OF HARLEY DAVIDSON AND DESERT FLOWERS

by jimhinckleysamerica | Apr 27, 2009 | Uncategorized

In the last post I noted the possibility there would be photos of Harley Davidson motorcycles with the entry for today. As you may have guessed from these photos there was a change in plans.

So, shall we try again next week? As I am covering the Route 66 Fun Run, after a half day at the office and a two hour signing of Route 66 Backroads at the power House Visitor Center, it should be a safe assumption that the compilation of photos chronicling the weekend will contain at least one or two Harley Davidson motorcycles.

In the mean time let me explain today’s photos. Then I would like to share with you a few of the exciting developments here on Route 66.

Okay, the original game plan called for cruising Route 66 Saturday evening in a hunt for vintage motorcycles. This safari was to begin and end at the local Harley Davidson dealer.

Well, the first fly in the ointment came with an endless string of delays at the office resulting in closure more than one hour after the scheduled time. I am quite embarrassed to say the last episode resulted in a fit of carnality and a few poorly chosen words.

In years past I was well known for my tirades and colorful language salted with home spun witticisms. Those days are long past and I now pride myself on patience and carefully selected words.

The fuse was lit Friday evening when a customer insisted on changing his reservation from Monday to Saturday morning. On several occasions he accentuated the fact we were most likely very incompetent but in spite of this shortcoming he would make his plans based on our assurance he could pick the truck up at 8:00 AM sharp. He arrived at ten minutes to noon, closing time.

As he impatiently paced the floor, checked his watch with theatrical flourish, and audibly expressed his discontent with being kept waiting with loudly audible sighs I was working with one customer that had missed the “Truck Drop” sign and gotten stuck between a pole and the rental cars. I had no sooner taken care of Mr. Impatience, who insisted on noting every scratch, reading every word on each form, even those in duplicate, and providing him with the district office number so he could file a formal complaint for being kept waiting, when a salesman from the Chrysler dealership next door called and requested my assistance.

It would seem a customer with a Penske truck had missed our driveway, turned into the Chrysler lot, managed to weave his way through two rows of cars before coming to an exit blocked a customer with a Dodge truck and trailer. It was at this point I slipped a cog and returned to a previous incarnation, one with some very sharp barbs.

As often happens when we give way to such expressions of immature anger and frustration things go from bad to worse. In this instance I had been scheduled to present a signed copy of a book to the tourism director for a charity fund raising event at 12:30. Now, I am an hour late, traffic on Route 66 is an endless stream of motorcycles as well as local and tourist enjoying their trip along the old double six.

I arrived minutes before the drawing but was to late for my presentation or to finalize preparations for the book signing at the Fun Run scheduled for this coming Saturday. The next big frustration came in the form of directions to resolve website issues (http://www.route66infocenter.com/) that demanded immediate attention.

The correct response would have been to suck it up, deal with the problems, and praise God these delays didn’t happen next Saturday. I knew that but still flipped out. I wonder how long I can go before the next regression?

So, now its late Saturday evening. I most likely missed some great opportunities to photograph gleaming chrome under neon on Route 66 but I was whipped and simply called it a day.

Mid morning Sunday my dearest friend noted it was going to be a lovely day tailor made for a desert excursion, especially as the short lived blossoms of cacti and desert flowers were at their peak. She also noted that soon it would be to hot to enjoy our long walks in the desert on a Sunday afternoon.

It wasn’t a hard decision to make. On one hand I could search out motorcycles and the crowds and noise. On the other I could have solitude, meditate on God’s handiwork, reflect on the errors of the previous day, and enjoy the company of my dearest friend. As you can see I chose the later.

Thanks for suffering through my tale of woe. Now, let me share a few of the exciting things that are taking place here in my corner of the world along Route 66.

First, is the Fun Run. On Friday evening, we will kick off with a exhibit of historic photos and the work of three local artists – Wells Musgraves, Jim and Judy Hinckley – at Beale Street Brews & Gallery. This is our first showing for photography but the real excitement is a special piece that will be sold to raise funds for the restoration of a Packard Sales & Service sign that will be the cornerstone for the Route 66 historic sign renovation initiative.

This little item is a custom framed 16×20 inch signed print of the bottom photo on the cover of Route 66 Backroads and an offset promotional post card for that book. Accompanying this will be a signed first edition of the book. For more information or to place a bid contact the president of the Kingman Route 66 Association at 928-377-9684.

