Day 1- Am I Crazy?

OK, I never claimed to be any kinda tough guy. And I ain’t never been the type that cared anything ‘bout braggin rights over survivin cold weather rides. So, what the hell was I thinkin when I accepted my bud, Muthuh’s invitation to join him on his annual winter campout ride? I guess I was thinkin it’ll be a few months before good ridin weather is again upon us, and I would like to see some of my long-distance buds again before Old Man Winter makes his presence known. This winter camp ride Muthuh takes each year is usually done as a solo thing…but, for whatever reasons, this year he decided to invite along a few of the misfits he rides with. Now, it would seem me ‘n Dog were the only two dain bramaged enough to take him up on it…soooo, here it is December 22, and me, Dog and Muthuh were meetin up at Morrow Mountain State Park just east of Charlotte, NC for a li’l tent campin adventure.

So, it’s EARLY Saturday morn…the first day of my four days off for Christmas…and the alarm clock is ringin in my ear! Huh? Who the hell’s the dumbass that set that thing? Oh yeah, that’d be me wouldn’t it. Well, I DO have 320 miles to go…and we DID agree to try meetin up ‘round 2 this afternoon…soooo, I drag my butt outta bed and hit the shower. The scoot’s already packed so I take the time to have a cup ‘o jo before makin tracks, and tune in to the local news for a weather update…only to see that it is currently 32 degrees outside. ..sheeeesh! Now, we did agree this was a last minute decision kinda thing…and I technically do still have the option of backin outta this ride…but the others have already committed…and I’m bringin the tent. Yep, we would be sharin a family sized tent so we could all take advantage of Muthuh’s catalytic tent heater he was bringin along. ‘Sides, I would rather ride 300+ miles in the cold than put up with the never-endin shit I would surely catch from my buds if’n I backed outta this ride.

So, I’m geared up and pullin outta the drive ‘bout a quarter til 7…and it’s COLD headin down the highway at 60 mph! Oh well, it’ll probably warm up quick…right? ‘Bout 70 miles down the road, I stop at a li’l country store for a fillup and some breakfast at their grill. They have the news on, and the weather guesser is tellin me it’s now warmed up to a balmy 36 degrees. Woo Hoo! A freakin heat wave! Knowin that I’ll be hittin I-40 in ‘bout ten miles, and headin into the higher elevations shortly thereafter, I elect to don my rain gear for that little extra layer of protection from the cold. A thinkin man ya know. Well…lo ‘n behold…’bout ten miles after I get on I-40, I pass under a road conditions sign and it’s tellin me it’s now 53 degrees. WTF!? I pull my trusty fleece-lined leather bandana down from my face, and find that it is indeed warm out now. As I climb higher ‘n higher into the hills, it gets warmer ‘n warmer. Now, I’m not ‘zactly a meteorlogical expert or anything, but ain’t that backwards from yer usual temperature gradients?

I enjoy an uneventful and warm…albeit overcast and gloomy…ride on over to Albemarle, NC just outside the Park, and stop for supplies…read “beer”. I stuff some beer and other supplies into my saddlebags, and head into the Park. I know, I know…alcoholic beverages aren’t allowed in the park…but in the words of that famous philosopher, Forrest Gump, “It’s just a little white lie.” Anyways, I find the campground, circle it checkin out the various campsites, and pick one right in front of the bathhouse and toilets. Hey, I AM old enough that proximity to the toilet in the middle of the night matters ya know! Not even a full minute after I pull into that spot, my buds show up and start givin me grief ‘bout pickin a spot right in front of the toilets…and then agree it’s the best spot in the campground. Did I mention they’re just as old as I am? hehe

We get camp set up, and Dog ‘n Muthuh head into town to pick up a couple things…read “beer”…while I wait at camp for the Park Ranger, and get us registered for the night. The Ranger turned out to be a right nice li’l gal, and we had a pleasant conversation ‘bout her education and how she always wanted to be a Ranger. Turns out, to be a Ranger in the state of North Carolina ya have to be police certified…and carry a firearm…a Glock 21 in this particular case. She tells me she’s goin for her mace certification next, and has to get sprayed in the face to qualify for carryin that stuff. Of course, bein the smartass I am, I ask her if she had to get shot to carry her Glock. I thought it a pretty lame joke as soon as it passed thru my lips, but she seemed to get quite a chuckle outta it. Kewl, we drew a Ranger with a sense of humor…or at least one that took pity on me and my feeble attempt at humor.

Anyways, the Ranger soon continues on her way, and shortly thereafter Dog ‘n Mut return from town, and we settle in for an eve ‘round the campfire. Now, before any of ya’s knock us for violatin the state-wide ban on open fires…we were usin a little state approved, propane rig that Muthuh brought…complete with fake logs in an elevated pan. Pretty neat li’l rig he acquired after the campin coordinator provided us with one at the Buffalo Chip in Sturgis last year. As with most of our evenins ‘round the fire on these rides, the ambiance becomes more ‘n more windy and alcoholic as the night progresses. We’re fortunate enough to be graced with a full moon as we bullshit our way into the night, and are often visited by deer that I guess have come to see what all the fuss is about. Truth is they’re probably used to gettin fed ‘round these campsites, but we’re too busy stuffin our own faces with the treats my li’l missus, CK, packed for us…brownies, rice crispy treats, seasoned chex mix, and a heapin helpin of sausage balls warmed over the fire. Hmmmmm hmmmm! We drank a toast to CK for the treats…ok, several toasts…and to our buds that couldn’t join us… and several more toasts…well, just for the sake of makin sure we covered everything. After a while, the brats were done, and we stumbled to ‘n fro as we retrieved one…two…and for some of us…three brats from the grill. Ahhhhhh…life is good!

After runnin outta beer…and gas for the fire…we decide to turn in for the night. We had already set up our beds in the tent, so I head in first and get settled into my sleepin bag. Dog was next, and did his bodily gyrations as I watched him struggle into his bag. Ya know how on every bike ride there’s always that one Homer moment everyone gets a real chuckle outta? Ya might remember a few rides back, it was my turn on the Key West ride…remember?...”SHARK SHARK”? Well, after Dog gets settled in, I’m layin there lookin at him, and can see his jeans and shirt…and well, I can see that he’s just layin under his bag…not in it. I tell Dog, “Yer not gonna stay very warm like that.” Ole Dog just pulls the bag up under his chin and says, “Sure I will. It’s a new bag.” And, as he’s holdin it up to his face, he looks at both edges in his hands and says, “It’s one of them new double layered bags or something.” I start laughin my ass off and tell him, “It’s not any kinda new fangled bag, Dog…yer just not in the damned thing!” BWAHAHA! Dog realizes the alcoholic error of his ways, and quickly drowns out my laughter with his own.

After much ribbin Dog ‘bout his sleepin bag disorder, we’re all three soon settled into our beds, and I’m thinkin as I drift off to sleep, “No, I’m not crazy. These are good times.” See ya in the mornin for the ride home.