As noted in my last blog entry, I managed to earn for myself an unscheduled traumatic vacation from life. Other than going to my orthopaedic appointment with Dr. Torture at his conveniently located Dungeon O’ Pain on Scourge Boulevard and Groan Road just outside of Brooksville on Thursday and then church last night, I haven’t left the house. I spent most of this last week propping my leg up and balancing an ice pack on an ankle masquerading as a basketball.
The official diagnosis at this point is a class 2 sprain. I have two ligaments on the outside of my left ankle that decided they didn’t like their other half and are in mediation to decide if they are splitting up or not. Another ligament on the inside is a strong possibility for marriage counseling as it isn’t getting along with its other half either. I estimate a 99.999999999% chance of ligamental marriage trouble judging by the twanging rubber band feeling down there. One is about to take out a court ordered restraining order on the other. The fibula bone wanted in on the excitement too so it brought a little crack to the party just to stir things up. After the swelling goes down I go back next week for more poking and prodding (yaaay!) to see if I need surgery. I think I am getting bed sores too. (yaaay! Oh wait, I meant oww, that hurts!)
As long as my leg is propped up with ice on it, the pain is minimal. When I get up to move around, as soon as I put my leg down… WOW! It feels like someone is trying to permanently implant a hot cattle brand through my ankle from the opposite side. Pain meds? Yeah, I am apparently one of 0.02% of people (I looked it up) who develop intractable hiccups from the poison Dr. Torture gave me as a cruel joke. Why can’t my luck run those odds for winning the lottery? Instead I won two sleepless nights on that stuff. Every time I would drift off, hiccup, I would wake myself up, hic, again with more hiccups. It became painful after a while. The hiccups apparently got jealous of the caring affection I was giving my leg so they jammed a few needles in my diaphragm and lungs to redirect my attention. I think I am going to create an annual holiday to celebrate the moment they left.
My other motivations, besides the pain, to stay in my recliner are the furry critters inhabiting our domicile with us. Every time I get up these loving dogs pretending to be my best friends interpret my getting up to pee or get something to eat as a signal to start a game called “Trip the Crip”. Apparently the object of this fun game is to see how fast they can knock me, “The Crip”, off my crutches. Dear old Shadow will lay down in front of me blocking my route while my little chihuahua, Rastas, scurries around trying to take my attention off what every one else is doing. What everyone else (read that as Enli and Dingo) happen to be doing is trying to knock my crutches out from under me thereby scoring points. I don’t like this game.
I spent this week doing a lot of reading, playing on the interwebs, and being grumpy. Speaking of which, DirtNurse seems to be working longer hours, but I am sure that has nothing to do with me expressing my heartfelt displeasure of the situation.
My current view of life consists of staring at my toes. So because I am sick of that and there are only so many motorcycle websites one can read over and over again I am going to bless you with my writing about a dual sport ride I should have written up a few weeks back, but never got around to. The following story is for all of my readers as told through the ramblings of a grumpy, sleep deprived, sore from hiccups, cripple with cabin fever. Aren’t both of you readers so lucky?
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away… no, wait that isn’t right. Once upon a time… nope. It was a dark and stormy night… Is Snoopy writing this? Ok, one more time… Our hero, DirtMedic, suddenly finds himself with no honey-do lists and no immediate domestic responsibilities holding him back from glory. Today would be his day to bravely explore harsh exotic swamp lands, battling the labyrinth of sub-tropical jungle trails and the mysterious grey glue that sucks in heroes, to find the lost monolith of THE CHIMNEY, while riding his trusty grey steed, DR650. There that’s the ticket. Does that have your attention? Pretty good build up, huh? It’s a shame I’ve got nothing to follow that up with. Truth is I got off work wanting to go find an old brick chimney I had seen a picture of on a motorcycle forum. It looked old and of course there wasn’t much information to go on to find it or so I thought.
Undaunted, our curious hero had scoured the oracles of the interwebs for clues. It was old. That was a clue. It was made of bricks. Another clue! How many old brick chimney’s could there be? All of the old ones are made of brick? Oh, crud, that doesn’t help. Wait, what is this? A depository of information for treasure hunters that says it was a homestead built in the 1830’s. AHA!! A clue!! The mystical codex revealed the location to be 200 paces due north of the dead end trail leading to the dark river. That is something our trusting hero could work with. With freshly gleaned knowledge he went galloping away at sunset, er, riding away from the fire station at about 9 a.m. in the morning. Our fearless hero entered the dark, foggy, foreboding woods ready to do battle. In other words, he brought Gatorade and some pizza flavored Combo snacks. Immediately upon entering, the trail split. Which way should he go? Sage Wisdom says when in doubt go right. Naturally, our hero went left, but mostly because the GPS showed the river there. Arriving at the end of The Dead End Trail which the mystical treasure hunting codex spoke of, he found an ancient boat ramp to the Withlacoochee River. “Withlacoochee” means in the old tongue, “don’t build here you idiot, this river floods when it rains and if you do in fact build here then you need to act surprised to learn that this river has flooded since time immemorial for the newspaper and the evening TV news”, or something like that.