This ties into a new endeavor for us, limited edition prints and exhibitions. For more information or to inquire about either drop us a note. With that said you can enlarge any of our photos on this blog with one quick click. Please note, these photos are copyrighted.

The next little bit of excitement is the website – www.route66infocenter.com – now has most of the bugs worked out. This means I can begin building the ultimate one stop travel center for those planning a trip on Route 66 or a number of other historic highways.

As to the blog stay tuned. I will announce the winner of the free books in less than two weeks. On May 10 the plan is to visit Crown King via the incredible Senator Highway and as always I will provide photos and updates as soon as possible.

One last note for today. I know that economically things are looking a little shaky. Still, the best way I know of to beat the stress fueled by uncertainty about the future is a road trip accompanied with long walks. With that said take to Route 66, or the lost highway nearest you, for a day or a week this spring and summer and watch the stress melt away.

SPRING HAS SPRUNG ON ROUTE 66

by jimhinckleysamerica | Apr 24, 2009 | Uncategorized

An observant person can often tell the season by watching the movement of herds or flocks. Here, on Route 66 in western Arizona, the arrival of spring is marked by wildly fluctuating temperatures, desert breezes that blow steady at forty plus miles per hour, open toed shoes for the gals, and the ever increasing rumble of the Harley Davidson.
The folks at the Route 66 Museum in Barstow, California, had a special opening for a contingent of Spaniards on motorcycles. Last week we had a group of Austrians who had rented motorcycles in Chicago stop by.
In mid May I will finally get to meet with Dries Bressel with the Dutch Route 66 Association who will be riding through with some friends en route to California. We have been emailing for some time now and I have supplied news and photos of Route 66 for his website but we have yet to meet face to face over a cup of coffee and talk about this fascination with Route 66 and what I can do to fuel it.
However, the most sure sign that spring has arrived is the Laughlin River Run, a huge gathering of the faithful that come to celebrate the legendary Harley Davidson and the counterculture that has become almost inseparable from the motorcycle. Scattered here and there among the herds will be the independent thinkers, the daring few who will join in festivities with Triumphs and Honda Gold Wings, Indians and BMW’s.
As always I will keep my eyes peeled this weekend for classic examples of vintage motorcycles regardless of brand. Check back on Monday and I will post the results. Moreover, you might want to look at the Memory Lane Garage Page on my website, www.route66infocenter.com on Monday, May 4Th as the manufacturer of the month will be Harey Davidson.
If you are in the Kingman area next week on Friday evening check out the sock hop and Route 66 exhibit at the Beale Street Brews & Gallery on Beale Street. In addition to a sampling of our photography there will be historic Route 66 photos and the work of several other artists, good food, music, and lots of cars and motorcycles. I have a map for your convenience on the website.
On Saturday afternoon I will be signing Route 66 Backroads at the Power House Visitor Center as part of the Fun Run festivities. This fun filled celebration of America’s love affair with Route 66, the automobile, and the road trip is another sign that spring has truly sprung. Details and contact information for the Fun Run are also posted on the website.
However, you choose to celebrate the arrival of spring, by vintage car or motorcycles, drive or ride careful!

BEYOND THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED

by jimhinckleysamerica | Apr 20, 2009 | Uncategorized

Just to the north of Route 66 my dearest friend and I threw caution, and common sense, to the wind, and embarked on a grand adventure of epic proportions. There were eagle, or buzzard, eye views of the ghost town of Chloride and forgotten mines, waterfalls and absolute, divine silence only broken by the wind in the scrub oak and the chirp of rock squirrels.

It started off simple enough. After more than a week of around town test driving and minor repairs such as hoses and shocks we decided a trip to Windy Point in the Cerbat Mountains above the old mining town of Chloride would be an ideal maiden voyage for the Jeep, the replacement for the old Ford wagon.

This would give us about forty miles of highway driving and twenty-five miles of very moderate dirt road travel with a few steep grades. On more than one occasion the trusty old Ford wagon had made this trip so we were not really worried about exceeding the capabilities of the Jeep or our driving skills.

Since my son moved out several months ago trips that were reminiscent of our dating days when about the only thing we could afford was gas for my old truck, a 1946 GMC, and a picnic lunch have been an integral part of our weekends. It is almost as though we are picking up where we left off before assuming the responsibilities of raising a family.
Well, as always the drive was wonderful with vintage country tunes flowing like smooth molasses from the speakers, pine and sage scented breezes teasing the senses, and my dearest friend and I enjoying each others company and hardly saying a word. The temperatures were absolutely perfect for hiking the slopes of Cherum Peak, the simple lunch was delightful, and my wife’s laughter was as the music of song birds on the breezes that swept up the slopes from the desert below.

