HELPING POPPA

My dad did all his mechanic work on his car and a lot of the cars in the neighborhood. After the war he owned a 37 Chevy. It was a ''basic car'' with no frills like no radio, no heater, no clock, just a basic car. It had a 6 cylinder engine and a 3 speed manual shift transmission.


One day he was going to remove the transmission and replace the clutch, pressure plate and the throw out bearing and it was a big job and he asked me to help. I was thrilled beyond belief because it would give me a chance to work with poppa and get dirty...


He pulled the car into the driveway and up onto some cement blocks using boards as ramps. He got out the greasy, dirty, piece of cardboard from the wood shed and slid it under the car. He got out his big box of tools and sat them on the ground along with another piece of cardboard. He removed a lot of the tools from the tool box and placed them in ''order of size'' on the cardboard explaining as he went as to what tools they were, what size they were and their usage. He laid out screw drivers and different pliers and a few punches and a couple ball peen hammers. He sat and explained that he would be under the car and I would place the proper tool that he asked for in his hand. When he would hand them back out to me I was to put them back in the proper place for the next using. He slid under the car and I sat down beside the tools. From there on for a while his hand would appear with a request for a specific tool and I would place that tool in his hand. This went on for a long time and I got really good at handing tools and putting them back in order when he handed them out to me. After a ''time'' he said ''Kid, I need a good man to come under here and help me with some hard to reach bolts. Would you like to help?''.......... I jumped at the chance and scooted under the car with Poppa. Poppa explained that there was some bolts on top of the of the transmission that he could not reach because his ''hands'' were too large. He asked did I think I could reach up there and get those bolts lose for him.


In retrospect I know Poppa could reach the bolts but he wanted to make me feel important and to feel that he really needed me to do this job and he would have real difficulty if I was not there to help him. I scooted under the transmission and reached up with a wrench and started taking the bolts lose. Poppa watched and told me the ''rightie tightie, leftie lousie'' rule concerning bolts. He pretended to be my helper by handing wrenches as I worked. Words can not express how good this made me feel. I was actually ''helping Poppa'' and he needed me and this made me very proud.


I got all the top bolts out and Poppa said that I should help him pull the transmission away from the engine plate. We got two big screwdrivers and with me on one side and Poppa on the other we jacked the transmission away from the engine plate and Poppa said for me to hold the ''tail stock'' on the transmission and he would heft the front. We laid the transmission on the cardboard between us. When you are a skinny boy of about seven years and you get to help your Poppa remove a transmission it is one of the highlights of your life. We slid it out and Poppa carried it into the workshop. He said he believed it had a bad bearing somewhere inside and he would check that while we had it our. Sure enough, there was a cracked bearing on one of the shafts and we replaced that also. I would hold the work light and hand the tools and Poppa did the work explaining as he went. We got Mr Armentrout our neighbor to go up to Napa and bring the needed parts while Poppa and I cleaned out the inside of the transmission and got ready to put it back in. Mr. Armentrout came back with the bearing and the clutch, pressure plate and the new throwout bearing and me and Poppa put the transmission back in the car and hooked up the drive shaft and the clutch lever. Poppa rechecked everything and I got up the tools and the cardboard and put everything back in the wood shed. It was about then that mom called us to supper and we went to the back porch to wash up. There was a shelf on the back porch with a very large pan of hot water and a large can of Borax hand cleaning powder and a old towel waiting for us. We both were pretty dirty and I wore mine with such pride that I did not want to wash it off. Poppa said that if I didn't wash, I got no supper at moms table. I remember to this day that we washed with the hot water and the Borax and scrubbed and scrubbed to get the grease and dirt off our hands and arms. Poppa would take my little hands in his hands and scrub off the dirt and the grease. To most that simple ''touch'' would mean nothing but I remember it like a ''touch from heaven''. We got finished and dried off and went to supper. Poppa picked me up on his arm and carried me into the kitchen and told mom what a great mechanic I was going to make someday. Mom, Poppa, Grannie Cecil and me sat at the supper table and held hands while Poppa thanked the Lord for our blessings. He also thanked the Lord for having me there to help him with the car. I remember it to this day and I think about it often.


Poppa thought me to ''fix things'' ….. To work on cars and to use my mind to see how things worked and how to fix them when they went wrong. He taught me how to ''think'' and to ''reason'' and these gifts he gave me have helped carry me thru life. They helped make me a successful business man. I give Poppa credit for my success in life because of his teachings when I was a small boy. To me, that is a large part of whats wrong with our country today. Not enough ''fathers'' are teaching their children the basics of life. Not enough ''fathers'' are taking an interest in their children and taking the time to even teach their children right from wrong. I think if everyone had a Poppa like mine, the world would be a much better place....... This is just my opinion of course and I am probably wrong.


After supper we all go in the car for a test ride and it was decided that we had done everything right and we deserved some ice cream so we drove to Lindale Dairy and we all feasted on ten cent cones of Black Walnut Ice Cream. Me and Poppa ate two, each.......


So it was in the life of a skinny kid back in 47, workin on an old Chevy and learnin' about life..............


God bless our troops and keep them safe …..

DUMPED BY IRV2 FOLKS

Strange as it may seem I feel sorry for you as a representative of IRV2. you continued to badger me over nothing ....... I have been a faithful supporter of Irv2 at the rally and on this network for over a year and probably 1200 posts that are loved by many and I am one of the best ''read'' posters on your forums. I believe you wanted an excuse to drop me and you used my questions concerning my post as that excuse. YOU NEVER RESPONDED TO MY QUESTIONS CONCERNING SAME. It was like I was talking to a wall ......
It must be a terriable important job to have such authority over little to nothing with little conciquence ......
answer this if you have the courage
Seajay the sailor man .......

THIS WAS MY LAST MSG TO THE POWERS TO BE ON IRV FOLKS ...
KEEP THIS IN YOUR FAVORITES AND I WILL POST TO IT JUST LIKE i POSTED TO THE IRV FOURMS .....cj

DONT INSULT MY COLORS .....

