting to wither.

Connie and I try to drive over the Yokhol Valley hump at least once per year (once in each direction if we can) and take the obligatory 6 thousand pictures of the magnificent array of wildflowers. If possible, the 30 mile trip is also used as an initiation of any friends who have yet to discover the glory of the wildflowers in that region. We haven’t been able to fulfill that duty so far but have at least discussed the matter. We say it like this:  “We’re moving towards moving towards doing it”. Perhaps if I recharge the batteries in the big Sony Mavica and reload the AA’s in the smaller digicams I will somehow derive the impetus to overcome my work schedule and tired airframe and just go shoot some pictures. We’ll see but, judging by our lagging energy level and lack of time (my responsibilities somehow keep getting in the way of my fun time) it won't happen any time soon. *SIGH*

Speaking of digicams, OL' Rancho Ran and his side-cook, Sweet Connie, aren't lacking cameras. Between yards sales and such, we have probably six or seven nice cameras. On one particular yard sale, we picked up a high performance camera that was, get this, just too complicated for the teenaged gal to mess with. So, she dumped it for a fin!  It was a 150 dollar camera! Another camera obtained at a yard sale (at Pismo Beach) was a beautiful 6 mega-pixel Panasonic model. It had been in storage for awhile and the batteries had leaked. I purchased it, took it home, cleaned it up and it works like a Swiss watch. Not bad for ten bucks, eh?

I was scheduled for flight instruction this week in Livermore but the weather changed on us…again. We postponed twice already but the weather changed again so we postponed again. I’ve yet to have confidence in the weatherman except in California and only in mid-summer when I have great trust. “Well, Gina, the forecast for tomorrow is ‘HOT and DRY’ just as I predicted. Don’t look for green grass on the hills any time soon”.

The new schedule is for the middle of the last week of this month going into the next. I did take the SportStar for a spin around the pea patch. It’s a fun ship to fly but it’s not a WACO.

It’s interesting to note that I wasn’t feeling all that well anyway. I told Connie that I was feeling “weird” but wasn’t aware of the cause. Can you imagine feeling seriously goofy and trying to fly an airplane? Me neither.

I had thought that hypertension was sneaking into the picture. In fact, it wasn’t unreasonable to suspect that given that I had recently availed myself of the blood pressure cuff at the local CVS Pharmacy (formerly Long’s on Henderson). Thankfully, the auto sphygmomanometer was brain dead and lied to me. I was shocked at the reading and was ready to head straight to the doctor’s office after such an insane reading.

This reading actually led me to ultimately make a doctor’s appointment albeit not without being prompted by Connie. DUH! I have a particular dislike for doctors. So, it isn’t often that I submit to their quackery and ham handed chicanery (statistically, doctors kill a thousand times more people each year than do people with guns).

Being a former paramedic, I knew that about the worst that could happen by going to the doctor would be an exam and some blood work. That is exactly what happened. He looked me over and ordered some blood work. That was done right after the visit to the doctor. My blood was draw by the cutest brown haired vampire I’ve seen so far. She had an ebullient personality and was quite friendly. I kept her away from my neck, though.

There was a bit of a surprise, though. I had a sinus infection! Say what?! I knew my head felt goofy but…..a sinus infection? There may have been a sinus infection in my quiver twenty years ago but only once! Who woulda thunk? A real poser is why the doctor said, “You have a sinus infection” but then made an appointment for the next week without addressing the matter. No antibiotics or such. Reckon I’m chopped liver or something. Maybe he was going to let the bugs grow into a real mess so that he would have more to do. He would make more money by having to take a jackhammer and a couple of cherry bombs to my sinus cavity so he could FIX things, don'tcha know.

The good news was that my blood pressure was “only” 137/ 90. Not quite “normal” but a far cry from the potentially eardrum-breaking reading at CVS. 

The lab report showed that my blood was fine so there was no cause for concern there. So, the doctor tossed some low-tech bug killers at me to overpower the invading and offending infection.  Yo soy mucho mas major ahora.

The training in Livermore is in a late model WACO YMF5C. She’s a biplane beauty to fawn over, to be sure. She’s sporting a big Jacobs R-755 radial engine that easily pumps out 275 horse power. Radial engines are my friends. You can take a gander at her here: http://www.attitudeaviation.com/waco.html

We still haven’t been able to get our above ground garden built. A friend of ours advised that the compost supply (from near Exeter) is now somewhat spotty. Not sure what that’s all about but another friend has some extra compost available for the taking. The lumber is parked out back and the chicken wire is near the lumber. Chicken wire will be used as a flooring and is used to keep out the (many) California pocket gophers. The little interlopers feel that they are entitled to our veggies and that they have mineral and mining rights to the property. They’re probably illegal Mexican gophers.

The Ranch Rino tractor is fixed. Friend and fellow Spring-villain, Rudy Paine, a top-notch mechanic, straightened it out for us. I had previously ran over a smallish pile of brush while rounding up tree trimmings and such into a large burn pile and had managed (without any assistance) to break the exhaust pipe at the manifold. No telling what a professional would have charged me to make a break like that. It’s back to being quiet again and I’m back in the good graces of my neighbors.

Not much farm work being done but at least I cut the grass. But, I have yet to take the weedeater for a long walk and do the clean up required after mowing. The big lawn tractor is doing its part but the grass has been wet a lot so I can’t use the grass catcher. In fact, it started raining within 15 minutes after mowing two weeks ago. Not only could I not use the weedeater I couldn’t use the Roundup on the weeds that are trying to hijack my driveway. Oh, well. I was tired anyway and probably wouldn’t have done it. At least I had a great excuse.