Now, I really can’t put my finger on when it happened or even how. My wife really enjoys driving the Jeep as it was on an older version she learned to drive and in an even older version her family took outings deep into the Arizona wilderness.

So, when she suggested a turn at the wheel for the return trip I settled in for a rare opportunity to be a spectator and enjoy the wonderful scenery as it flowed past the windows. It was a simple question and an even simpler answer that launched this walk on the wild side.

“Do you want to go back on the same road or should we finish the loop into Chloride?” My response was, “Your the driver. The rest of the loop is pretty steep and rocky, at least it was years ago when I last drove it.”

The first indication we were in deep dog doo was shortly after topping the crest and starting down the other side we noticed there were no vehicle tracks – truck or ATV. The next was the rock squirrels that stood in the middle of the road without fear as though they had never seen a motor vehicle.

Once we cleared the first obstacle, a rock strewn thirty percent down grade curve that required riding high on the slope to avoid a wash out which culminated with a fork in the road and a stunning view we were committed. Going back was no longer an option.

For those who eat, drink, and sleep four wheeling this road is most likely one step above a cake walk. For us it was an exhilarating walk on the wild side.

In some places the road had become so narrow the margin for error was zero and the bottom was far below. In others it was carved from the crumbling slope of a towering mine tailing or little more than a trail lined with all manner and size of rocks. The road had changed drastically since I last drove it some thirty years ago in a battered 1942 Chevy pick up and even imagining it as it was when I last rode down it with a friend in a Bronco ten years ago was difficult.

About half way down the mountain, about four miles, we stopped at a mine to let the brakes cool, stretch our legs, and laugh about our temporary exchange of common sense for near total surrender to undiluted adventure.

I had planned for a picnic and had packed accordingly. We had water, food, and a jack. However, we had no shovel, come along or gear usually tossed on board for a serious trek into the outback. In short we had lost our minds.
The old mine made for a delightful place to stop. Much of the drift had collapsed and the mine was flooded. Water flowed past the old rails and over the edge of the tailings with a musical sound that enhanced the stunning views.

After our brief respite we switched drivers and continued our crazy adventure. Shortly after leaving the mine the road became a relatively smooth track that lulled into us into a false sense that the worst might be behind us.

One slope washed into a series of steep steps required rolling rocks into the path of the wheels to avoid bottoming out or high centering. This gave way to a stretch that required rolling rocks out of the way to provide a corridor wide enough for us to pass between. Then it got really, really ugly.

Incredibly none of it really seemed to phase us as we laughed at each obstacle. We decided this type of adventure required vintage rock as a sound track and when Bon Jovi began singing “Miracle” we really lost it. “Blaze of Glory” coupled with a curve that left us staring into what seemed like a bottom abyss added a new dimension to the joyous abandon.

Then we came around a corner and there was a towering wall of stone with water pouring down its face. At its base there was a beautiful pond and I immediately thought of that mornings prayer, “Lord, please be with us today on our journey. Bless our trip with laughter and awe inspiring examples of your handiwork.”

Just before arriving at the waterfall I had seen the world famous Chloride murals and knew this wild and crazy adventure was about finished. Little did I know there was one more surprise, a long, steep slope where the road, paved with boulders that appeared to be larger than VW “bugs”, was squeezed between a wall of brush and a towering rock wall.

I am not exactly sure how we traversed that sea of boulders with the Jeep unscathed on the sides, bottom or top. I do know that was the first time on this trip I remembered we had a four wheel drive vehicle, our first, and really had to use it!

We rolled into Chloride with a goofy grin on our faces and sides sore from being tossed side to side and laughter, and a Jeep that had been thoroughly test driven. We stopped at the general store for a celebratory cherry Coke and I checked underneath for tell tale signs that something might have been punctured on this adventure.

When the clerk inquired about our trip to Chloride and inquired about my cursory inspection of the Jeep I told him of our loop drive through Windy Point. Laughter was barely suppressed when he gave us an incredulous look and said, “I didn’t know you could get down that road anymore.”

Does life get any better than having the opportunity to share a crazy mid life crisis with your best friend and your wife?

