I held up the camera.
She stared at me, incredulous, her mouth open, then her lips tightened into a straight line. “You’ve got to be kidding. Why didn’t you tell me? Or for that matter, why did you go at all? You could have died out there. I was ready to call Search and Rescue. Have you lost your mind?” She wiped the moisture off her hands. “Look at you. You’re soaked and frozen. We’re in the middle of a storm. We missed the train down, too. What were you thinking?”
I was thinking of getting the camera for her.
And I thought she’d be happy to see me. And her camera. Her hero.
Women. No figuring them out.
Vermont
We walked the path that followed Quechee Gorge along the river, the erosion and tree damage evidence the river could be a mighty force. A local told us once a year, in spring, they open the gates to run off excess water. That could be interesting.
FIRST DATE
Strolling along the path holding Alyssa Starks’ hand, Cody Barnes couldn’t believe his fortune. He had screwed up his courage and asked her out, the cutest girl in Penn Foster High School. She led the cheerleaders, her blond hair bouncing as she jumped and yelled. He knew he had no chance of winning her attentions, since she ran with the beautiful crowd. But in the spirit of his basketball coach’s philosophy that every shot not taken is a shot missed, Cody decided to risk it all and ask her out. And shocker, she said yes.
They walked the path in silence. What do I say? He racked his brain, then inspiration. “So you just moved here. Where from?”
“We moved here from Montpelier. My mom got a job working for the state parks here as a ranger. And I thought Montpelier was a small town.”
“Quechee is pretty small. But you’ll like it here. Lots of natural beauty.”
Not to mention her beauty. She walked with any easy, athletic gait, and her tight shirt and short pants accentuated her attributes in an admirable fashion. Bringing her to the Quechee Gorge was nothing short of brilliant. A nice waterfall, beautiful woods, and he knew a place off the beaten track where if things went as he hoped, they could spend some time making out.
“It sure is pretty. Wow, that water is amazing.”
“They’re opening the dam for the spring runoff, so the thing is really going. Most of the year it’s pretty small.” Her hand felt light and cool in his.
They wandered a half mile down the path to the water’s edge.
“Look,” he pointed, “You can see the bridge we drove over.” The old bridge, with its green steel girders stood in silhouette against the blue sky. An occasional car cruised past.
Cody pulled out his camera. “Stand in front of the waterfall and I’ll get your picture.” She complied and they looked at the results.
“Ugh. I look terrible.”
“No way. You look great. Now let’s do a selfie.” He put his arm around her waist and held the camera away and pointed it. “Smile.” They checked the photo, Alyssa once again unhappy with the results.
“You are beautiful,” he said, as he looked into her blue eyes. “Really.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“Stop it. You are. Besides, it’s what’s inside that counts, right?”
“So I’m not beautiful, but I am inside?”
“No, you’re messing with me.” He looked around at the crashing waters and pointed. “Looks like we could jump onto that rock and we’d be right between the waterfalls. Wouldn’t that be cool?”
“I don’t know…”
The water thundered down and split on a long cigar-shaped rock, turning into white caldrons on either side.
“Here. Let me.” He handed her the camera and backed up. Taking big strides, he ran toward the water. As he planted his foot to launch, it slipped on the wet surface and slid out. Cody landed short of the rock, crashed into the water, then bounced onto the rock and over the other side. The water shot him downstream for only a second before his right foot caught fast between two rocks, facing downstream. The water sent needles of cold pain throughout his body and he gasped, sputtering water.
Alyssa watched with horror, yelling his name, but the sound of the water drowned her cries. Cody struggled to get his head out of the water. He reared back and took a deep breath. Pain shot up from his foot as he struggled to free it, but it stubbornly remained fixed.
She picked her way among the rocks to get even with Cody. A water slide separated them.
“Are you okay?”
He turned his head. “Yes. No. I’m stuck.”
“Can I help you?”
“Better go get help. Hurry. The water is supposed to rise all day.”
“I can’t leave you.”
“Call 911.”
“My phone’s in the car.”
“Find someone. Or get it from the car.”
“Is it locked?” she hollered over the cascading water.