The computer biz is steady. Steady is good. I don’t want to expand and don’t want to hire someone to help. The way things are, I can pretty much work my own schedule and still have a two to three day turn around. Down in P’ville, the turn around time can be up to two weeks. Once in awhile it takes as long as a week to fix a box. That usually means I have to order a part or such. Most of that dynamic concerns a laptop because I don’t stock parts for them. There are just too many makes and models and I don’t have the room.

Connie and I got to spend the night in Fresno a week ago. We were going to attend a friend’s birthday part. However, we did so because we wanted to get an early start on the yard sales. Fresno has always had great yard sales. I can’t even begin to recount the many treasures I’ve run across when I lived there. Not much you can find if you just look. The weather was perfect for yard sale’ing so we had a grand time. I may be tempted to take “Heffalump”, the big white covered trailer next time. We’ll see.

You can bet we will take the trailer when we head to Pismo Beach this summer, though! The yard sales at the coast are unreal! We loaded the trailer last year! Good stuff!

Stay tuned to the adventures of “Captain Cornball” and his sweet side-cook, Connie

Son of a Beach - Long Beach

Piper PA-44 Seminole

Man! Talk about things happening at the Ol’ Ranch! Connie and I departed Springville on Sunday March 4^th for Torrance (who stuck March into this picture so soon, anyway?!). I had signed up with a flight school called “ATP” for multi-engine flight training. They are a big outfit based at the Long Beach Airport and other large airports around the country.

Connie has a dear friend who lives a mere ten miles from the airport and who was most gracious enough to allow us to stay with her until I was finished. How neat is that? I had actually tried to sign on with “Mazzei’s Flight School” in Fresno but they were booked! So, Long Beach was the next choice.

I arrived early as is my usual protocol and got acquainted with my instructor, Zach Bell. Zach, I was to find, was a consummate professional and a great instructor! We had some “getting onboard” formalities to attend to (like, paying to play and signing all of the papers) so that was taken care of. Soon, we were in pre-flight mode and then we boarded the aircraft. Ziggity!

The plane is the twin-engine Piper PA-44 Seminole. She’s basically the backbone of the multi-engine training fleet in this country. Strapped to her “Hershey bar” (big rectangular) wings are two normally aspirated Lycoming 0-360 engines pumping out about 180 hp per side. You won’t see her entered into any races but you will see her at just about every airport that offers multi-engine training.

The Seminole is basically the Piper PA-28R Arrow but with two engines. The Arrow is basically the Piper PA-28-181 Archer but with retractable landing gear and a “T-tail”. I’ve flown the Archer (and all other Cherokees save for the Cherokee Six) but have yet to fly the single engine Arrow. Reckon I just side-stepped that one to fly the Seminole. “Mazzei’s” actually has the Arrow and I hope to fly it while picking up my instrument rating if they can spare an instructor. They just hired three new instructors but still don’t have time for small town pilots like me. Heck…I told them that my money was good and that the ink should be dry by the time I get up there. HEHEH.

So, it appeared that I would actually be flying an old friend that had an extra engine. That pretty much was the case. Ah…but it sounds soooo simple. However, as you well know, when you have an airplane with one engine, taking care of the particulars is a handful. When you have two engines, the particulars are three handfuls. This is also to say that, actually flying the airplane is somewhat easy but handling the checklist, knowing the emergency engine-out procedures, and riding herd on the instruments is a much greater workload.

After the preflight and finding that all pieces were in close proximity to each other and that we had gas enough to fly without stopping at the local Shell station, we boarded the bus. Ol’ Captain Sweetie (thanks for the telling appellation, Connie) strapped himself in and settled in for the duration.

“ATP” had sent me a 50 page study guide. I was just so thankful that they only wanted me to memorize 40 pages of it. It concerned what they expected me to do prior to taking a check ride and also how the Seminole performed in flight and on the ground. After a week of memorizing everything but the names of the individual 6,000 rivets on the aircraft, I felt somewhat secure in steering this modest twin into the placid ether above Long Beach Harbor’s “Angel’s Gate” and all points west to Catalina Island and back. Ah, but there was more.

No self-respecting airplane would be caught dead without its checklist and the Seminole was no exception. I am used to using a checklist on all of the airplanes I fly with the exception of the Aeronca Champion. But…holy guacamole! I wasn’t expecting a thick bible! Each step of every part of the operation of the aircraft, from pre-flight to post-flight when the props stop spinning and the chocks are in place, is prescribed in the checklist. What to do if an engine stops, what to do during pre-take off, post-take off, climb, cruise, descent, while on approach, and while in the pattern, and what to do after landing is all detailed in the checklist.

Contrast this with the checklist of the 1946 Aeronca 7DC Champion that I’ve recently been flying. The list is basically: GO CART – Gas, Oil, Controls, Altimeter, Run-up, and Time. In other words, kick the tires and light the fires. It translates as, “Checklist? Checklist? We don’t need no stinking checklist!”. Of course, one of the other airplanes that I fly, a Cessna 172 with a 180 hp engine conversion, constant speed prop, and STOL kit, does have a real checklist but it’s nothing compared to the Seminole.

A strange thing happened while I was perusing the checklist. There are a couple of really interesting psychological phenomena known as “perceptual blocking” and “perceptual filtering”. It means that you can’t see what’s actually in front of your face. Now, you would think that a fully-growed (sic) fella like myself would be able to  see what was on his check list. HA! Silly you! I managed to look directly at the check list and erase much of it in a single bound! How on earth could a reasonably intelligent guy with at least one good eye do this?! Well, it’s easy….at least the best that I can tell. What wasn’t supposed to be there, according to my previous 30 years of single engine flight training, just wasn’t there. It didn’t exist in my world so it didn’t exist in this new world’s checklist. Oh, by the way, that’s not a good thing when transitioning to a twin-engine airplane where check lists are paramount.

