We left early Sunday morning, hoping to get to Muskegan, Michagan, for the Pyrotechnics Guild International week-long convention, by evening. Would have made it but as we pulled into an Iowa I-80 rest stop, Susanna pulled in her clutch lever and nothing happened. Upon inspection, I found that one one of the "ears" of the rear of the gear box that holds the throw out arm had broken off and, fortunately, the throwout pieces were still there, held in by the end of the clutch cable and a lot of old grease. Even the broken off ear had fallen off right where Susanna had coasted to a halt. What to do? I, after a lot of pondering, came up with an idea worth trying. I cut off a branch from a pine tree in the rest stop ,and proceeded to whittle a wedge, with appropriately placed notches, to wedge the throw out arm against the back of the gear box. I jammed it against the forward part of the swingarm and safety wired all pieces to keep track of things when, as I was sure it would, it fell apart. Well, as things turned out, it held, with two stops to check and adjust it, all the way to Muskegan. The delay did make us miss the opening Sunday night show of the Convention as we, exhausted by the loud, late nights of Britt, called it a night in a motel a hundred miles South. We rolled in the next morning, found our camping area with my friends from Conventions past and set up. The week went quickly, workshops, seminars and just hanging out in camp during the day, spectacular pyrotechnics at night. During the week, I pulled Susanna's gearbox in camp (torque wrench and ground down 27mm socket?: don't leave home without 'em). Located a welding shop that does aluminum work and rode over on Strider with the gearbox. Picked it up a couple of hours later, bought a small rat-tail file to smooth out the holes in the pivot ears, applied new grease to the throw out assembly and anti-seize to the input splines and we were back in business. Each night was better and more impressive than the last. By the end of the week, we were sated as far as pyrotechnics goes. Headed home to get some rest.

September saw us get a computer (totally new to me!) and then I left town to go to Lake Powell with my men friends for a week, while Susanna set up the new toy (excuse me, useful tool). I had to rewire the back room before I left; we now have ONE grounded outlet in this house, built in 1886, wired by Nicolas Tesla, or so it seems.

We puttered around on a number of day, overnight rides and getting started on the Airhead List! Then we set off on November 5th on a month long tour of the Southwest. Seemed every one we stayed with was online, so we retrieved our email as we went along. While we were in Tucson; Rich Strickland, not knowing who or where we were, extended an invitation to stop by if we were ever in El Centro. So, that evening we dropped in for his Barley Therapy and Neighborhood Watch. This got started years ago when Rich felt guilty for ignoring his dog. So, after work, he would sit in the garage and have a couple of beers in the company of the dog. Friends were invited to share this time. Well, the dog has long since died but the tradition has somehow been maintained. Nice group of folks. We spent the night there, leaving for the Stonestreets' the next morning. This list IS a nice way to meet people! Stayed with Larry and Sue Stonestreet for several days, rolled on to LA and stayed with old high school era friends. Toured the old Getty Museum, just before it was closed for the move to the new one on the mountain. Venice Beach was a mind-bending zoo. I had to share my old downtown Skid Row haunts with Susanna. French dip at Phillippe's. The Watts Towers. And so on. Up to Midland School in the Santa Ynez Valley (now across the road from Neverland: Micheal Jackson's ranch). Had Thanksgiving there, several of my Class ('68) alumni were there. Turned around there, and started back. Dropped south to stay warm and headed East to Tucson. Stayed there a couple of days, not wanting to head North just yet as we enjoyed the warmth of southern Arizona in early December. Finally, we could delay no more and took off. Stayed in the hostel at Truth or Consequenses (they have hot springs!) for $21 for the two of us in a private room. Next morning we sent out late, as it was a little chilly. Got as far up I-25 as Las Vegas, New Mexico. The hostel there is closed; looked like something from the Addams Family, all surrounded by scaffolding, one light on on the second floor. We got a cheap motel instead. December 5th, we set out in 40 degree cloudy weather, expecting to be home by dinnertime as we were about 350 miles south of home.

Just North of Wagon Mound, in those wide-open windy places, we ran into very high cross winds and then, blowing 3 day old snow. We could have handled the winds on dry pavement, or the snow without the wind; but not both. We pulled over to wait for the wind to abate. I was ahead of Susanna a hundred yards or so. As the wind gusted, I looked down to get my face out of it. The next thing I felt was a tremendous impact and I was flying. While tumbling in the air, I saw this immense white wall with lettering and big wheels: I'd been struck by a truck. I hit the ground and as I stopped rolling, the agonizing pain in my back told me: "this trip is over and a new adventure has begun."

To be continued... Matt Parkhouse