As promised I went up to exit 125 on I-40 here in Hiclory to honor our dead that died on 9/11/01. I took my folding chair, my big flag, my PVC pipe, my rope and a sack of water bottles and a hand towell. I walked out on the overpass, sat up the chair, carefully leaned Old Glory against the bridge railing, sat my sack of water bottles in the chair, broke out my rope and using genuine Navy type Sailor knots (that will not slip but are easy to untie) I tied my PVC pipe to the guard rail on the bridge. I do this so I can set my flag in the PVC pipe when my arms get tired from holding and waving the flag. Mind you this is a BIG FLAG. This flag draped my dads casket and I am proud to fly it on special occasions like this. My Flag is furled on a extendable pole off of a tree branch trimmer and it works like a charm. I got all my ''stuff'' together and unfirled My Colors and started waving it for the traffic to see. Folks down on I-40 reacted immediately and the traffic on the bridge were happy to toot and recognize the Colors also. I got there something before noon and the day was nice but it was kinda hot so I would have to stop and drink some water occasionally. To do this I would slide the flag staff down in the PVC pipe and hold the ''tag line'' tied to the center of the flag pole to keep in check the flag for those sudden gusts of wind that happen by. I would wave the flag and then sit and rest my arms with the flag in the PVC pipe and drink water. I can not tell you how good it makes me feel to see people wave and salute the colors as they pass. The big trucks down on the innerstate just ''hang on the horns'' when they see the Colors. I was very proud and very happy and my day was going good but my arms just dont last like they use to doing this. (must be getting old I guess) When I stand and wave the colors I watch the peoples faces as they pass me on the bridge. Many smiles and high signs, many pretty girls waving and throwing kisses sometimes. One lady stopped and gave me two more bottles of really cold water and said ''Thank you for your service sir''. (how the heck did she know I had been a Sailor?) Things were going great, I was showing the colors and getting all kinds of recognition from it and really having a good time because I had taken a ''pain pill'' and my arms were hurting less and less and my legs were doin' good also.
It should be understoond that the bridge I was standing on has three lanes going north. Two lanes are for thru traffic and the extreme right lane is a turn lane that takes you down on I-40 East bound after you go around a clover leaf.
There were three cars easing over into the right turn lane and I noticed the last car kinda hanging back from the other two. He deliberately slowed down as he approached me. The first two cars waved and saluted the colors and the last guy that was ''hanging back'' gave me the finger …........ Yep, this punk shot me the rod and I read his lips as he said ''#@%K YOU and #@%K YOUR FLAG'' He did this while he was still about 15 feet in front of me and I know that is what he said. I immediately jammed the flag staff into the PVC pipe and went ballistic. I immediately flipped over into ''Sailor Language'' and in a very loud voice as he passed me with his window down I made reference to his heritage, his mother, his sister, his personal preferences in sexual partners his under developed sex organ, his propensity for offering candy to little boys and I invited him to pull over and I would teach him some manners. I did all this on one breath and never repeated myself in my tirade He went up and made his right turn for the clover leaf down to I-40 east bound. I watched him as he was going kinda slow so I stepped forward to be sure he could hear me down on the interstate and again went thru a selected grouping of ''Sailor Talk'' using it well and not repeating any phrases or combination of words and I was shaking my fist at this person all the while. He shot me the ''shaft'' again and said something back but a semi drowned it out. I was very much upset as I stood there leaning on the railing of the bridge. I turned around to retrieve my Colors and guess what …... Yep, a very large police officer was stand maybe a foot behind me, his cruiser in the turn lane with the blues flashing. OOOOOPS....
''Are you ok sir?''
''Uhhhhhhh, yep, just a little bit upset concerning a comment a guy made about my Flag sir''.
''You really need to control your voice sir, I heard you when I started across the bridge back at the light. Seems you were very angry at the man in the dark car....... Right?'' ''It has been a while since I have heard profanity like you were using toward him. Let me guess......... You were a Sailor because ''ground pounders'' dont know that variety of cuss words and ''fly boys'' will get spanked if they talk like that and ''jarheads'' dont know that many words and dont have the syntactic necessary for good sentence structure, so you must have been a Sailor''........''right''?????
''Am I in trouble officer?''
''Well, I could run you in for disorderly conduct or disturbing the peace or yelling more cuss words than I have ever heard yelled without you repeating yourself but I will let you off with a warning for this time if you promise not to do it again''..........

''Done and Done again officer. No more problems from this ''Old Salt'' sir.''

He left and I retrieved my flag and managed to hang on for about an hour more and then my pain pill wore out and I was running low on water and my legs were killing me. I got my ''stuff'' together and went back to the car and came home... While riding home I thought about what had happened on the bridge and I thanked God that I did not have ''Mr S&W'' with me when that clown insulted my Colors cause I might be typing in striped sunshine now.
Let us never forget 9/11. Let us never forget who did this awful thing to this great nation and NEVER FORGET that some can not be appeased regardless of out good intent.
Nuff said for now.... (I feel the ''delete button'' being hovered over)
========================================================================
NOTE FROM CJ... For an explanation the ''guy'' that shot me the rod was of ''middle eastern decent'' I could tell by his hair his beard and his clothing and his overall appearance and the smell of ''camel poop'' on his hands. this was not in the original post ...... be safe ....
In retrospect I guess I should have ''waited until I was not mad to make the post and I probably would not be in trouble now......cj..

FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO CARE.....

This is a posting for anyone that might visit this blog and wonder what happened to Seajay the sailor man. here is the short version..

It seems that I have goofed up again on IRV2 and got booted till october 12 i think. I am not sure about the date but it is about then.
I have activated my account on RV.NET and am registered on there as SEAJAY sailor man if you want to amble over for a look around. I need something to keep my fingers busy while I am away for this time. I will not swear that they will reactivate my account on IRV2 ... time will tell on that ...
Until I see you again..... BE SAFE MY FRIENDS AND REMEMBER
God bless our troops and keep them safe.....
See you guys at National Rally if they will let me in ....lol....

Seajay the sailor man ...

Palma.... the toilet post

I read another story on her posted by a sailor that also went to the island of Palma. It is a small island in the Med off the coast of Spain and a darn good liberty port for sailors.

