red1100cc
Registered
I haven't written for a year or more and I think its time to start again.
I know yall have some good stories too. i'd like to read them.
but 1st let me tell yall a story.
this is just one of the many adventures of PacMan.
Pac was more than a person, he was a personality. he taught me how to tour ride like the ol timer used to. what to pack, and how to get by without.
let me tell you a short excerpt from the 5th or maybe it was the 6th trip I took with him.
we decided to meet in Prescott AZ. for the Motorcycle Rights Foundations (MRF) Best of the West convention.
Pac had been on the road for about a month or so, visiting his 46yr old? daughter in California. I decided to ride down from Casper, through Albequerque, Flagstaff, Owl Canyon, Jerome.
I had a great ride in. arriving in Prescott to find Pac had talked his way into a motel room that I had to pay for when I arrived.
we had a beautiful view and it was only a short hike (that was about too much for ol PacMan) up to the casino where the convention was held.
but we hiked it anyway a few times to avoid the casino parking fee and shuttle ride fees. although they would taak you back to your motel for free. go figure, that seemed a little backwards to me.
well Pac and I had a good convention. learned lots of stuff about motorcycle rights and stuff. made good friends with the Whoodoo Hippies out of Idaho. and on a cool june morning we headed back twards home.
here' s where our adventure begins.
Pac on his 96 Dyna, and me on a worn out 82 1100 interstate. we head north.
"hay Pac, wanna go to the Grand Canyon?"
"Why Not?." he replies, in his raspy, I smoke too much and have acid reflux, voice.
as we entered the park the ranger advised him he was eligible for a golden ages pass.
this is where I learned we have the same 1st name!
"Here you go Russell Numan. Yall are free to enter the park."
"Your Name Is Russell!?!"
"ya, what the **** you think it was?!" he replied.
for 6 years I had only known the man as PacMan. He's PacMan!
now I know why Butch yelled at him for me carving my name in his bar, over and over and over.
we go enjoy the sights at the park and head back out twards Flagstaff.
my silly wing starts to sputter out. fouling plugs. we het into town and change out plugs. Pac does the same. figuring after 96,000mi he might need to change the plugs.
we spend the night.
th next day his mpg is up to 69mph! I am down to 25mpg.
my number 1 carb is flooding and I have to turn the gas off ever mile of so to starve that carb until it fires back up. oh, that, and im down to about 68mph max.
PacMan never complains, just stays right beside me, neck skin flappin in the wind.
we hit Holbrook. this is where I learn about creditcards and gas stations.
we go to get gas and we are broke! card no good! it turns out every station we stopped at held $20-$60 everytime we filled up.
oh no! what do we do Pac?
time to revert to my punk rock days. we spare changed at the flying J.
in 90min I got 90cents, PacMan got $90. I don't know $20s. I got 10 cents and quarters..lol
anyway we paid for gas and went to the bar for a drink or two to chill out.
it was about there I found a dead lizard in the parking lot. a big blue sucker. so I laid it across PacMan's leather jacket that he always kept strapped on his apehangers, just above the headlight.
and there it sat.
1, 2, 3, gas stops.
we stopped for dinner somewhere past the AZ NM border and it finally fell off kinda under his bike.
after a good dinner mom and pop style, we went back out to the bike.
"Hay Pac, don't forgit your lizard!"
"Yea, What about it?" he had ridden all that time never even noticing the big lizard on his handlebars! I couldn't believe it.
oh shoot, I cant leave out one of the best parts...somewhere in AZ, at a random pullout, while changing my plugs yet again, PacMan pulls out a TacoJohns Taco.
"where did you get a taco johns taco PacMan?"
"Casper"
"Brother, you haven't been in Casper Wyoming in a month and a half!'
"Want some?"
"No thank you PacMan!"
the man always had food, and was willing to share. most times you wouldn't want to touch it though!
that evening we pulled into a exit in the middle of the desert. pulled up to a house. and from the back we hear = "That sounds like a Wyoming bike to me!"
Pacs friends hadn't seen him in 4 years, had no clue we were coming and hooked us up with a 2 bedroom trailer. filled the swampcooler, internet was workin and everything.
what cool friends to have.
im a little tired and still have to type the rest of the story.
tomorrow I will tell you how we got bedbugs in Pueblo and Pac almost took home a Navy Gal.