Cody wiggled his hand into his pocket for the keys. Don’t drop them. He tossed them over his head and they bounced off a rock and ricocheted into the creek. She knelt at the edge and searched. Nothing.
“I can’t find them.”
“Break the window.”
“What window?”
“In the car.”
Of course. She made her way across the rocks and once on solid ground, took off running.
~
Cody took stock. He found a rock to his right that he could push off and keep his head above water, but the surging wall at his back exhausted him. Feeling to his left he found another, although not as good. The water held him in a grip of ice and he shivered.
What if he held his breath, squatted down, and jerked his foot back? He tried it and the water surged over his back. Shards of pain shot up his leg as he struggled with his foot. No good. Attempting to rise, the water held him down. Using each rock for purchase, he walked himself to an upright position and gasped for breath. “That didn’t work.”
Come on, Alyssa. Someone would be walking down the path. She could tell them, the man would come, maybe two men and they could hold each other and pull him out…
~
Alyssa got halfway up the hill and stopped, gasping for breath, stitches in both her sides. She spotted an older couple walking toward her. “Help!”
The couple picked up the pace and she ran to them. “My boyfriend,” she pointed, “he’s stuck in the river. Can you call 911 for help? Please hurry.”
The man flipped his phone open. “No signal.”
“You had one at the top, dear.”
She turned them and pushed. “Go ’til you get a signal. Get help.” Without waiting for a reply, she ran down the path. At the edge of the river she spotted a thin pine pole and got an idea. Picking it up, she trotted as best as she could over the rocks to Cody. The water flowed over his shoulders, deeper than before.
“Cody,” she yelled. “I’ve got a lever.”
“What?”
“Never mind.” She surveyed the thundering water in front of her. No way could she jump to the center rock. She found a crack in the far rock and lowered the fat end of the pole into it. Setting the other end down, she tried a tightrope walk. It broke and she fell with a gasp as her legs disappeared into the chilly water. Alyssa lay against the rock and dragged herself out of the water, then grabbed her lever. Looking back to shore she spied a larger log. Dropping the stick, she made her way over and retrieved the log, placing it like a bridge to the cigar rock. Picking up the stick, she used it for balance and walked to the little island.
“Are you all right?” She knelt by his face. But she could tell he wasn’t. His lips looked blue and his eyes lacked life. “Look at me. Listen.” He looked. “I’m going to lever your foot out with this.”
“Okay.” He nodded.
She knelt and probed with the stick. Got it positioned. Levered. It broke.
“Try it again.”
“Right.”
The second attempt proved to be no more fruitful than the first,
the stick too thin.
“What about the other end?” Cody asked.
She switched ends, but the other end proved to be too thick. Tried the thin one again, and it started to move his foot. She could tell because he screamed. But it broke once again. Frustrated, she stood and smashed the stick to the ground and broke off a big piece.
“This will work.”
Cody didn’t hear because his head bobbed underwater. She lifted his chin and he sucked in a great gulp of air. “Thanks. We need to hurry. Listen. Hold my head up. Then let go, do the stick thing and get me loose. It’ll work.”
She nodded and set to work, but too many breaks made the stick too short. She cried in frustration before remembering to grab his head again. Cody gasped.
“Sorry,” she said, “it’s too short now.”
“Okay. What about this. Give me the stick. I’ll hold it until you’re in position. Jump in, I’ll hold you. You jam the stick and lever out my foot.”
“Are you crazy? We’ll both be killed.”
He shook his head. “No. Worst case, you can’t do it, you float downstream to the eddy and get out.”
“What about you?”
“Well… hopefully someone can get here… ”
This is madness. Oops. She held his head up. He drew in a deep lungful of air. “We can’t screw around. Do it. Alyssa,” he looked in her eyes, “you can do it.”
“I can do it. I can do it.” The memory of the children’s book, The Little Engine That Could ran through her mind. I think I can, I think I can.
Time to stop dithering. She slid in, downstream of Cody. The water shocked her, so cold. Cody held her by her shirt. “Turn around.” She wiggled around and he held her by the shoulders. “Here.” He gave her the stick. She worked the stick down as far as she could.