Palma is a small town on the island where the booze was cheap and the coffee was cheep and the ladies were very friendly to sailors if you happen to have a couple dollars that you wanted to spend carelessly. Over in the ''old part'' of the town the streets were about the width of our sidewalks and they were lined with buildings with doorways that opened directly out on the street. Ladies would stand in these door ways ''hawking'' their wears to the sailors that may go staggering by. It was kinda like a ''reverse auction'' with the product person and the ''bidder'' haggling over the price of said ''wears'' concerning the length of the rental period and exactly what is included in the terms of the rental agreement with ''offers'' and ''refusals'' on both sides until a satisfactory agreement is reached between both parties concerning the ''product'' offered for use to the buyer as it were. The price usually was around two dollars american. The fun really started when another prospective ''buyer'' stepped up and got into the bidding. I saw it happen to a buddy of mine and while he was ''haggling'' another sailor stepped up and became the second man in the ''haggle''. My friend turned to the second sailor and invited him to remove himself from the ''haggle'' or suffer the consequences of a ''bidding interruption process'' in which he was the party of the first part. It should be understood right now that both participants in said ''auction''(?) had been in more than one shot of the fine burbon available over there for about 25 cents a hit. The second sailor told my friend that he should go fly a kite and my friend smacked him in the mouth at which point the second sailors friend hit my friend and I hit the second sailor in the back of the head while he was helping his friend off the cobble stones in the street. The lady of the evening had disappeared back into the door where she was promoting her personal business and me and my friend went fist and skull with the two other sailors for several rounds. No one was ''winning'' because we were all drunk to the nines and the fight broke up when the shore patrol hit the whistles and we all broke and ran like rabbits. After several turns into allies and finally wound up hiding in a bar and we managed to get away from the Shore Patrol. Personally I believe they blew the whistles just to watch us run because I saw that happen again while we were there.
Anyhow, me and my buddy decided to split up because we knew they would be looking for two guys so he went one way and I went another.

You need to understand that the ''bars'' over there are slightly bigger than a broom closet most of the time. I wound up in a place called ''Bar Soul'' which was about 10 feet wide and about 35 feet long. It was lit by Christmas tree lites and the light from a juke box. It was mostly a long bar with stools and a couple tables in the back and one toilet...... I asked the bartender for the ''la trene'' and he pointed to the door in the back of the bar.
Understand this. The toilet consisted of three tiled walls with a water pipe on top and water dripping down the wall into a ditch that leads to a drain. There was also a hole about four inches in diameter in the middle of the tiled floor. That was it. No flushing, no paper, one small lite in the middle of the room and the ''smell'' was pretty rough. Anyhow, I ''went to the wall'' and was writing my name, rank and serial number using my bodily fluid discharge when I realized that another person had just walked into the room. I turned round and low and behold there was one of the bar girls squatting over the hole in the middle of the floor. HOLLY CAT STUFF.... This literally embarrassed the dickens out of me and I stopped half way thru writing my service number, buttoned up and hit the bricks out of there. The bar girl just laughed at me and said ''wait a minute sailor man''...... didnt happen.... I left.....

From then on, when I went into a bar the first thing I checked out was the bathroom to see if it had separate facilities …....
strange as it may seem a lot of the ''bar girls'' were very pretty. Long black hair, dark eyes and dark skin smooth as silk sometimes. Most of them carried ''Health Cards'' they would show you to show that they had been inspected by the health authority and that they were ''clean'' at the time of inspection.
Nuff said about this for now but I will tell you that Palma is one heck of a liberty port and any sailor or marine that has been there can tell you some sea stories that will make you ''drool''................

God bless this great nation and the men and women that defend it....

Seajay the sailor man ….

MY HEARTS AT SEA FOREVER

My Heart's at Sea Forever

Long ago I was a Sailor.
I sailed the Ocean blue.
I knew the bars in Singapore...
The coastline of Peru.

I knew well the sting of salt spray,
The taste of Spanish wine,
The beauty of the Orient...
Yes, all these things were mine.

But I wear a different hat now,
Jeans & T-shirts too.
My sailing days were long ago...
with that life I am through.

But somewhere deep inside of me...
The sailor lives there still.
He longs to go to sea again,
But knows he never will.

My love, my life, is here at home,
and I will leave her never.
Though mind and body stay ashore...
My heart's at sea forever.

Note to everyone.
I really wish this was mine.
I DID NOT WRITE THIS POEM BUT I SURE WISH I WOULD HAVE ..
I do not know the author of this piece

Seajay the sailor man ..

VISITORS ABOARD THE ''NORTON''

In another post I talked about being in Sweden for at least a week and I really think everyone fell in love at least several times and I personally lost about eight pounds while we were there. Case in point......

While we were there we had ''Welcome Visitors Aboard'' and the response was almost overwhelming. They put up a special gang way for the civies to come aboard the ship for a look around. We closed off restricted areas on the ship to limit the roaming around of the civies but there was still scads of them that came aboard. The cooks and bakers prepared all kind of sweet treats for the visitors including coffee, juice, co co and all the finery that the ship could come up with including ice cream (we had a ice cream machine on board)
It didnt take too long for the ladies to figure out that this was a good way to meet sailors. If we were between watches we could kinda stand around in the passage ways and prop against the bulkhead and sorta smile as they went by. Some would smile back and stop and talk. A few of them spoke good English but most just ''smiled''. We would escort them down to the mess hall and treat them to ''sweets''. Sometimes if they smiled just right you could take them on a special ''tour'' of the spaces that most did not get to go but you had to be very careful doing this because that ''special place'' may or may not be already occupied and busy.
In the radio gang we had several ''outlieing spaces'' that were ''closed down '' while we were in port because they were not in use. One of these spaces was radio six up in the secondary conning tower on the stern of the ship. Way back and way up six decks and not used in port...(for communications)........

Anyhow. You would roam around the ship with your ''visitor'' and kinda ease under the restriction rope and scurry up six decks to the secondary conning station for a good look around and to ''test the waters'' so to speak with the ''visitor'' and to see if you had a ''fair wind or foul'' with possibilities of a close encounter of the ''fun kind'' with said visitor. Most of the time it worked out well but the comforts were lacking as there was only a single blanket in radio six and the decks were steel. Remember, all is possible if you are a sailor with determination and you remembered to lock the door on the inside of radio six. We tried and tried to figure out how to get a mattress up there with out anyone noticing but it never worked out .
ENOUGH ABOUT THAT FOR NOW...

On a Navy ship you have things called ''Light Locks''..... This is a devise where you have two doors. One inside the ship and one on the ''outside'' of the ship. They functioned like this. When we ran ''dark ship'' both of these doors were closed and when you went outside the ship you went thru the inside door and closed it. To have enough light to see the other door or hatch there was a ''lo lite'' red light that gave just enough light for you to see how to get to the outside door and go out of the ship without spreading white light during the night and giving away the position of the ship at sea...
Usually when we were in port the inside door was latched in the open position. Here is the story I heard that caused a lot of restrictions as to ''visitors aboard the Norton''......

