Son, Clint, works
for Idaho Power and helps maintain their power generation facilities. He frequently works extended shifts where he
will work 8 or 10 days in a row and then gets several days off. He was on one of those shifts at this
time. He had been looking for a work
truck for some time and found one on Craig’s List that was in Boise.
Since he would not be able to get over to look at it for several days I
agreed to look it over on my way back and leave a deposit if it looked acceptable.
I was on the road
again at 6:00 a.m. heading west to Boise. A cold front was moving in and instead of the
more normal morning east wind I had the worst head wind of the whole trip. While the southern Nevada side gusts were worse from the
standpoint of safety, this was brutal. I
had to lean down and forward as far as possible on my tank bag and hang on to the
handlebars for dear life. I had to stop
four times in the 80 miles to Boise
to warm up and rest. The first stop was
at a Rest Area where I went in the restroom and put on another layer of
clothes.
The truck was
actually located in a residential area called Hidden Hills about 15 miles north
of Boise. When I finally got there it was like a maze
and I had some trouble finding the place.
When I eventually got close I asked directions from a neighbor and found
the right house. The truck was a 2001
Dodge half ton with only 63,000 miles on it.
It was a former Forest Service vehicle and looked to me just like the
Plain Jane rig Clint wanted. I drove it
and it seemed tight and well serviced. I
wasn’t able to reach Clint on my phone so I went ahead and committed the deposit. Getting out of this area was even worse than
getting in. I knew (somewhere) there was
a road that would take me directly to highway 55 so I wouldn’t have to
backtrack to Boise. Again I had to seek directions and a lady
agreed to take me to the road which she did.
Fortunately Clint
did like the truck. His sister, Hallie,
said now we can say, “Here comes ole Ranger Clint”.
The fierce wind
stayed with me all the way to Riggins although it certainly wasn’t as severe as
on the Interstate that morning. I picked
up a few more caches along the way and got home about 4:30 p.m. lacking 4 miles
of having 2,500 on my GPSr. I guess I
should have made a few loops around the neighborhood.
I learned a lot on
this trip. I don’t think I’ll motorcycle
through Nevada
again and if I do it won’t be by myself.
I love my little Triumph but it’s really not intended to be a touring
bike. I have road side assistance insurance
on my dual sport BMW which I frequently use on back country non-paved roads but
not on my Triumph. I will on my next
trip.
This journey was
like something painted over with dark disaster and then with an added light
coat of rescue. There are some good
folks out there and I was fortunate to find some when I needed them. My little disasters could have been so much
worse. Thanks for reading along and
enduring my tale of woe. M/W
3 comments:
There's a reason it's called "Hidden Hills." Great truck. Great dad.
If you focus on the reason for your trip...picking up Nevada geocaches and the fact that you accomplished that, maybe your trip will be remembered as a successful one. The adventures that you had may have been harrowing, frustrating and unwanted, but any journey has a fair dose of trouble and woe.
How many geocaches did you pick up?
It is always a relief to know that Dad is home, safe, and sustained no physical harm on his adventure.
I think I got 42 caches in NV and 8 or 10 more in ID. If the sense of accomplishment matches the difficulty of the task, this was a great trip.
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