Surveying his options he looked high and low for the hidden path leading to his quarry. There it was, a muddy path following the bank of the river, not used in eons. Following it, he urged his steed on. Suzuki DR650 stumbled trying to find her footing on the slick surface. She was not
wanting to enter further. The grey glue was frightening to the poor steed. Our foolish hero coaxed her to overcome her fear and keep going. In spite of his own trepidation both our ignorant hero and his nervous steed ventured further into the swampy trail with grey glue on either side.
Eventually the trail submerged beneath dark waters. The trail had become too narrow to turn around. Dangerous, pointy cypress tree knees were surrounding them. Too late our hapless hero realized it was a trap. Many a courageous explorer has fallen to this deadly scenario. Knowing there was only one way to get out he unleashed the mighty fury of DR650. With all 37 base horsepower with a 14 tooth front sprocket and 42 tooth rear sprocket, in first gear she chugged her way through the grey glue trap. With a DOT legal muffler and a soft roar they emerged unscathed on the other side. Except for the muddy water sloshing around in his boots that is. As a word of advice to other intrepid explorers, should one find themselves trapped by a watery grey glue ambush, drying out the air box and changing the oil when you get home usually fixes everything.
Finding himself deeper than the 200 paces the evil codex had evilly promised, our muddy hero realized that he was in a pickle. He had entered too far to turn around, but he could also see further ahead the trail would continue to disappear under that black water. The lure of finding THE CHIMNEY made the decision for him. DR650 grunted and swam through the remaining traps showing her worth.
On the other side was a gentlemanly redneck whose coach was a faded green 1974 Jeep CJ 4×4 with a recently rebuilt motor. He was conducting himself in the activity of fishing with his teenaged female progeny. Not that he was using her for bait, but rather she was beside him sharing the activity, lest you should think that our swift hero misjudged him with the description of gentleman. Although, our hero can certainly think of some children who should probably be used for bait. Gentlemanly Redneck appeared surprised to see that anyone could have come through the enchanted forest unscathed. Little did he know how capable our most capable hero and his steed truly are. Upon questioning this good man about the location of THE CHIMNEY, Gentlemanly Redneck replied, “it round heah sum wheres. I seeeen it ahh few timez. Go back up down that there road and it’ll be on yer left or coulda be yer right. Dern! I dun fergot.”
With accurate information that he was close by, our directionally challenged hero charged up down that there road. Excitement coursed through his blood, it was going to be close by on his right or his left. Then he came to a cross road of paths. Uh oh. Harking back to his earlier decision to follow sage advice to always go right our hero went left. The path opened to reveal this:
Now totally lost our dizzy hero pressed on. Was it mentioned Don Quixote is our naive hero’s hero? The trail narrowed down, a log was blocking the path, but DR650 reared up and leapt over the obstacle with ease. Turning the corner revealing another open place where… there it was. Angels sang and the clouds parted revealing rays of sunshine. Swarms of mosquitoes danced their way under his helmet and coat of armor to celebrate with him. They called their friends to come celebrate. Those friends called their friends and pretty soon it was a big mosquito flash mob party celebrating with our now anemic hero his glorious find of THE CHIMNEY.
Since our excited hero doesn’t require the praises of little blood sucking insects he asked them politely to carry the party somewhere else with the mild persuasion of a few gallons of a potion known as Deep Woods Off.
What was the purpose of THE CHIMNEY? Who built it? When did they build it? When was it abandoned? Why was it abandoned? The evil codex lied about where it was. Our misinformed hero would also find out later that the treasure hunting codex lied about what it was. The previous hero to find it and tempt DirtMedic with finding it, kept its location secret. Was that to protect him from something? Most likely.
Having taken his helmet and jacket off our intrepid hero now felt emboldened to explore with a heavy layer of Deep Woods Off potion. Leaving DR650 stupidly with the keys in it to rest by THE CHIMNEY, our blundering hero headed into the darkness of the thick jungle. Finding only sour orange trees and grossly deformed Oak Trees behind the ancient monument, he explored the other side of the road in front of the archaic monolith.
There is a story of young adventurers who entered a forest to find themselves under the enchantment of a witch. They found a ruin of a home that had no purpose being that deep in the woods. Their story is known as “The Blair Witch Project”. Similarly, our enchanted hero initially went in circles, ran into a man who spoke a strange language and gave cryptic directions, and then our bewildered hero found a building deep under the dark canopy of ancient oaks. Its very presence surprised him. As he entered, he said aloud to no one in particular, “what a crappy thing to find”.
“Why would there be a wooden outhouse near THE CHIMNEY?” Wait! It was a two seater even! What a rare find! The privy holes were diamond shaped! Someone put great effort into these once majestic lost thrones.
Having satisfied his curiosity of THE CHIMNEY and having discovered THE LOST THRONES (and also because his camera battery died) our, bathroom in the woods finding, hero mounted back up on his steed, DR650, and rode further up down that there road.