It was told to me that a senior officer was walking down a passage way (hall way) and noticed one of the ''inside light lock doors'' was closed. Hummmm? Seems he went up to the door and put his ear to the door and listened....... Hummmmmmmmm? Without warning he burst into the ''light lock'' and caught this sailor and a beautiful Swed lady in a very compromising position engaging in an activity best reserved for a more comfortable place. In her haste to re arrange her clothing to a more presentable face she managed to damage a portion of the sailors body in a manner that I will not reveal here. The sailor in turn leaped to a position of, shall we say ''attention'' , slipped on the steel deck and fell against the forward wall of the light lock with his ''yard arm'' fully exposed. This seemed to embarrass the officer as much or more as the couple and he quickly closed the door and stood in the passage way shouting orders to the sailor telling him that he was ''on report'' and to present himself as soon as he got his uniform back in ship shape order and to do so immediately. The sailor asked for a minute to compose himself that he may be presentable in a more ship shape manner and he would come out forthwith and face his punishment. The officer said Ok and waited in the passage way.. Time passed and nothing happened...... More time passed.... nothing.... finally the officer opened the inside door and found the lite lock EMPTY. Seems the sailor and the lady had sneaked out the outside door, she disappeared in the crowd and the sailor went down to his quarters and changed into his dungarees and went to join a clean up crew. The sailor figured that the officer was so busy looking elsewhere that he did not even notice the sailors face or anything about him except the beautiful lady arranging her clothing and the ''Yard Arm'' fully exposed as it were on the sailor.

They restricted visiting aboard the Norton from then on and it really cut down on all our fun and the officer never did recognize me...oops the sailor......
So it went in beautiful Stockholm in the land of the beautiful blonds that just loved sailors......

for all you ''Doubting Thomas's '' this is a true story as I remember it.

Lets all thank a military person for their service to this great nation.

Seajay the sailor man …..

Once a Marine

I post this out of respect and admiration for my Marine brothers that serve this country and for all the service men and women that put their life on the line every day for our freedom.

Once a Marine, always a Marine
Msgt Paul Woyshner, USMC

Long after the uniform has
been laid aside, the last order
has been given, the final salute
returned, the last handshake
shared, and the occasional tear
brushed away by a determined
hand, Long after that, it still
runs in your veins. Lives on in
your mind. Dominated your will.
Long after that you feel the call.
The esprit that can only be shared
among brothers. Among individuals
bonded together by the truest of ideals
"Once a Marine always a Marine."

Hope this was ok to post on this blog Wayne...

Lets all remember our troops in our prayers every night.....

Seajay the sailor man ....

I chipped my front tooth

Me and Willa were up in Canada in 05 I think. We had gone up to see a friend in North Bay and we were rambling around as we ambled along coming back south.
We were in a nice campground and I wanted to go out and see the countryside and decided the best way to do this would be on a bicycle. Unfortunately ,,,,,,,, I didn't have a bike. I asked Willa if she would like to go rent a bike and go riding and she told me no and she would stay home and read and relax but I should go on and have some fun and take some pictures as I rode along. I got in the truck and went looking for a bike rental shop. I got kinda off the main road and I found a bicycle rental place that rented mountain bikes. Hummmmm? That could be fun so I went up on the porch and inside and asked some questions. ''How much to rent a bike.'' Ten dollars per hour. ''Where do I get a helmet?'' For the ten dollars we provide everything. ''Do you have trails that are easy for us beginners''? Yep, we give you a map and the ten dollars includes the use of any trail on our property and we have miles and miles of trails that are well marked.......
I gave them my credit card and they gave me a helmet, knee pads and a ragged pair of gloves with three of the fingers missing on the left glove.
The helmet was way too big and the guy told me that this was so I would get ''good circulation'' of air while I rode the bike. I mentioned the kite string for a chin strap and he said that they used that so that if I caught the helmet on a tree limb, it would break off and not hurt my neck. I mentioned that the knee pads seem to be for the right knee only and he said that was ok and they should be that way. I mentioned that the left glove was missing three fingers and he said that was so I could ''speed shift'' the bike for more control. He went and got me a bike.
Now the bike was kinda ''slack'' to say the least. The right pedal would not ''turn on the pedal shaft'' and the left pedal was just a steel shaft attached to the crank shaft. I asked about this and he told me that they would oil the right pedal and it would work fine. He said the left pedal shaft was for broad sliding if necessary. I noticed that the back tire was pretty well worn out and he said that they liked the ''smooth flat look'' in the rear tire for more traction on the hills. I also mentioned that the front forks were kinda loose and he said that this was the ''built in knee action'' in the front end for a better ride on rough ground. I also mentioned that this bike had no rear wheel brakes. He told me that I should only use the front wheel brakes any way. I took the bike outside and noticed that the front wheel wobbled. He said that was for dodging rock and rabbits and squerels and stuff on the trails.
I flopped the helmet on my head and tied the string under my chin. I put on the knee pads and the gloves and got my trail map and headed out for fun and adventure. I hung my camera around my neck so I could take some really good pictures on the trail. He suggested that I should start on ''Easy Street'' and work my way up to harder trails. I headed out with the trail map in my teeth. I went up a dirt road and around a curve and then up a steep trail and around another turn. There was a sign that said Easy Street but it did not say which way. I stopped and looked at my map and it was drawn with a crayola crayon by a first grader. The right pedal still was not working and the front wheel was wobbling and the front end seemed very lose to me but the front brake seemed to work well but the bike seemed to be stuck in second gear. I wobbled on up the hill for a long ways and looked at the map again and I seen a trail labled ''Hells Gate'' on the left up ahead and ''Easy Street on the right. I wanted to be really careful and not use ''Hells Gate'' trail but I failed to notice that I had the map upside down when I looked at it. I climbed about a quarter mile more and turned right on the trail I thought was ''Easy Street'' ….. Both signs had been destroyed and there were only nails in the tree where the sign had been. I stopped at the top and tightened my helmet string and pulled my gloves up tight and adjusted my knee pads. I took a deep breath and eased over the side of the mountain. Much to my suprise the ''Trail'' was pretty much vertical with large trees, rocks, stumps, boulders, tree trunks, a trash pile and several ditches across the trail for drainage. Lovely. I pedaled on assured that this was ''Easy Street'' and it would level out soon. WRONG..
The real secret to mountain biking is ''speed control''. I noticed that my speed was going up because the map in my teeth kept flapping up over my eyes so I grabbed the front wheel break lever and it broke off in my hand. I said shux and broad slid the bike on the left hand pedal spike and got it stopped... In the process my helmet flopped off and fell in a large mud puddle in the drainage ditch and promptly sank in the mud. I said shux again and retrieved the helmet. I dumped the mud out of the helmet and flopped it back on my head and noticed it seemed to fit much better. I put the string under my chin and climbed back on the bike. I pointed it down hill and I could see that it was going to speed up very quickly so I decided to just manage the best I could.