“It’s still too short.”
“Okay. Here’s what we do.” The water thundered over his head. He craned it out of the spray. “I’ll hold your shoulders and push you underwater. You lever my foot and it’ll get free.”
Oh why not, we’re screwed now anyway. She nodded.
“Okay. On three. One. Two. Three.” Cody pushed her down and she struggled against the turbulence. Stuck the stick in. Shoved it upstream. Heard the scream above the water. Grabbed his shoulder with one arm and rose to the surface. They both took deep breaths.
“It didn’t work,” she cried.
“It almost did. I felt my foot move.”
“Okay,” she nodded, “we’ll try it again.”
They counted together and she submerged again, jamming the stick and levering it upstream. Felt Cody’s hands slip and started to slip downstream. Grabbed his shirt and crawled to the surface. They hugged one another.
“This is madness. It’s not going to work.”
He shook his head. “I tell you, it almost worked. Once more.” They counted. She dove. Levered. Once, twice, three times. As her lungs screamed for air, she gave a surge, felt the stick go slack, and they tumbled down the waterfall, legs and arms and bodies smashing into one another. She swam up for air and took a mouthful before the water pushed her down again. She arched up for air, bounced off a rock, and pain shot up her arm. The water spun her like a washing machine and once she spotted Cody’s shirt downstream. A water slide shot her between two rocks and into a pond area, where the white water subsided. Using what little strength she could muster, she paddled toward shore and Cody. He crawled onto the shore, dragging his foot. Alyssa dragged herself onto the rock, favoring her hand. “I think I broke my wrist.”
Cody lay on his back and coughed. “I think I broke my ankle. And I think you saved my life.”
“Are your hikes always this exciting?”
“No.” He turned his head and looked at her, with torn shirt, her hair plastered against her face. Cuts on her hands and cheek. Her clothes soaked and stuck to her, with sand all down her front. “And you are really beautiful.”
~
Cody held up his champagne. “A wedding toast. To the most beautiful girl ever!”
Cody and Alyssa raised their glasses, along with friends and family. She said, “Yeah, well what counts is the beauty on the inside.”
“Absolutely. But you won me over by saving my life. That was quite beautiful.”
Ohio
We stopped and toured the AMA Museum in Pickerington, which I first joined in 1966. So many memories. A special event for me—my wife put on her game face. I wondered, wouldn’t it be great to spend a lot of time in the museum… like all night? Once again, woven throughout the tale are some personal experiences from my decades of riding and racing motorcycles.
MOTORCYCLE DREAMS
Tyler and Dylan peered at the crude map. “I was only there once,” Tyler said, “but I’m pretty sure this is where the Hondas were, my favorite bikes. We can camp right there next to them.”
Dylan crossed his feet off the side of Tyler’s bed. “You really think we can do it?”
“Sure. We got the sleeping bags in there, past that old man. He’s so old, I bet we could walk in right past him. All we need to do is bring a lunch.”
“Right. I’ll get some stuff from my house when Mom’s at the store.”
Tyler nodded. “Okay. We do it tonight.”
“For sure?”
“For sure.” They shook on it. “You tell your folks you’re staying at my house and I’ll tell mine I’ll be at yours. They never check.”
“Okay,” Dylan nodded.
~
As planned, they got inside the AMA Hall of Fame through the service entrance. They watched the old man walk out, probably to get his dinner, and crept in, Tyler first. He waved Dylan over. “Let’s see what’s in here.” The sign read, ‘Staff Only.’
They eased open the door and slipped into the room. Dylan looked around at the tools and cleaning supplies, stacked in racks to the ceiling. “I’m kinda scared. Maybe we should go home,” he whispered.
“Are you crazy? We got our parents thinking we’re spending the night at each other’s house and we’re set. Trust me, I’m twelve. This is going to be great.”
“I don’t know.”
They found a closet of mops and brooms and hid inside it.
“Don’t shut the door all the way,” Dylan said.
“Chicken.” He pulled the door, leaving it open a crack.