I’ve been flying small planes since 1963. Not only that, I’ve been flying small planes at a small airport since 1963. The check lists are short and you don’t have to report to “Clearance” for permission to contact “Ground Control”, then report to “Ground Control”, and then call the “Control Tower”. So, I was looking at the twin engine checklist at the second busiest general aviation airport in the country and seeing “SINGLE ENGINE AIRCRAFT OPERTATION AT A SMALL AIRPORT”.  In other words, I was trying to fly a multi-engine aircraft like a single engine plane and missing crucial checklist items though they were right in front of my face. It was embarrassing and exasperating. If I were a Mexican I would be tempted to cry out, "Santa Maria y Teresa!".

If that doesn’t make you want to wash your didy in the new low-suds “Tide”, on my first attempt at getting the twin engined box of rocks back to the ground, I was trying to land it like a Cessna! Actually, in all fairness to yours truly, my instructor advised that all Cessna drivers do this but that they learn to overcome their previous training. I did overcome that part and drove the twin onto the runway at 70 knots as directed by the instructor and the checklist. It was a non-event. I just had to remember to land the aircraft without much flare at all and with enough airspeed to make a go-around if necessary (and, when they pull the mixture handle taking away a perfectly good engine, they make sure that it is necessary!).

Well, that’s called, “flying the plane”. I can do that part. However, the aircraft is equipped with two beautiful Garmin GNS 430 GPS/Nav/Radio units that have the HSI and VOR’s slaved to them. Unfortunately, someone forgot to train me in the use of these new fangled boxes of semiconductors. Oh, yes. Someone also forgot to apprise me of the fact that Long Beach Airport is the second busiest General Aviation airport in the nation (only Van Nuys, not far away to the north, is busier). This translates to a “work load” on a pilot from a small uncontrolled airport in the southern San Joaquin Valley.

Frankly, I loved the plane and its instrumentation. I’ve read about the GNS 430 and have even used it twice but am still learning how to use it correctly. It’s great! The handling qualities of the plane were quite familiar and were without intimidation. It flew like most other Piper’s with which I am acquainted. But, unlike its single engine siblings, it has the glide ratio of a bag of Oreos. Anyway, when thrust into such a busy environment without having sufficient training with the excellent instrumentation, and while flying in airspace that is completely foreign to me, the result was predictable; it was overwhelming.

Imagine having to have sudden and immediate recall of several unfamiliar frequencies (even though I did write them down and had them on my kneeboard), airspace parameters, altitude restrictions, and being required to have complete environmental awareness (i.e. being aware of the many aircraft that are in the practice area between Catalina Island and Long Beach and the nearby restricted airspaces) on the first flight! Now, try to balance that with actually flying the airplane through a number of flight maneuvers without “impressing” the instructor. *Sigh*. This is pretty tough stuff for a pilot who hasn’t flown into controlled airspace in almost ten years. I hadn’t fully realized that fact until I was looking down from 4,500 feet MSL and beholding the absolutely stunning beauty of Long Beach Harbor from Catalina Island. This is also to say that Ol’ Ran simply wasn’t proficient with flying at a “real” airport. All of this means that I wasn’t able to fully fly the plane as effectually as was necessary to complete the accelerated training program. It became clear that I was a candidate for the “un-accelerated” program. “Ol’ Slow Ran”, they call me.

Because of the above (overwhelming) dynamics, and after more than 6 hours of dual instruction, I decided to voluntarily withdraw from the program prior to the check ride and resume at a time when I wasn’t so dusty and rusty and in airspace (e.g. Fresno) with which I was familiar.

My instructor was a prince. He understood and called me a good pilot. That may have been because I brought him and the plane back in one piece and without him needing a new Huggie. He was right thankful for that, I should suppose. It was also in light of the fact that I always hung the airplane on the assigned altitude and was more prepared procedurally (i.e. I did my homework) than anyone else that he could recall. Because of that, he commented that I would make a great “IFR” pilot. I was most humbled. The instrument rating is, in fact, the next goal.

It made sense to me because, had I not withdrawn, I was looking at being rather unprepared for the check ride. There was no way I was going to add a busted check ride to my shopping cart so it was time to “Take Me Back to Tulsa”, boys. “ATP” issued an immediate pro-rated refund.

I’ll be contacting “Mazzei’s” in Fresno again and see if they can sequence me into their program up there. Their program is six weeks long and I think to say that their longer (decelerated) agenda is right up my alley. Most likely, the training received in Long Beach can easily shorten their syllabus and I can take the check ride sooner. Anyway, I’ll keep everyone apprised as I can.

The next step is probably to head to Livermore and check out in their “Waco Classic” YPF5C and their Great Lakes 2T. This WACO is an all new model built in Battle Creek, MI. She’s a cutie that looks exactly like the antiques! She's equipped with the 275 hp Jake on her nose which I think is wonderful! The Continental powered WACO’s climb like homesick angels anyway so this one must be a hoot! I called “Attitude Aviation” and found that I merely need to schedule the program. It should only take about a week to nail down both planes.

They also have a Marchetti SF-260 hot rod with the big 260hp Lycoming on it. I understand them to be ex-Italian AF trainers and they currently use them for mock combat flights. Sounds like fun to me! Their Pitts S-2C is also available but I’m not really all that ready to tackle aerobatics. Plus, I think the Pitts is a bit more responsive and sensitive on the controls for a ham hand like me. I may reconsider after building some time in other ships.