When I hit about the speed of sound I went over a giant bump and the rear tire went ''BOOM'' and the bike and me and the helmet and the gloves and knee pads went airborne for seemed like fifty feet. In the process of flying I looked down and the found forks where the front tire had been and the front tire was gone...... GONE????? Yep it fell off on the start of the bump. I said shux and my ''map'' flew out of my mouth so I really held on to the handle bars assured that I was ok because I was wearing a helmet, gloves, and knee pads.
When the bike came down the front forks stuck in the ground like a pitch fork in a pile of horse manure and the bike did a forward flip tossing me off like a rag doll. I smashed into a small tree and my helmet flew off to parts unknown but I still had the mud on my head for protection...... In my panic of trying to hold the handle bars my gloves had ripped at the seams and went flying and it seems that my left knee pad had hit the handle bars as I went over and it was torn away. I knew I still had my camera because it flew up and chipped my front tooth. I was really lucky because I landed on my butt in the mud in the second drainage ditch when I stopped bouncing down the hill. As I was setting in the mud looking to see what parts of my body I had lost I was smacked in the back of the head by the errant front wheel that had fallen off at the first bounce on the trail. It ran up my back and across my head and disappeared going down the mountain doing about ninety miles per hour.


I gathered up the pieces of the bike I could find and headed back to the ''rent shack'' ….. The guy in the rent shack decided that I had destroyed a three hundred dollar mountain bike, lost a fifty dollar helmet, torn up a twenty five dollar set of imitation leather gloves and lost a genuine imitation plastic twelve dollar knee pad and blown out a ''super efficient, all terrine, special tread'' rear tire that costs thirty dollars each..... . I told him that I would give him twenty five bucks total including the bike rental or he could just sue me and get nothing....
Words of wisdom from Seajay. If you have never been ''mountain biking'' DON'T GO, IT AIN'T WORTH IT........
(COUGH COUGH)


Thank a vet for your freedoms ….. They earned it for you.

Submariner poem

I want everyone to understand that I did not write this poem. To me it says a lot but you have to ''READ'' the poem and absorb the meanings. It is as ''Pure Sailor'' as Sailor can be.....

Seajay the sailor man.....



Brothers of the ‘Phin’
By Larry Dunn



I chanced upon a sailor once,
with an emblem on his chest.
It appeared to be two angry sharks,
on a trash can for a rest.



His white hat was wrinkled and dirty;
his neckerchief tied too tight
and he had only one eye open
as he staggered through the night.




He was young and scrawny and wiry;
with knuckles cracked and oozing.
I could tell from the way he looked and smelled,
he'd spent the night ah whorin'.



But as he pulled abreast, he squared his hat
and said "Sir, do you have a light?
I'm due back aboard by quarter to four
Or the COB will be settin' me right".




As I fumbled around for my lighter
he pulled some smokes from his sock
"and I'll be damned lucky to make it," he muttered
'Cause I'm steamin' against the clock."




Through the flame of my well-worn Zippo
I could see a smile on his face.
"But, you know -- it was darn well worth it.
That 'Bell's' is a helluva place."




He sucked the smoke deep down in his lungs
and blew smoke rings up towards the moon.
Then he rolled up his cuffs, pushed his hat to the back
and said "Maybe there'll be a cab soon."



In spite of the time he was losing
He was wanting to shoot the breeze.
So we sat on the curb, like two birds on a perch
as he talked of his life on the seas.



I asked about the thing on his chest
and he looked at me with a grin.
Then he squared his hat, snubbed out his smoke
and said "I'm a Brother of the 'Phin."



"I'm one of the boys who go under the sea
where the lights from above don't shine;
Where mermaids play and Neptune is king
and life and death intertwine."



"Life on a boat goes deep in your blood
and nothing on earth can compare
to the feeling inside as she commences a dive
going deep on a hope and a prayer."



"I've sailed some fearsome waters
down below the raging main
and I've heard that old boat creak and groan
like the wheels of a railroad train."



"It's the one place on earth where there ain't no slack
where you don't have more than you need;
where each man is prince of his own little space
and lives by the submarine creed."



"There ain't much I've done in this fickle life
that would cause other men to take note,
But I've walked in the steps of some mighty fine men
who helped keep this country afloat."



"They slipped silently through the layers
down below that raging main
while up above enemy men-o'-war
laid claim to the same domain."



"Brave sailors were they
in their sleek boats of steel
silently stalking their prey
and closing in for the kill."



"They died as they lived,
unafraid, proud and free
Putting all on the line
to secure liberty."



"Their bones now rest in glory
down in Neptune's hallowed ground.
But their souls stand tall at the right hand of God
awaiting the klaxon's sound."



"So, it's more than a 'thing' that I wear on my chest
It's a badge of the brave, proud and true.
It's a tribute to those who have gone here before,
riding boats that are still overdue"



"It's the "Dolphins" of a submariner
worn proudly by the few,
who've qualified at every watch
and touched every bolt and screw."



"They know the boat on which they sail
like they know their very soul
and through the fires of hell or the pearly gates
they're ready for each patrol."



"But when in port they take great sport
standing out from all the rest.
For deep inside they burn with pride
for the dolphins on their chest."



Then he stood erect, squared his hat
and pulled his neckerchief down to the 'V'.
He rolled down his cuffs, put his smokes in his sock
and squinted back towards the sea.



"I can hear them diesels calling
so I'd best be on my way.
We'll be punchin' holes in the ocean
when the sun peeks over the bay."



