The Final Daze

So, here we are, Austin, Texas, Monday, May 10, 2010, having arrived from Mexico Wednesday, May 5 and Thursday, May 6, 2010, I the former, Joe and Juanita the latter, as I'd left them in a roach motel in beautiful Dilley, Texas, Joe essentially delirious from his poopy diaper syndrome and lack of food and his dehydration, and ridden on the last few hours to Austin.  J&J made it to our house the next day, Joe feeling a bit better, but not by any means whole, and then Juanita came down with it, and I had a milder version.  The usual "I bet it was the enchiladas at that truck stop," or "Maybe it was the salad at..." conjectures went on until yesterday, as we all suffered from physical ennui, general malaise, and the Dread Malhungus, but then Suzanne was stricken in the night, and it became apparent this was not the infamous "Montezuma's Revenge" (me, personally, if I was Montezuma?  My revenge would be more severe than diarrhea and vomiting; I'd go for something like, oh, full-body shingles for life), but a contagious bug, a virus perhaps.  Regardless, much sittings on couches and sleepings in beds ensued from last Thursday until yesterday, when J&J began to make serious noises about Westward Ho.

This morning, bike packed, mostly into their driving suits, the weather report I checked for Van Horn in west Texas called for 30-50 mph winds out of the WSW, with gusts to 70mph.  Faces fell. Options abounded.  "Don't go today" entreaties were made.  Finally the decision was made to go to Fort Stockton, which had no dire warnings of wind (speaking of dire warnings of wind, there are some restaurants in Mexico whose beans should come with such admonitory alerts), and just awhile ago they zipped away from La Casa De Los Goodrich.

Suzanne and I count ourselves extremely lucky to have had such congenial guests as J&J for a few extra days, and to have cemented new, no doubt long-lasting friendships with them.  Likewise, our erstwhile companions, father and son, Dave and Garin, will always find a welcome in our home.

Lagniappe for the motorcycle nerds reading this:

Despite our somewhat reduced physical circumstances, Joe and I managed to wash the trillions of bugs and other spooge and schmutz off our bikes the other day, and partially disassemble Joes's dashboard so we could get at his headlamp adjuster and set it properly, as well as replace both windhsield upper struts, all without breaking or losing much.  I think there was only one screw left over when we buttoned his bike back up.  Then we undid my dash and figured out a way to secret my radar detector behind the fairing, out of view of prying eyes, again without breaking anything obvious, and only having a short-term extra-screws situation.  I think we only had to have one do-over.  Joe was especially pleased that we had to go to Harbor Freight in search of some electrical connectors, as he found just the right stubby wrench (similar to this, only yellow and with "ergonomic knurls") he needed for headlamp adjustment, but then proceeded to fret, worry, whine, and bemoan the lack of a 13mm socket with which to make such adjustment, never mind the fact that he likely has several at home.  So, this morning, as a bon voyage gift, I gave him my priceless, vintage 1969 Powr-Craft (Montgomery Ward Brand) 1/2-inch socket, which works admirably as a 13mm in non-critical applications.  

Right about now he should be approaching Dripping Springs, Texas, about 25 miles from Austin, and is likely searching for a good place to pull over to check the headlamp aiming.

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