We’ll be putting in an above ground garden if we can. It’s already pretty late to do so but it may yet work. The 2’ x 12” x 10’s are stacked but need to be painted and we need to get some compost. I figure we should be ready by Christmas or New Years at the latest. We have a ton seeds which should last for many more years.

The exhaust manifold on the Ranch Rhino (tractor) is being fixed and it should be back to work soon. It doesn't eat much but its wrangler is the laziest varmint I've seen in awhile. On one of the next “burn days” I hope to turn the huge pile of tree and grass trimmings and such that I’ve been collecting for the previous three years into smoke, heat, and gas.

More later as we can. Stay tuned for the adventures of Ol’ Sky Jack Ran (I was buckin’ for “Sky King” but it’s already taken) and his side-cook, Sweetie Pie Connie.

FEBRUARY?!! You Can't Be Serious!

Well, well, well. It’s February again and ….so soon, too! Someone needs to ‘splain to me how it can be 2012 while I’m still waiting for Y2K. Perhaps the new fangled high-performance Lithium Ion batteries on the market are pushing my old clocks into overdrive. For all I know, the new Star Trek DiLithium batteries are probably being used. Hey, I stick a memory chip in my computer and it talks to me just like it does when Spock does it! Who’s to say that these potent little space ship powering battery packs aren’t already on the market?

Things are moving along briskly here, to say the least. Not a complaint, of course. We don’t mind kicking along here at the ranch (though we would like to make a bit more dust in the process). We’ve had a number of new clients and our regulars are still showing up. It’s great when your business is located on the only road in and out of town, eh? Most of our clients are dear friends by now and a few of them are at least third cousins. It’s great!

We’ve just about wound down from our vacation trip. For some reason, all of that great Texas cookin’ and fresh Texas air has given us a heapin’ helpin’ of Texas-sized blahs. We seem to be short of steam lately. There seems to be about enough steam to blow the dust off a small chicken but that’s about all (and that’s if we double team him).  

Here at the ranch we’ve been waiting for Old Man Winter to drop in but he’s somehow lost his way. My guess is that his Garmin 430 GPS is broken. There was a rain storm forecast for Tulare Country the other day. Springville managed to get its share of the six drops that made to the ground.  My hope was that we would at least get enough rain to wash the coffee off the side of my van. I parked a cup of warm Starbucks on top when I loaded my guitar after church but….forgot it and drove off. Reckon the old girl will soon get a new year’s bath (the van, that is). El Cheapo wanted to save ten bucks but it didn't happen. Though not particularly vain, I do try to at least knock the chunks off the hoopie when I drive in public. Most folks around here are about ready to hire the local tribe of Tule Indians to do a rain dance. The trouble is that they own a Casino now and they’re too busy and prosperous to fuss with such low-paying seasonal events.

Can you imagine experiencing “winter” and only getting to wear your nice leather jacket twice all season (and that was actually more for decoration and not that I needed it)? Connie decked me out in a long sleeve shirt a couple of times too. If that isn’t enough to make you bark at your bulldog, we’ve had the A/C on in the van several times so far!  We visited the kids down in Harbor City/Torrance not long ago (January is supposed to still be winter) and it was 79 degrees! During our trip back east this previous December at Christmas time, it was 72 degrees in New Orleans. The A/C system has had no time to rest!

The lack of rain also translates in to a lack of green. The hills around here are usually alive with the sound of music but music doesn’t make the grass grow. So, the hills are brown and ugly just like in the summer time when the grass becomes oven-baked hay. It really makes me wonder if we will get our splendiferous crop of wild flowers this spring. We usually take the 25 or so mile drive from Springville to Exeter through Yokhol Valley. The curvy mountainous route is usually awash in white, gold, and purple wildflowers. Everything is painted green. It’s absolutely stunning.

And, our front yard is lacking as well and is starting to get really ugly. I am about to fire the hired help because he won’t get our there and set the sprinklers and ride the lawn tractor. I would do it but I am the hired help and I need the job.

The back yard…hoo, boy….that is a hopeless cause. It hasn’t been attended to in a year! That’s because the barn project took almost a year to complete (so much for “Aw, it shouldn’t take more than three months”). By the middle of last summer, I basically did not have a back yard. The place was littered with everything from tools to fools. All of the previous years’ yard work was laid waste. Once our lone duck gets back in a row I’ll take the Ranch Rhino tractor with its drag scraper and rework the area. A few bags of seed and a bit o’fertilizer, a liberal splash of agua, and things should be back in the green.

Don’t ask about the orange trees at the rear of the property. They have been dry-land farmed for too long and the fruit looks like big orange raisins. The sprinklers are in place so they may get a drink of water soon. Where’s a good Mexican laborer when you need one?

Speaking of having a lousy memory….someone has stolen at least half of my RAM chips. I can recall the days when I had a memory like a Cray super computer. Well….almost. I could, however, at least keep up with a good used Commodore 64.  Work schedules, appointments, dates, concerts, and what all were never missed and were remembered weeks in advance. But, now?….Holy moly!...I have to keep a bungee cord hooked between me and the calendar so I don’t miss appointments set for the next day! *SIGH*

Connie keeps trying to remind me to close the bedroom blinds before taking a shower (the bedroom faces Highway 190). Time and time again she has raced in and twisted the blinds shut just in time to spare the public from serious injuries to their eyeballs. But, Ol’ Flash somehow just can’t seem to get the point to stick to his Teflon lined noggin. She is also hoping to not have to bail me out of the hoosegow but loves me enough to hock the henhouse if I get busted for "aggravated nutidity" (being stupid enough to be nude where people can see you). Actually, it could even be worse. I could be charged with being "nekked" in public. Being nude is when you don't have any clothes on. But, being "nekked" is when you don't have any clothes on and you are up to something.