As I watched him turn and walk away,
I felt honored to know such men.
for they bring life to Duty, Honor and Country,
these "Brothers of the 'Phin

AN EXPLINATION

i would like everyone to know that my Blog with most of my posting off of IRV2 are TRUE TO MY MEMORY. You guys should remember that I was in the Navy from late 1958 until 1962 and I am now 71 years old and to be honest, things can get a little foggy over that many years. I will say this THEY ARE TRUE AS I REMEMBER THEM because they burned into my mind as they happened. Virtually all of them were FIRST PERSON, FIRST TIME EXPERIENCES and they really stuck in my mind. I want everyone to understand that they may be ''slightly embellished'' to a point for more fun reading but they are all based on truth as I remember them.
The story of Katy O'neal does not contain all the personal stuff because it would not be worthy of print here on IRV2 and I would guarantee it would not pass the sensors if I had put in all the '' good parts ''......lol..... That was one of those things that happens to a man ''once in his life'' and you remember it the rest of your life like watching a movie in your mind. No, it was not my ''first time'' but it was my ''first time'' with a lady that really knew how to please a man and how to show a man how to really ''please her'' and NO she was not a ''lady of the evening'' as it were, she was just a lady that I happened to strike her fancy for some reason and I thank the good Lord for that experience ..... Nuff said on this because I would guess someone is reaching for his ''delete'' button.....
The other sea stories are from the Uss North Hampton CLC1 while I served aboard her for about 30 months and my service in Cheltenham MD while on shore duty. I am sure more will come back to me as I sit and think about my service to this nation in the Navy.
All of you should remember that others have posted in the ''Sea Stories'' and a lot of them are really good reading.
I hope everyone will go to my blog and enjoy the stories. One word of caution...... If you read a post and you see (cough cough) in the text or at the end of the post ........ IT IS WRITTEN FOR SATIRE..... It is from a real happening but I have highly embellished it to a point of satire and that is the way it is meant. It is for ENTERTAINMENT and should be taken as such.
Again, I invite everyone to go look, and read, and enjoy my blog at
My Life as I remember it and other boaring stuff and please leave a comment so I will know you were there.......

God bless our service people and keep them safe .....

I AM A VETERAN

I AM A VETERAN
I am the man that stood on Concord Green when the British officer said ‘’Disperse you rebels’’….. I am the man with the 69 caliber, smooth bore musket, with three shots of powder and ball in my duffel. I am the one that raised my musket and whispered ‘’Like HELL'’ and fired the shot heard round the world. I was killed in the return volley from the British ….. I was the first casualty……… I am a veteran….
I stood on Bunker Hill with two shots of powder and only stones to go down the barrel of my musket and I heard the order ‘’Don’t fire till you see the whites of their eyes’’. I was killed in the first return volley from the British….. I am a veteran….
I froze at Valley Forge and I died from measles, mumps, dysentery, frostbite and fever. I was paid with paper money with no value and I stayed because I felt I was fighting for something bigger than me. I am a veteran.
I was a sailor on the Bon Home Richard when John Paul Jones told the British ‘’I have not yet begun to fight’’………… I was killed by shrapnel from a cannon ball……… I am a veteran.
I was aboard the Constitution as a Marine in the “tops” when the enemy shouted that “Her sides are made of iron”………. I fell to my death on the deck below…. I am a veteran
I was at Yorktown when the British surrendered. I was a soldier in the Continental army and I saw it happen…….. I am a veteran
In 1812 I was in Fort McHenry when the British thought they could blast it into submission ……. When the colors were shot down, I climbed the flag mast and re tied old glory in her rightful place so she might be seen by our enemy. I was killed by an exploding shell ……… I am a veteran
I was a sailor aboard the USS Maine in Havana harbor when she was blown to bits by a sea mine. I was killed while shaving …….. I am a veteran
In World War One I went over with ‘’Black Jack Pershing’’ to France . I was a soldier that slept in the mud and suffered trench foot and mustard gas attacks. I ‘’Went over the top’’ to capture a German machine gun implacement. I and hundreds more died because we were told to die. I am a veteran
I am an unknown soldier buried in Flanders Field. I am known only to God. I am a veteran.
I was a pilot in a “rag and string” biplane and was killed over France by a man in a red tri -plane…. I was burned beyond recognition… I am a veteran
I am a black soldier that was denied service in a country I fought to defend... I am a veteran
I am Sgt York of WW1.... I am a veteran
In World War Two I was a sailor aboard the USS Arizona. I was asleep when the assault came and I never knew what hit me…. My bones lie in that great tomb in Pearl Harbor. I am a veteran.
In that same war I stood in line to volunteer for the military along with thousand and thousands of young men willing and eager to serve their country for twenty two dollars a month. I am a veteran
I was a Navy pilot flying inferior equipment, fighting against one of the most seasoned, best equipped, best trained air forces in the world. I was killed over the Pacific Ocean and my body never recovered. I am a veteran
I was a waste gunner on a B 17 flying daylight missions over Germany. I fired a 50 caliber machine gun against another of the best equipped, best trained, best fighting machines in the world at that time. My life expectancy was four missions… I died instantly when an 88 mm anti aircraft shell went into the open bomb bay doors… I am a veteran
I am a soldier and I stormed Omaha Beach from a landing craft. I saw my brothers blown to pieces and I forged ahead. I would not quit and I would not stop. I was killed by machine gun fire before I got to the edge of the water………. I am a veteran
I am buried under a cross marked ‘’Known only to God’’ in hundreds of cemeteries all around the world ……….. I am a veteran
I am a sailor aboard one of the many Submarines that went out on patrol and never returned. My bones lie on the bottom of the ocean in a place also known only to God. I am a veteran.
I am a Marine. I fought one of the toughest, most determined armies in the world. I fought an army that thought it was shameful to surrender and glorious to die for ones emperor and country. I died thousands of times ……… I am a veteran
I am the Sullivan Brothers…. I am a veteran
I am that sailor that was assigned to the Marines when we raised the flag on Iwo Jima. ….. I am a veteran
I am a ''Red Ball Express'' truck driver in Europe delivering ammo and food to the front lines ... I am a veteran
I am a medic trying to save young men with bombs going off all around me... I am a veteran
I am Ira Hayes, US Marine Corps. I am a veteran
I am Audie Murphy, US Army. I am a veteran
I am a Tuskegee Airman with the 332nd fighter squadron.
I am a Native American “code talker”. I am a veteran.
I was in the Bataan death march and watched as my friends were beheaded because they did not bow low enough. I am a veteran ..
I am a soldier fighting in Europe against one of the finest, best trained, best equipped armies in the world at the time ….I am buried in France, listed as ''known only to God'' …..I am a veteran
I flew with Tibbets in the Enola Gay and dropped the bomb that ended the war.... I am a veteran
I am a sailor aboard the USS Missouri and I watched our enemy strike his colors and sign the surrender………………… I am a veteran
I fought on the ground in Korea with frozen feet and in the air with World War two airplanes while my enemy flew MIG 15 jets and cut us to pieces…… I am a veteran
I am a doctor in a M.A.S.H. unit twenty miles behind the front lines. I put soldiers back together. I work an eighteen-hour shift……. I am a veteran
I am a nurse in a field hospital. I watch so many young men die and there is nothing I can do... I am a veteran
I am a soldier in a rice paddy slogging along with 60 pounds on my back. No one seems to know exactly why we are here or what we are supposed to accomplish……….. My name is on a black slab of marble on the Washington Mall…… I am a veteran
I am a nurse providing care for the young men brought in by Medivac. I was killed by a Sappers grenade….. I am a veteran
I am one of the thousands buried at Arlington Cemetery in Virginia . I am black, white, Hispanic, and Native American. I am from all nations and all colors. I am Christian, Jewish, Catholic and all beliefs and sometimes agnostic. I am the man in the tomb of the “UNKNOWN SOLDIER” ..I am a veteran.
I died aboard the USS COLE and in the Marine barracks in Beirut . I was killed in Granada and again in Panama ….. In Desert Storm I was killed by friendly fire and in Afghanistan I died trying to rescue a fellow soldier that was bleeding to death…I am a veteran …
I have tasted the copper taste of fear and did my duty and I have held a friend in my arms and watched him die....... I am a veteran
As a veteran I ask for nothing from you. I did what I have done for my Country and my fellow fighting personnel. I did it because it had to be done and because if I had not done it we would not have this great country and the freedoms we so take for granted today.
I am a veteran
I am the old man in the wheel chair. I have an Amreican flag taped to the back post and an old Army garrison cap on his head. I am the one that still salutes the colors when they go by in the Veterans Day Parade. I am missing my right leg......... I am a veteran
I am but one of the millions of men and women that gave Uncle Sam a blank check with my name on it and told him that he could write any amount up to and including my life cashable at his request...... I am a veteran