Please note that all photos from here to the end of the chapter are taken with a crappy cell phone.
END OF THE CHAPTER?!?!?
Yes, the end of the chapter.
THAT MEANS THERE ARE MORE CHAPTERS!!!!
Yes, that means there are more chapters. This drivel goes on for quite some time you know. I am home with a bum leg and nothing else to do, remember?
BUT I HAVE BETTER THINGS TO DO WITH MY LIFE!!
I really feel sorry for you if you have followed along this far. I know you have better things to do. I am sure I have lost at least one of my readers by now leaving the other one to suffer through to the end by themselves. On the bright side, the next chapter means I have a fresh battery for my camera and better pictures, even a couple of videos! Whichever one of you actually reads this to the end, I am sure there is a prize of some kind for you. Then again, maybe not, I am a broke government employee with a bum leg after all.
So, do I at least have one of you still with me? Good. Let us continue on.
As it turned out, that there road intersected with The Dead End Trail. Not wanting to stress DR650 any further by turning left towards the black watery grey glue traps, our confused hero turned right then left at the first split in the trail where Sage Wisdom says he should have turned right when he first left the main road. Got that? Right.
Taking his first left which was the right way to go to get to The Bluffs our hero found that he had been right here before. He wanted to see something new. So when the road to The Bluffs continued straight, he turned left. Did he make the right decision when he left the road to The Bluffs? Probably not as we shall soon see.
There were no grey glue traps here so DR650 let out her stride to go faster and faster turning left, turning right following the trail until the trail dead ended at the most horrid of omens. A “Road Closed, Southwest Florida Water Management Property” sign. Not wanting to summon the evil taker awayer of steeds, the FWC officer. He turned DR650 around. On the way back out there was a frightening creature. A water moccasin. It must have been there the whole time when our sightseeing hero first passed through. This sucker was a very healthy five feet long and not backing down.
Not much causes our hero to wilt from danger, but a water moccasin will. Giving this evil spawn of satan a wide birth, DR650 responded with a wheel spinning frenzy to exit stage left… or right… or any way that will get both of them out of there as fast as possible!
Once back on the road that leads to The Bluffs our hero was more at ease. He was away from any grey glue, he was away from the slithering spawn of satan. He only had to contend with sugar sand. That hasn’t caused DR650 to throw him off since at least his last ride. Passing The Bluffs he continued on to the end of the road at the river.
See? You were told this was like “The Blair Witch Project”. He keeps ending up at the river no matter which way he goes.
It was here that our hero, DirtMedic, got a phone call from DirtNurse, reminding him he did in fact have domestic responsibilities and would he please get himself out of the woods since he had found what he was looking for. “Sure, no problem”, he bluffed. It was named The Bluffs Road for a reason, right? Surely it had nothing to do with the high cliff like bluffs that overlook the Withlacoochee River.
Having found the end he turned around. Coming back up on The Bluffs of the Withlacoochee River who should he see? Gentlemanly Redneck. This time though, he was with Mrs. Redneck and Baby Redneck. Teenage Daughter Redneck was nowhere to be found. Maybe she got used as bait after all.
Our proud hero paused in his journey to regale them with his tale of conquest. Having found not only THE CHIMNEY, but also having discovered THE LOST THRONES. Mrs. Redneck must have noticed that Don Quixote has influenced our impressionable hero as she tells him of a LOST INDIAN CEMETERY he must go on a quest to find.
Gentleman Redneck must have found his match, because she gave directions just like he did. That doesn’t matter to our gullible hero though. He will chase any fool’s errand if there is promise of glory on the other side. Since she gave such good directions he rode out of there at full speed fully confident he would find the LOST INDIAN CEMETERY. Back out left where he should have gone right, right where the paved road left off and out to the main road where he goes over the bridge and through the woods to grandmother’s house…
Oops, got carried away. Totally forgetting his promise to DirtNurse, he heads over the bridge through the woods to look for a road that sounded like Mrs. Redneck had said was “Knot Two P Road”. Then again maybe she said not to pee on the road. Language barriers can be a difficult thing you know. A few miles into the Richloam Forest and it was obvious the directions were not matching the roads our confused hero was finding. Back out to the paved road to start over. Maybe it was this first road to the left. No, maybe it was the second road to the left. No? Ok, maybe it was the first road to the left then the second right, then the… uh, oh, the I’m lost again feeling came over our directionally challenged hero. Unfortunately, he had not been paying attention to his GPS which had wiggled its connection loose and had not tracked his progress. After circling around and around and around and around he eventually made his way out. That is called area familiarization. He does that on purpose. A lot. Speaking of a lot, I have an ocean front lot to sell in Arizona if any one is interested?
THE LOST INDIAN CEMETERY
Still here? Not tired of this drivel yet? Well it is 3:00 in the morning and I am getting tired. We will work on chapter two later. Maybe this will be easier to take in installments.