What seemed like hours, but after just a few minutes the old man walked into the room and dropped off some tools and picked up his lunch pail. He shut off the lights and closed the door. Dylan whimpered and Tyler put his hand over his mouth.
“Shh. We’ll be okay. A few minutes and I’ll turn it back on.”
Dylan continued groaning and Tyler kept his mouth covered. His hand felt wet—Dylan was crying.
“Hey, buddy, it’s okay. I’ll get the lights.” Tyler removed his hand and Dylan wailed. He grabbed his face again. “Dude, you got to take it easy; we’re going to be okay.” He opened the closet door, crossed the room, and turned on the light. Dylan continued his weeping. Five minutes of talk and holding his face and Tyler got him calmed down. He released his hand. Dylan breathed heavily. “Okay, I’ll go turn on the lights in the museum.”
“Don’t leave me here.”
Okay.” Tyler started across the room and Dylan grabbed his shirt from behind, bunching it in his fist. Tyler reached for the door and Dylan whimpered.
“Hey, buddy, it’s okay. We got this.”
Dylan nodded, his eyes like marbles.
“Let’s check this out.” Tyler eased open the door to the museum, only a slit. Safety lights provided marginal lighting, but the chrome from the bikes gleamed anyway. They tiptoed out and shut the door.
“Will you hold my hand?”
Tyler turned to face him. “Dude, you’re okay. We got in, just like we planned. It’s closed. We got the run of the place. The museum is ours.” He held his hands wide, like he owned the place.
“Okay.”
“Look at this stuff.�
�� Tyler walked over to a bike and peered at it. “A Honda CBX.”
The bike shone under the security lights. Six chrome exhaust pipes extended from the cylinders and curved down the frame, then split, three to each side and into megaphone-like mufflers. The black paint made it look mean. Tyler read the plaque.
“Wow, they made these here, in Ohio.”
“I saw something move.” Dylan stood, his head turned toward the window. “Somebody’s out there.”
“Don’t be silly. The place is closed. Jeez, Dylan, you just turned eleven. Act your age.”
“You’re right.” He moved closer to Tyler.
“Look.” Tyler pointed to the sign. “It could go a quarter mile in twelve seconds. That’s fast.” He glanced around the room. “Dylan. Check this out. A 1980 Honda CR 250.”
“I heard something. I think somebody’s in here,” Dylan grabbed Tyler’s arm. “Listen.”
“Don’t be stupid. Look at this. They made these in Ohio, too. Check out the serial number, 00001. The first one. Wouldn’t it be cool to ride one of those on a motocross track?”
“Look!” Dylan pointed. “A light. Outside.” He hid behind Tyler.
“I don’t see it. Wait a minute. Quick, hide behind the bike.”
They wiggled behind the CR and peered through the spokes. Sure enough, a light shone on the grass outside. It got bigger. Then a man appeared holding a flashlight. He shined the light through the window. Both kids ducked behind the stand holding up the bike. Dylan cried out and Tyler slapped his hand over his mouth. He got his mouth close to his ear. “It’s the old man. He’s just checking the building. He’ll go back to his post and sleep or something, I bet.” The light played around the room and Dylan groaned. Tyler continued the soothing talk for some time after the man left. He eased his hand off his mouth.
“I wanna go home I wanna go home I wanna—”
“Dude, relax. We got this. He didn’t see us. If he did, he’d take us home and we’d get in trouble. He’s not going to shoot us or something—”
“Shoot us?” Dylan cried, “Could he shoot us?”
“Dude, I just said he wouldn’t. Calm down. We got this. Trust me.”
Dylan nodded, but stayed crouched. “Okay.” Tyler got out from behind the bike. Dylan didn’t move. “Maybe we should turn the lights on.”
“Dude, the old man would know we’re here. There’s enough light. We’re going to tour this place, eat dinner, then roll out our sleeping bags under a bike display, sleep like babies, then get up and go to our houses after having ‘spent the night at each other’s house.’ Just like we planned. We can do this. It’s going just like we planned.”
50 Stories in 50 States: Tales Inspired by a Motorcycle Journey Across the USA Vol 1, Great Lakes & N.E. Page 4