I did this so you could have freedom of speech and religion. I did this so you would have the right to burn my flag without fear of persecution. All these things I have done for you so that you might be free and enjoy the freedom of this great country..
I am one of millions of un-appreciated men and women that gave a portion of my life in service to this country and I did it because it had to be done and I would do it again, without hesitation, should the need arise.
I am a veteran …….. GOD BLESS AMERICA
GOD BLESS OUR TROOPS AND BRING THEM HOME SAFE AND SOON
GOD BLESS OUR VETS FOR THEIR SERVICE TO THIS GREAT NATION
Seajah the sailor man
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WHY I DONT FLY FISH

Montana Fly Fishing


we were in Cody Wyoming. we were heading out for yellowstone but i wanted to go trout fishing while in cody.
there are many trout tackle shops in cody so i told willa that i was going to look into some trout fishing. she said she was going to hang out at the van and enjoy some reading. I got in the tracker and headed out looking for a tackle shop.
I stopped at ‘’bobs trout shop’ and went up to the counter.
‘’I want to go trout fishing. what do i need’’
bob started setting tackle on the counter.
here is the short list of items he suggested
2 pc flyrod . split bamboo hand made signature series $229.00
1 fly reel . all ball bearing, auto rewind, chrome $199.00
100 feet of floating fly line with tapered leader $ 50.00
one set of chest waders, lined for warmpth $129.00
one plaid shirt with deep top pockets $ 40,00
the list went on including a gps unit, bear spray a map of local rivers, bug spray, a fishing hat, a fishing vest, a hand made creel to hold the fish i catch, a hand made net for lifting the fish out of the water and lots of other ‘’stuff’’ that i have forgotten now.
bottom line, the total was little less than a grand without the fishing license.
I told bob i would get back with him on this and i sneaked out of the store.
i drove down the street to the local wal mart and went to the fishing department.
i asked some kid if they had a ‘’trout fishing’’ outfit and he showed me to isle 15. there it was.. the complete ensemble for trout fishing.
it included everything you needed from the 6 piece imitation bamboo fly rod with genuine plastic reel and line, fishing vest and hat. a set of chest waders made from the reinforced 6 mill polly complete with suspenders. a large box of imitation flies that are hand made by people in china. a map of some foreign country, a compass, a giant ¾ ounce bottle of bug/bear spray. all a man could need to go trout fishing ………. $59.95 plus tax.
i asked the kid if he knew a place i could go fishing if i bought this outfit. he said he sure did . he said his friend knew a guy that was distantly related to a man that had a ranch that had a river that was just teeming with trout. he could give me the directions.
i bought the $59.95 outfit and listened carefully to the instructions. he mentioned that the owner of this land liked coors beer and those ‘’sweet sixteen donuts’’ and it might be a good idea to carry some to give to him.
i bought the kit and headed out. you have to remember that this kid was not real accurate with his instructions to this fishing spot. i followed as best i could but i am sure i made a couple of wrong turns but i finally arrived at a gate. i opened the gate and proceeded down a dirt road thru another gate and toward a hill. excitement was overwhelming and i pressed on toward the edge of the hill .. i didn’t realize that the other side of the hill was a cliff. by the time i realized that this was a very steep drop off it was too late. i bumped over the edge and did a wild slide down the other side toward the river. with all the wheels locked on the tracker and panic in my eyes i approached the river at breakneck speed. lumps and bumps and many ‘cow pies’ later i arrived at the bottom of the hill with a cotton wood tree jammed against the front of the car.. one broken head light and a bent bumper no matter, i was on the madison river . during my ride down the hill the bumps had made the Coors beer pop out of the pack. one of them had ruptured and did a fish tale all over the tracker spraying everything with beer. the sweet sixteen bag of donuts had also ruptured and donuts were kinda scattered all over the tracker.
no matter i was on the ‘Madison river’ and in trout heaven.
when i got out of the tracker several cows came walking along the river bank toward me. this distracted me and i stepped into a fresh pile of cow poop. i said shux … i went in over my shoe top and my sock and my sneaker installY turned green. i said shux. i went to the back of the tracker and got out my fishing kit. i opened it and put the six piece imitation bamboo fly rod together. one of the sections kept falling out so i took some duct tape and taped the rod together at all the joints. i said shux. i got the reel out and discovered that one of the attachment tabs was missing so i taped the reel to the rod and installed the line. i didn’t know that the line had to be treated with wax in order to float. i put the tapered leader on the regular line but i got it backwards with the heavy end forward. i said shux ….
i took out the fishing vest and discovered it was the size that would fit a person about half as big as me. i put the vest on and when i touched my hands together in front of me the vest ripped up the back. at least it fit better now. the hat was a size 6 which is way too small for me but i put the string under my chin and that sorta held the hat on my head so long as i did not look down.
i reached for the waders and found that the had a hole in the left leg. i said shux … out came the duct tape again and i put a silver ‘’x’’ over the hole. i slid my left foot (the one with the cow poo on the shoe) into the wader and it slid right in all the way to the bottom. no problem except the clear plastic now had cow poo from the knee down. …. i propped myself against the tracker and slid my right leg into the waders. the only problem was that my right sneaker was very dry and it kinda stuck in the right leg of the waders about a foot from the bottom. i pushed hard to get the shoe in wader, lost my balance, my hat fell off my head and i fell over putting my hand in a large fresh cow pie to stop my fall. i wiped as much of the cow poo off my hand on the side of the tracker…. i said shux again…. i got back up and finally got my right shoe into the waders without tearing the material. i put the suspenders over my shoulders and found they were way too short. i adjusted them all the way out and they were still too short. i pulled the waders way up till the crotch was cutting into me and got the suspenders attached. i leaned over to pick up my hat and it felt like someone had castrated me with a rope.