And….what’s with the salt-and-pepper mop on my head? I truly recall not being born with a need or desire have salt or pepper on anything but my eggs. Yet, my hair has been deftly and silently re-decorated with an extra color. Hmmmm….my barber was awfully quiet during my previous couple of haircuts. Maybe he’s practicing for a hair styling talent contest and forgot to advise me of the matter. He probably figured that, if he didn’t get screamed at by a client, he stood a good chance of winning. 

Stay tuned for more adventures of Captain Underpants and his side-cook, Connie, the Sweetie Pie.

Home Home on the Ranch - Part Two

Day 7

One of the delights of traveling is that you may get to see friends and/or family whom you have never met. That happened to us twice on this adventure, once in Missouri and once in Oklahoma (more about the Oklahoma surprise in a bit). After some coffee (for me, given that Connie is smart enough to settle for OJ, hot chocolate, and the like) and a light breakfast (i.e. enough to feed a small cat), we departed Fort Scott and headed east.

The first stop in MO was Eldorado Springs where we met sister in Christ and friend, Pat Gerster for the first time. It was a really blessed time of sharing and chatting over coffee and sodas. We are privileged to stand in prayerful agreement with our friend for the fullness of the will of the Lord be done for certain personal prayer requests. After a good while, we were back in the van and on our way to Bolivar, MO which, interestingly, is not all that far from Eldorado Springs.

Once in Bolivar, we hooked up with long time friend of the family, Dave Taylor, of “Taylor-Made Stone”. We had tried to connect last year but our schedule was too tight to be able to see him. So, it was great to get to visit with him. We had only seen each other once in the previous 40 years and even then it was only for a few minutes!

Wouldn’t you know that Ol’ Dave was smart enough to park his business across the street from a super Mexican restaurant! A smallish town in Missouri isn’t where I would think that you would find one of the country’s best Mexican restaurants! However, the vote is in; this is one of the best at which I’ve dined! What a treat! Reckon Dave can expect to see us again! HEH HEH!

After lunch and great visit, we had to depart and Dave had to get back to tending the biz. The Lord willing and the chickens don’t die, we’ll be able to return.

By early evening we were in Marshall, MO (near the top of the state) at dear friend and prayer partner, Melanie Campbell’s, home. Last trip, we were able to visit her for awhile prior to heading to Illinois. Since we arrived right at supper time (how convenient, eh?), she decided to take us to an out-of-the-way diner called, “

Lukes Place”.     

It looked like it may have been an ex-Lion’s Club or such and it certainly wasn’t anywhere near the beaten path. But, the food was outstanding! I can only imagine what their breakfasts are like!

Among other things, Melanie is an excellent writer/author and has recently won (actually swept) local writing awards. She is also a seasoned minister with much wisdom and council to offer the body of Christ. I suspect that we will be seeing more of her teachings as she contributes to various websites and newsletters. After hugs all around, we were BOI again.

From Marshall to St. Louis, we experienced misting and light rain. It was just an inconvenience and nothing serious. It was time to call it a night, though. Lights out… near St. Louis.

The next stop was Hillsboro, IL (a couple of hours NE of St. Louis) where we were able to visit with long time friend and brother, Gene Sales. Gene and I go back to the 8^th grade. We were both comic book collectors and had other things in common including another dear friend and brother, Jerry Lewis. We were…uh-hum….quite the trio. We being lads of the ‘60’s, you can ascribe certain random thoughts to what that may mean and…..you’d probably be spot on. We have all remained close friends for this entire time. Gene moved to Illinois a few years after I returned from WA in ’96. This is only the second time we had the opportunity to visit in all that time. After a swell time of visiting and belly filling, we had to go further north yet. Hugs all around and we’re BOI.

As can be imagined, after such a fairly tight schedule, and after 2,600 miles of being in the saddle, our bodies were starting to “talk” to us. In Dwight, IL (right along the old “Route 66”) there is a super “Super 8” motel that just happened to have a…Jacuzzi! Zowie! Jacuzzis are our friends! After luxuriating in the tub until we were a couple of ancient prunes, we looked at each other and said, “Can we bring this thing home with us?”. It surely helped us in having peaceful rest for the night.

OK….it’s Friday and day 9 for the brave and tired travelers. We’re on our way to Plainfield, IL to see beloved friends and brother and sister Ben and Mary Garwood. Ben and Mary moved to Plainfield from Rockford, IL a few years ago after he retired from teaching there. Their children and grandchildren are in Plainfield or nearby so it makes it much easier to be a family.

I met Ben in Rockford while I was on the police department. He was attending a school sponsored music event (he’s a music teacher) and I had been hired to chaperone (in uniform) the event (there’s another story here but I think I’ll save it for “Randy’s Rant Roost”). Though we had just met that evening, Ben offered to help me move across town! We have been fast friends and brothers from that time.

Ben and Mary (consummate animal lovers) are also the custodians of a most interesting petting zoo there in Plainfield. It’s difficult to quantify their labor of love as they pour heart and soul into helping, feeding, doctoring, and nurturing this amazing collection of animals! It would seem to me to be almost overwhelming but they continue to be the linchpins that make this marvelous place available for the public to enjoy. I can only stand in amazement!