GHOST TOWNS AND RANDOM THOUGHTS ABOUT LIFE IN GENERAL

by jimhinckleysamerica | Apr 17, 2009 | Uncategorized

Ghost towns and Arizona ghost towns in particular have been a source of fascination for almost as long as I can remember. Shortly after moving to the Grand Canyon state in the summer of ’66 places once only read about became a tangible link to the history in my books
It is with clarity that I remember our first visit to Oatman, Arizona. It was a hot summer day but the oppressive heat could not detract from my excitement as we climbed ever higher into the Black Mountains on an alignment of Route 66 bypassed in 1953.
At that point in time this section of Route 66 was merely an old road and the ruins of Goldroad as well as the empty buildings in Oatman were simply there. For a young boy enamored with the tales of Stevens as he trekked through the jungles in search of lost cities or the stories of Carter’s discovery of the boy kings tomb in Egypt these were magical places where the imagination could be given free reign.
In the years that followed I sought these empty places for their solitude, for the love of mystery, and for the sheer adventure of discovering vestiges of a lost civilization. I explored the dusty streets and the empty halls of their hotels with reverence.
Many who sought them out did so in a quest for lost treasure or even as a source for cheap building materials. Others came to preserve what remained with canvas and paints or film and camera.
Time and the harsh desert winds, vandals and souvenir hunters have decimated most of these places that were once so full of hope and promise. Many of these ghost towns are now little more than rubble piles, foundations, and a notation on a map.
I made my first trip to Cerbat, once the county seat for Mohave County, in a battered old 1942 Chevrolet pick up truck that was really little more than a search and rescue vehicle (every time you leave town there is a chance some one will have to search for you and rescue your sorry butt). Vestiges from almost a century of mining were everywhere.
Cabins and buildings built of stone still had roofs, the monuments in the cemetery were easily found, and at many of the mines a great deal of vintage equipment could still be seen. My dearest friend and I paid a visit to Cerbat to take advantage of an unusually warm winters day in January and found only the faintest traces of stone walls to mark the site of this once bustling community that held such promise for immigrants to the Territory of Arizona.
Laws that penalized mining companies for not razing structures has also played a role in the demise of the Arizona ghost town. Ironically the resurgence of mining has also played havoc with many of these historic frontier communities.
For me visiting ghost towns has always had a therapeutic effect. They serve as an important anchor for life and help keep my perspective focused on the priorities rather than those things that seem so full of promise today but are mere ruins tomorrow.
As you may have guessed after almost a half century of exploration I have found numerous lost treasures, at least they were treasures for those who lost them. On one trek into the Cerbat Mountains, I did find a 1921 silver dollar in a rusty can under what had once been a porch where a tired rancher or miner rested and watched the evening shadows creep across the Sacramento Valley far below and as the sun sank behind the Black Mountains on the horizon.
Quite by accident I found a 1936 silver half dollar once. I was sitting on a rock savoring the desert solitude when I noticed the remains of coin purse at my feet. All that remained was a small piece of dried leather, the rusted metal of the frame and this shiny half dollar.
Perhaps the greatest treasure found on these many exploits are the memories. I have been privileged to see some of these towns before they vanished and I have been able to share these special places with my dearest friend.
If you seek the road less traveled and the towns now abandoned at their end, please take nothing but photos and leave nothing but foot prints. Save something for those yet born so they too may have treasures that are the memories of special places.