I know yall have some good stories too. i'd like to read them.
but 1st let me tell yall a story.
this is just one of the many adventures of PacMan.
Pac was more than a person, he was a personality. he taught me how to tour ride like the ol timer used to. what to pack, and how to get by without.
let me tell you a short excerpt from the 5th or maybe it was the 6th trip I took with him.
we decided to meet in Prescott AZ. for the Motorcycle Rights Foundations (MRF) Best of the West convention.
Pac had been on the road for about a month or so, visiting his 46yr old? daughter in California. I decided to ride down from Casper, through Albequerque, Flagstaff, Owl Canyon, Jerome.
I had a great ride in. arriving in Prescott to find Pac had talked his way into a motel room that I had to pay for when I arrived.
we had a beautiful view and it was only a short hike (that was about too much for ol PacMan) up to the casino where the convention was held.
but we hiked it anyway a few times to avoid the casino parking fee and shuttle ride fees. although they would taak you back to your motel for free. go figure, that seemed a little backwards to me.
well Pac and I had a good convention. learned lots of stuff about motorcycle rights and stuff. made good friends with the Whoodoo Hippies out of Idaho. and on a cool june morning we headed back twards home.
here' s where our adventure begins.
Pac on his 96 Dyna, and me on a worn out 82 1100 interstate. we head north.
"hay Pac, wanna go to the Grand Canyon?"
"Why Not?." he replies, in his raspy, I smoke too much and have acid reflux, voice.
as we entered the park the ranger advised him he was eligible for a golden ages pass.
this is where I learned we have the same 1st name!
"Here you go Russell Numan. Yall are free to enter the park."
"Your Name Is Russell!?!"
"ya, what the **** you think it was?!" he replied.
for 6 years I had only known the man as PacMan. He's PacMan!
now I know why Butch yelled at him for me carving my name in his bar, over and over and over.
we go enjoy the sights at the park and head back out twards Flagstaff.
my silly wing starts to sputter out. fouling plugs. we het into town and change out plugs. Pac does the same. figuring after 96,000mi he might need to change the plugs.
we spend the night.
th next day his mpg is up to 69mph! I am down to 25mpg.
my number 1 carb is flooding and I have to turn the gas off ever mile of so to starve that carb until it fires back up. oh, that, and im down to about 68mph max.
PacMan never complains, just stays right beside me, neck skin flappin in the wind.
we hit Holbrook. this is where I learn about creditcards and gas stations.
we go to get gas and we are broke! card no good! it turns out every station we stopped at held $20-$60 everytime we filled up.
oh no! what do we do Pac?
time to revert to my punk rock days. we spare changed at the flying J.
in 90min I got 90cents, PacMan got $90. I don't know $20s. I got 10 cents and quarters..lol
anyway we paid for gas and went to the bar for a drink or two to chill out.
it was about there I found a dead lizard in the parking lot. a big blue sucker. so I laid it across PacMan's leather jacket that he always kept strapped on his apehangers, just above the headlight.
and there it sat.
1, 2, 3, gas stops.
we stopped for dinner somewhere past the AZ NM border and it finally fell off kinda under his bike.
after a good dinner mom and pop style, we went back out to the bike.
"Hay Pac, don't forgit your lizard!"
"Yea, What about it?" he had ridden all that time never even noticing the big lizard on his handlebars! I couldn't believe it.
oh shoot, I cant leave out one of the best parts...somewhere in AZ, at a random pullout, while changing my plugs yet again, PacMan pulls out a TacoJohns Taco.
"where did you get a taco johns taco PacMan?"
"Casper"
"Brother, you haven't been in Casper Wyoming in a month and a half!'
"Want some?"
"No thank you PacMan!"
the man always had food, and was willing to share. most times you wouldn't want to touch it though!
that evening we pulled into a exit in the middle of the desert. pulled up to a house. and from the back we hear = "That sounds like a Wyoming bike to me!"
Pacs friends hadn't seen him in 4 years, had no clue we were coming and hooked us up with a 2 bedroom trailer. filled the swampcooler, internet was workin and everything.
what cool friends to have.
im a little tired and still have to type the rest of the story.
tomorrow I will tell you how we got bedbugs in Pueblo and Pac almost took home a Navy Gal.
Yep, need to hear more!!! PacMan sounds like a hoot!! 