I’ve been to a few zoos but had yet to see things like the coatimundi (Ben is state certified to handle wild animals) or a water buffalo. There was also an amazing collection of ducks, geese, pigs, miniature horses, bison, dogs, and deer! Ben and Mary actually built some of the housing structures and they certainly are “out of pocket” on many items including food for the animals. It is a labor of love, to be sure and I trust that any and all who are concerned with the zoo will understand this to the fullest.

Ben, being the wise man that he is, remembered where they parked a “Golden Corral” buffet. Now, Ol’ Brother Ran has yet to meet a “Golden Corral” that he didn’t like so I concurred with his decision to haul our pink fundaments over there for lunch! I know that I keep saying it but, it’s true; we hurt the steam tables.

It was great to get to see them again and I’m ever so thankful that they could share their time and the zoo with us. I would that everyone had such family as Ben and Mary. They both had music lessons for the remainder of the day and into the evening so it was hugs all around and we were BOI. All we need is a nice fast airplane and we can visit them more often.

As was planned, we retraced our route back to Hillsboro to see Gene again. We are thankful to be able to visit for friends and family at all but when we can actually get to visit twice, we are elated! After spending the night in nearby Litchfield, we drove the few miles to Hillsboro.  Litchfield is on the main highway but Hillsboro is one of those places that you have go to on purpose. You are not going to find Hillsboro while on your way to someplace else unless you are lost.

Once again we visited with our dear brother for a good long time. It was grand to share old memories from so long ago and to rehash old events many of which I had forgotten about. Ah, how nice it was to dust off the old stories and tales…er…most of them anyway. Tee hee.

It was difficult to have to leave my brother behind but we had to “ease on down the road”. Hugs all around and we’re BOI.

Gas was 3.03 when we departed Litchfield. The weather was nice!

The next stop was Jefferson City, MO at another “Super 8”. This was an exceptional motel this time. “8’s” are usually fine but this one was a cut above.

Day11: We’re headed south from Jeff City because I wanted Connie to see the Ozark Mountains. I was fortunate to see that region many years ago but she hadn’t been to Missouri.

There was more-than-a-pleasant surprise awaiting us in Ozark. I almost fell out of the van when I saw the big “Lambert’s” sign along the highway! “Lambert’s” is the “home of the throwed rolls” (sic). Thanks to dear friend and sister, Becky Sanders, I had become acquainted with the “Lambert’s” in Foley, AL and had actually stood at the door of the one in Sikeston, MO. The one in Sikeston had the nerve to be closed when I showed up! I had totally forgotten that the third restaurant was in Ozark! And, we were there just in time for lunch! Such a deal! Whoo hoo!

To say that the food is “good” at “Lambert’s” is like saying an aircraft carrier is a nice boat. All you have to do to enjoy their sumptuous feast is…wait for about an hour. Yep. You have to stand in line and work up an appetite. God created all men equal and “Lambert’s” abides by that rule. Everybody waits.

I had the grilled pork chops while Connie selected the chicken fried steak. The pork chops were each as large as a size 12 tennis shoe and Connie’s steak was the size of a Chevy hubcap! The sides were: black eyed peas, turnip greens with ham, fried potatoes and onions, baked potatoes, and more! Then they toss or throw you a large yeast roll! “Doggie bag, please!”.

After stuffing ourselves silly, we again headed south. When going through that part of Missouri, almost everyone immediately thinks of Branson. Yep. Being the really sharp “Weedeater” that I am, I thought of that too. I didn’t expect there to be much happening during the day and I was correct. That’s fine for me. I really only wanted to drive around and take a few pictures of the big theaters they have where all of the big names perform. We grabbed a Pepsi refill and continued our trip on Highway 65.

Not that I was planning it but, we really did take the “scenic route”. We’re not afraid to follow the path less traveled and did so this time. This is to say that we followed what appeared to be the obvious route to I-40 West. This leap of faith led us to Eureka Springs, AK where they have the “Passion Play” during summer time. I had heard about the play when I lived in Tulsa but had never been there. They have a neat train station/depot where steam engine trains rides are available for a nominal charge. The entire town is also quite photogenic so we took a lot of pictures.

Then next big town was Fayetteville, AK. After fueling, we made our way to Salisaw, OK for the night. Sallisaw, you may recall, is the home of the notorious gangster, Pretty Boy Floyd who was killed by law enforcement officers in Ohio. That pretty well ended his career as a bank robber.

A really interesting stop was at the little burg not far from Sallisaw. It is the quaint town of Vian, OK. Connie and I had stopped there four years ago or so while on our trip to Memphis and back. Turns out that, not only did we get to stay at a quiet and out of the way locally owned motel (read: "The smell of curry was no where to be found"), Vian is where our aunt, Bobbie Sanders Foster, used to live as a young girl! Bobbie shared with us many of her experiences there when she was younger. This trip we took the time to take some pictures so that we can show her how the place has changed (or not).

Next stop was in Moore, OK where we had hoped to find cousin, Danny Phillips. Though unable to do so due to a scheduling conflict, we were able to visit with his mother, Shirley. Imagine our surprise when Danny’s brother, Jack, showed up! We hadn’t met him yet (or the younger brother either) so it was a real treat to get to meet him. You could call us the “chatterbox clan” because we had a great time sharing our respective recollections of family and events. Shirley is a natural writer and has a powerful recall of many things including her family history. Since Connie and I will be publishers soon, we hope to be able to help her get her information out to others! Yet again, it was hugs all around and we’re BOI (back on the Interstate). We called it quits in Denton, TX (not far from Dallas).

Please stay tuned as things are about to get really interesting! We’re going to New Orleans!

