Fast forward to the '87 Sipapu Rally, outside Taos, New Mexico. That was a rainy weekend but one of the better times I've had at a rally. It's held at a ski lodge, with a very welcoming bar, hosted by a bartender who really knew and enjoyed his work. Our group, Helene included, sort of camped there, making room for new arrivals, as we waited out the rain. Great three days; in addition to getting to hear The Best Travel Story I've Ever Heard (I'm saving that for next winter), we also spent some time on the ski shop pay phone, using someone's credit card to call England. We were making arrangements for my wife and I to borrow a BMW from a couple Helene had gotten to know in London, while she was on her tour of Europe. Just one more illustration of how this crazy world of bikes and good people is connected in ways one could not imagine.

That winter, in January, on what had been a $350 basket case 1970 R60/5, I headed south on my first venture to Mexico. People who have done this either love or hate Mexico, depending on their experiences while down there. I loved it. Took about ten days, very leisurely, to get from Colorado Springs to Cancun. My wife flew in for a week, flew out again and I headed back north. Other than colliding with a kid on a bicycle after dark (what they say about driving at night IS TRUE), and eleven flat tires, the trip went smoothly. The kid, by the way, emerged the clear winner in the collision. I doubt if I would have done this, the first of four Mexico trips, so far, had I not had the opportunity to listen to Helene's tales of her time south of the border.

The summer of 1988 found us flying to London, to be met by Max and Wendy Perry, two lovely and generous Britishers who hosted us, lent us their freshly serviced R60/7 and gave us directions to start us out on a three week tour of England. When they came over here a couple of years later, it was nice to partially repay their generosity.

While all this travel was done on other BMW's, Strider continued to run up his share of the miles. Also, a few more bumps, dents and scratches. I hit some gravel on a freeway on-ramp and crashed in the fall of '89. I got a bit of a concussion out of the deal (would have been far worse without the helmet!) and Strider was cosmetically pretty bad. I was able to ride home. Ordered about $400 worth of replacement bits and pieces and waited for the mind to clear, which took about a week. About two weeks later, I had all the parts, spent a pleasant fall morning getting Strider looking good again, finished about noon and headed downtown to try him out and run some errands. About an hour later, while on a downtown street, someone abruptly changed lanes and plowed me under! A cut knee to me, virtually the same damage to Strider as two weeks earlier. The offending driver of the car was: new to town, played in a bar band, appeared to be coked up, was in his girlfriend's two day ago acquired beat up old car that was uninsured and had an outstanding warrant out on him. As the police were preparing to take him away, he looked me and Strider up and down and said, "Do you think $1500 would cover it?" I knew it more than would, so he proceed to write me a personal check. What odds, ladies and gentlemen, would you give that that check would clear? Well, it did.

Continued to average around 12,000 miles a year on Strider, going to Hobo and Pyrotechnic conventions and rallies. That nursing job really was the best I've ever had. I would pile on the shifts in the holiday time when all my coworkers wanted time off. Then, when they wanted to work to pay off Christmas, I would take off for Mexico. By January of 1989, I had sold the first "Mexico Bike" and replaced it with a ''72 R75/5, "La Vaca Guma." It had been a $500 non-runner. As I rebuilt it, I lowered the compression AND dual plugged it - perfect for the Mexican 81 octane "Nova" regular. Looks like hell, with all the hand-painted parts and rusty pipes, but runs oh-so-smooth, It's done three runs south, so far, and is a nice back-up bike when Strider is being worked on.

1989 saw another six weeks in Mexico; in 1990 we also got into Belize and Guatemala on a seven week run. The spring of '89, we received an invitation to be part of an archeological dig outside of Belfast in Northern Ireland. One of my old hotline friends was going after his doctorate and was organizing a summer-long project. I considered this the sign: it's time to quit our jobs, ship the bike to Europe, work on the dig and then bum around Europe until the money runs out or we are tired of it. My wife didn't see the same sign however and was reluctant to give up her federal civil service job. That wasn't the end of the marriage but, perhaps, signaled the beginning of the end. We ended up taking as much time as we could - her 3 weeks, me 7 weeks and going over. I rode to my brother's in Massachusetts and, flew over, she joined me in Belfast later. As this was a working holiday and none of us had transport, we didn't get to get out of the Belfast area. Still, it was one more fascinating adventure. I returned home, via the East coast, timing my return to include the Hobo and Pyrotechnic conventions, once again. Strider soldiered on, at about 270,000 miles.

Upon our return, home life was not the same. We divorced in early 1991. No Mexico trip that winter, got to the National in Rapid City that summer. That summer, I got word of another potential adventure: living for a year in London. I would need a year to prepare.

To be continued..... Matt Parkhouse