ANOTHER WEEK, MORE ADVENTURES

by jimhinckleysamerica | Apr 14, 2009 | Uncategorized

As you may have noticed my daily postings ended abruptly after last Wednesday. That should provide some indication of how the past few days have gone in my corner of the world.
As I left off with this saga last Wednesday we will bring you up to speed beginning with Thursday. The day started off on a normal footing – a breakfast of oats, wheat toast, fruit, and strong Irish tea followed with a little Bible reading, Psalm 103, a quick check of the email and news headlines, and a shave and shower.
On most mornings my dearest friend and I often pass like a graveyard and day shift employee. Still, there is always time for a word of encouragement, a prayer, and a hug.
The morning was absolutely gorgeous so I decided it would be a shame not to ride the bicycle. I am limited on the routes available to work but still manage to find a different route for every day of the week.
In spite of this limitation it seems I always find new surprises that enhance the enjoyment of the ride. On this particular morning these took the form of a remarkably original Chevette Scooter, sharing the road with a vintage Whizzer, and riding along Route 66 as a small herd of Harley Davidson motorcycles flying German flags roared past.
My job is never dull but in recent months it has entered the realm of bizarre. As a case in point consider this conversation from Thursday.
The phone rings and I answer, “Penske Truck Leasing, may I help you.” The response, “Yes, is this Uhaul.”
At that juncture there was little doubt it was going to be one of those days. After all, this was five minutes before we opened.
The conversation continued. “I need to know how much it would cost to rent a truck for a move from Fort Mohave to Spokane. Wait. My wife says we are moving to Sparta not Spokane.” I can’t make this stuff up, I am just not that talented.
My question, “Sparta, Tennessee?” receives no answer so I ask again. The response, “Just a minute, she is checking.” Then, “Yeah, but just in case can we get a rate for Spokane as well.”
Next I ask, “When will you need the truck?” The response, “Can we get it in a half hour?”
Then comes the million dollar question, “What size truck will you need?” This was followed by a long pause and then the beginning of a lengthy listing of every item owned from cat carrier to grand pa’s chair.
I politely interrupted and asked, “How many rooms do you have in your house?” This was followed by a listing of each room, including the bathroom and attic, and a question, “Does the garage and shed count as a room?”
Once we had established a truck size we began discussing towing equipment. “Will I be able to tow my pick up behind the trailer?” “How about my travel trailer?” “Are there limitations regarding people riding in the towed vehicle?”
After this strange litany was resolved we came to price negotiation. We had just started discussing this fine point when the customer interrupts and says, “Let me get back with you in an hour. I want to see which will be closer, Spokane or Sparta.”
At noon the customer calls back. “I spoke with a dude this morning about a truck to Sparta but I don’t remember his name.” I reintroduce myself.
Then I get this. “Yea, man, we will just need a small truck as the furniture company just repossessed most of the stuff. So can you get us that 16′ truck one way to Batavia, New York.”
Well, the last time I saw the customer they had their truck, a Rand McNally print out with directions to Batavia, New York, and they were headed west on I40 towards California.
Granted this is an extreme example but increasingly I deal with similar circumstances every week. Well, the rest of Thursday and the week were rather anti climatic at the office as well as on the home front.
Thursday afternoon my wife called to inform me that Alfred, a neighbor with a passion for old Chevies, had stopped by to inquire about the wagon. That evening after I got home we culminated a deal and the Ford wagon found a new home.
We rounded out the night with an Easter week tradition in our home, watching the Passion. This powerful movie never ceases to bring me up short and sharpen my focus on what is truly important in this life.
Saturday was a half day and the plan was to round up a few components to work on the Jeep, our latest acquisition. As it turned out I had to go to Napa as well as Auto Zone to get the parts wanted but was still home in time for lunch with my son, who had stopped by for a visit, and my wife. Ah, the joys of small town life.
Sunday was a day of reflection which included a long walk with my dearest friend high into the Cerbat Mountains. We followed this up with some prayer, phone calls, and that evening I completed the column profiling Charles Nash for Cars & Parts.
Monday I took the Jeep to Steve’s Route 66 Auto Repair for assistance with things not figured out on Saturday. I now feel that with the exception of a couple small issues, such as not being able to open the drivers door from the inside, the Jeep is ready to take us most anywhere we choose to go and back again.
For a maiden shake down voyage the game plan is a trip to Windy Point high in the Cerbat Mountains above the ghost town of Chloride for a picnic lunch with my dearest friend and a little photography. As the trip will be on Sunday, I should have photos to post on Monday.
If all goes as planned then I will set my sites for a mid May, birthday cruise to the old mining town of Crown King nestled among the pines of the Bradshaw Mountains south of Prescott. My dearest friend hasn’t made this trip so I think a cruise along the time capsule that is the Senator Highway is in order.
As I promised to use this long winded post to bring you up to speed word has been received that final edit for Ghost Towns of the Southwest will commence in June. This should put us on track for a first of the year release.
I am still in limbo with Ghost Towns of Route 66. In spite of this minor setback research is progressing and loose plans are being made to cruise Route 66, seeking out the earliest alignments where feasible, from Kingman east to at least Amarillo. The rough time table for this is to take a weeks vacation in late Mayor early June.
One final note from my vantage point on Route 66. Most folks who visit Kingman ask how we can live here without real seasons.
I am always polite when I respond by telling them we have seasons, stick around a week and you will see. Sunday and Monday were picture perfect with slight breezes and temperatures near seventy five degrees. Today the wind is howling at around thirty mile per hour with gusts topping fifty.
Wednesday the high temperature is supposed to be around fifty degree with an overnight low in the high twenties. We are also expecting rain, thunderstorms, and possible snow flurries. By Saturday the projection is for temperatures near eighty degrees. Welcome to Kingman!