Home Home on the Ranch - Chapter 1

Man! We are really really glad to be back home! Talk about bushed-and-a-half! If I were a ’39 Ford, my axel would be dragging! It will take a couple of weeks to unwind from R&C’s Big Adventure.

Only a few bags and suitcases made it into the house the night we returned. The remainder of the “stuff” (not sure what else to call the compendium of trip snacks, yard sale items, foodstuff goodies, clearance sale items from Wal-Mart, and what all) would have to patiently wait until we had the energy to haul it into the inner sanctum. This could take awhile.

It was a hoot to hit the hay and find that our expensive heiney-fit mattress had Alzheimer’s and lost its memory while we were away. After flopping onto our weight resistant, buttock supporting, supercalifornyrealistic wonder bed, we found that it was like diving into a swimming pool that had no water in it. We basically are going to have to take a week or so to re-mold the bloody thing to our aging and fatigued airframes. Being too tired to argue with a demented bed, we just called it a night. Surprisingly, it was at least as good a night’s sleep as we got in the Super 8 Motels.

We missed some of our dear friends and family on the outbound leg of the trip. So, it was our desire to catch them on the flip-flop. Though our spirit was willing, our flesh was weaker than my mother’s coffee. Our sincerest apologies to all. We will try again when we can. When your body screams vile and opprobrious epithets at you for not giving it enough time to rest, you need to listen. After my body finally threatened to sue for a divorce, we turned the grill west instead of north. Had we slowed down there would have been a body parts revolution. 

In fact, Connie and I are trying to find ways to be able to make more than one annual trip to the east. I advised dear friend and brother, Ben Garwood of Plainfield, IL that all we needed was a couple of dump trucks full of hundred dollar bills and it would all work out just fine! Uh huh.

It will be difficult to express just how great this trip has been but I’ll try. To begin, we actually got started rather late in the game. The plan had been to be in Texas by the first week in November. That simply was impossible for us to do. We were taking care of the completion of our barn project (you know…the “8 weeks” project that has taken nine months to complete). Plus, there were other factors that were governing our life like business and such. As it turned out, our timing was perfect.

When you travel in the winter, the concern is always about the weather. I-40 through Flagstaff, AZ is always a messy area. I’ve been through there in January and it can get your attention. Being an arrogant, ignorant, and/or inconsiderate driver on an snow road can leave you upside down in the median with your luggage packed tightly around your shoulders and your fresh cup of Starbucks filling at least one ear. It isn’t uncommon to see stretches of I-40 closed from Flagstaff to Winslow or from (much of) Albuquerque to Tucumcari. The reasonable solution is to take I-10 which affords fewer weather assaults.

Our trip actually commenced from Harbor City/Torrance where we were guests at granddaughters, Liesl and Cosette’s, birthday party. Their birthdays are close together so we can opt for the one-bash-for-two-cuties party schedule. That also means that we started our trip picking up I-10 from the I-405 at Santa Monica. “Go east, old man”, and so it was on a warm and bright day.

There really is an awful lot of I-10. It stretches from Santa Monica, CA all the way to Jacksonville, FL. Talk about being able to see a “slice of America”! I’ve been on I-10 as far as Pensacola, FL and can testify to the awesome beauty and diversity of the southern parts of our country. There are stretches of I-10 that can also provoke comments such as tendered by my daughter, Jennifer, when we drove from California to Abilene for son, Jeff’s, wedding in ’98. After three days on the road she blurted, “Does the scenery ever change?!”. It did.... once we entered downtown Abilene.

On this journey we decided to not “drive ‘til you drop” before taking up camp. Both of our bodies were delighted about this decision. The first camp was made at the “Super 8” in Blythe. We’re somewhat fond of “Super 8” particularly after an extremely pleasant experience at one of the inns in southern Oklahoma last year. However, we soon discovered that not all watermelons are created equal. Being individually owned, some of the “8’s” were sub-par both in service and maintenance. You pays your money and you takes your chances when lodging at a motel of their modest price range.

From Blythe we meandered up to Prescott Valley, AZ to see friends and fellow ministers, Tom and Jan Luke. Unfortunately, our timing was a tad off. Wouldn’t you know that we would pick a time smack in the middle of “Volante Academy of the Arts’s” big Christmas pageant in downtown Prescott. So, we didn't get too hook up with them on this go around. We had hoped to make it back there on the return trip but were unable to this time. Check them out at: http://volanteacademy.org/. You can help support a ministry of excellence!

What we did do was head over to Sedona. The route there takes you through the old mining-town-turned-tourist-trap of Jerome. Given the fact that it was about 4 PM and that we had worn out our breakfast, we knocked over “Jerome Palace”. One of the specialties is the “Haunted Burger”. After we cast the spirits out of it, it was quite tasty! After taking a lot of pictures of the area we continued our trek.

However, by the time we reached Sedona it was dark. That was an unqualified "bummer dude" event.  However, the drive north through “Oak Creek Canyon” was still nice because the various inns and motels along the way were decked out with Christmas lights. We hit the end of the rope at Winslow. Had it not been at night, we would have stopped at the Meteor Crater near there. I've been there before but Connie has not. It cost one arm, one leg, one grandchild, and a well-polished hubcap to get in, but, it's (argueably) worth it to see a mile deep chunk of 15,000 year old history.

With our coffee and soda cups full, the next day (day 3) found us enjoying an uneventful trip on I-40 to Amarillo, TX. Actually, we did have an “event” in Gallup, NM. Someone (bless their darlin' hearts and all of their vital organs too) left a “Golden Corral” open for lunch. We stopped in for a bite and found that, when we left, we had made money on the deal. There were only light snacks that night because we were still full!

There was great delight taken over the 2.89 gas price at the locally owned pit stop! Our California fill-up was at 3.54! Wonder who we can blame for that? The southwestern motif place was exceptional in that it harbored a gorgeous red 1950 Buick sedan and a  red and black 1941 Chevy flat bed truck! They also had lots of bric-a-brac with which to temp tourists but…we had already prayed, “Lead us not into temptation”. So, were able to leave the place with full fuel and an empty bladder and nothing else other than a Pepsi refill. Moving on down the Interstate....there was a bit of snow left lying around on the roadsides but the highway was clear and dry.

From Amarillo, the route was straight to OKC then I-44 to Tulsa. There was a light rain most of the way but nothing like the mid-west “frog strangler” storms. It was a piece of pie (hoping to conjure up thoughts of the movie "2010"). The laundry was attended to then we called it a night. Gas 2.87 to 2.94.

OK…time to sleep in. The continental breakfast was not substantial enough to keep us from lazing our way into the morning. Besides, there was a coffee pot in the room (did I tell you that I prefer “Super 8” motels?). When we finally did crack an eyelid, I asked Connie for the bag that contained my toiletries. She handed me this dinky rectangle that I was sure could only hold a pair of socks and an eyebrow pencil. “You’re kidding!”, I thought. But, when the pouch was opened, lo and behold, there before my coffee assisted eyes, lay my two brushes, my deodorant, my slick’em smell’em (“Old Spice”, don’tcha know), a can of shaving cream, my regular razor, and my electric razor! If anyone ever asks if they know anyone who can pack 3 pounds of sugar in a 2 pound sack, tell them that my wife can! We sort of wallowed our way into the day after that.

Dear friend and brother, Red Polston and his wife, Patty, met us at 71^st and Memorial for lunch. Red is the leader of the pack for “Halo Jordan” Christian ministry band. You need to check these guys out but only if your feet aren’t broken because you’ll need to tap at least one foot: (http://www.halojordan.com). If your pocketbook isn’t broken, you will be blessed if you would be a part of their ministry. Red is a “prayin’ man” and knows how to pray blessings upon us.  

Now, you need to understand that “his Redness” is a great cook and that he is not known to dine at dives. That’s why his and Patty’s discriminating palates took us to “Famous Dave’s BBQ”. It is absolutely no wonder that Dave is famous! The waitresses fetched us, get this, a large trash can lid (lined with wax paper) loaded with BBQ ribs, brisket, and grilled chicken along with side orders of fries and corn on the cob! A couple of us dang near needed knuckle replacements after vying for the scrumptious goodies.

After barely making it out of the place due to overstressing the flooring and after hugs-all-around, the two California travelers eased out of the parking lot. Can you imagine our surprise when a huge ‘possum waddled his way across our path! My camera wasn’t at hand so I missed the “shot for the day”! The critter ducked underneath the wooden deck of “Famous Daves”. Uh…I wonder…naw. Anyway, it was time to go to Uncle Ron and Aunt Sue’s place.

Ron and Sue greeted us with hugs and smiles. We settled in for a great visit. After awhile and due to all of the non-union jaw work, we had worked up yet another appetite (my...but we humans do have our frailties, eh?). I had remembered a favorite burger place from when I lived in Tulsa in the early ‘80’s. Come to find out, “Goldies” was still around and still providing one of the best burgers anywhere so Ron and Sue took us there. They have a condiment bar from which you can load your flame-grilled burger and bun. Life is good at “Goldies”. After that, we headed back to the house, visited awhile longer, then made for the snore sack.

Day 6: After a nice home-made breakfast with Ron and Sue, some general lollygagging, and, after straightening out a few computer issues with their computers (computer dudes are handy gadgets to have around), it was time to bid “adios” to our hosts. Both are great at spoiling relatives so we wanted to testify that they scored the highest of marks on our score cards!

With Tulsa in our rearview mirror, our route was northbound to Fort Scott, KS via I-44 Will Rogers Turnpike. On the way we encountered the famous former world’s largest MacDonald’s over-the-freeway pit stop at Vanita, OK. Though we’d stopped there before a few years ago, we simply had to stop again. It was nice to sample the “Blue Bell” ice cream again! Connie had pumpkin spice and I savored the mocha madness.

It's only a few hours to Fort Scott, Kansas from Tulsa. Fort Scott is noteworthy for a lot of things. One is that it’s my mother’s home town. OK. She’s not all that famous. I “Googled” her and all that it said was “Who?”. However, it is where the first national cemetery is located. Also, it was one of the way points on the Pony Express route. If that isn’t enough to wax your mustache, they rebuilt the original fort after which the town is named (Gen. Winfield Scott)! It’s complete with tourist traps which reach out and grab passing folks by the legs and that don’t let go until you pay for a ticket to tour the place. I stayed out of reach because I’ve already been there some years ago and paid for my release.

Cousins Rick and Carol Singmaster and daughter Sylvia along with cousin Gary Singmaster and his full-time special lady, Kelly, all got together for supper at a rather unique diner near Pittsburg, KS. The place is called, “Chicken Annies” which, of course, serves the best chicken in the land. We did our part in making a dent in the chicken population that evening. To say the least, it was fabulous! The side of fries and the garlic coleslaw boosted the meal up even higher on my list. Though many folks don’t doubt their claim, the other restaurant next door, “Chicken Mary’s” apparently takes exception. Guess where we will pig out on chicken the next time we come through this way again?

With "God bless you" and hugs all around, we headed back to the motel for some much needed rest prior to the next leg...and thigh (heheh...I crack myself up).

Stay tuned for the next chapter of “Connie and Randy’s Big Adventure”