i took the flyrod and ‘’fished up’’ my hat and got out the flies. i popped open the package and dropped about half the flies on the ground. i took the ones that didn’t hit the ground on to the fishing hat. i put the hat back on my head and put the string under my chin. i picked one of the best looking flies on the leader. i reached into the package and pulled out the genuine plastic fish creel and my machine made dip net,
i was ready for the river. i decided it would be a good idea to have a bite to eat before going fishing so i opened the door of the tracker and found a beer and some of the cleanest donuts and flopped in the seat for a snack.
the cows had been watching this whole procedure with great interest. i think they though i was going to feed them or something.
it should be understood that when you fish for trout you should get into the river and fish down stream so you don’t frighten the fish.
it should also be understood that even thought the water looks nice it is usually moving faster than it appears and that it usually is running over slick rocks.
anyhow, i grabbed my trusty six piece immitation split bamboo rod with the taped joints and the genuine plastic fishing reel that was taped to the handle of my genuine imitation split bamboo flyrod and my genuine hand tied Chinese made fishing fly and i approached the Madison river with all the determination of a bull fighter going into combat.
i looked over the embankment and found that the ‘’river’’ was about three feet down from the to of the embankment. i grabbed the cotton wood tree that i had smashed into with the tracker. i kinda swung one leg down to the river and hung onto a limb while i got the other foot into the water.
the water was about two foot deep and running about three hundred miles per hour. i said shux …..
when i finally got my courage up i turned loose of the limb. the rock i was standing on was very slick and i lost traction with my right foot. it slid over the side of the rock … i said shux….
things kinda went into slow motion about then.
when i lost my footing i jammed the genuine imitation split bamboo fly rod down on the bottom of the river for support. this was almost worthless because the rod bent and separated at one of the taped joints. both feet went up in the air and i fell butt first into water that was just slightly above freezing. the waders instantly filled with water, i lost my hat and wallowed around breaking the fishing rod in at least four pieces. in the process i managed to stick the hook in the fly in my left thumb…… i said darn and shux and oh fudge …
i wallowed around and finally found a flat spot on the bottom of the river and when i stood up the waders were full of water and i looked like bozo the clown. the weight of the water overcame the strength of the plastic and the waders exploded in the crotch. there i stood with the suspenders still over my shoulders in a set of blown out waders. i said heck and shux. i stumbled and waded out of the current finding a low place to crawl out of the river.
my fly rod was gone. my hat was gone, my waders were busted and i had a hook in my thumb. i crawled out on the bank and sat down. it was about that time that i noticed a man on a horse about twenty feet from me.
‘’ do you know you are trespassing mister?’’
‘’ old man McKinney don’t allow no fishin in this river mister. of course no one could accuse you of actually fishing’’ ‘’you seemed to be mostly stumbling around like someone from back east’’
i asked him if he would like a donut and a beer and he said he wasnt interested. he did tell me that he would help me get the tracker off the cottonwood tree and show me the way off the ranch.
i got the hook out of my thumb and the cowboy hooked his horse to the tracker and i managed to get back on the dirt road and headed out toward the motor home.
as I rode along I made a solom promise ..... I WOULD NEVER TRY FLY FISHING AGAIN .... EVER.....
Seajay the sailor man

NORTH TO ALASKA

NORTH TO ALASKA, ACROSS CANADA. THE ADVENTURE BEGINS..

This is the odyssey of the travels of my wife and myself on a trip we took to Alaska. We left on the twenty third day of May and returned back to North Carolina on late August. During the trip we traveled about 16000 miles and we were gone about four months.

The travels of Seajay and Willa.
First hand account of the trials and tribulations of motor home travel.

Me and Willa left North Carolina in a thirty three foot, A class motor home on May 23rd . It was loaded to the extreme with all the necessities for motor home camping. We had plenty of food, maps, rope, tools, fishing equipment, and all the other necessities that you just don’t travel without. We had a case of duct tape (because you never know when you might run across a Duck that need taping.) We also carried our entire collection of cassette tapes in a large cardboard box.

We have a Geo Tracker that we pull behind the coach that is used for exploring and servers the purpose of a “rolling basement” and a rolling stowage area for miscellaneous items that are pretty much useless but are too good to throw away. These items are referred to as “STUFF”. Some of the “stuff” in the back seat of the Tracker was a follows: 100 feet of rope, one axe (very dull, handle cracked and taped) one satellite dish with 50 feet of coax. One satellite dish stand. A shovel with a broken handle. Several pieces of 2 by 12 for leveling the coach. A tow rope. A large blue tarp. 3 fishin’ rods. 2 tackle boxes. 100 feet of garden hose and a lot of other “STUFF”.

We headed west from North Carolina thru Tennessee and Kentucky and thru two states that start with the letter “I”. We rambled thru the mid western states and on to South Dakota. We stopped and looked when we found something interesting and we were really enjoying the trip. We crossed South Dakota and turned north thru Wyoming.

Laughter, fun and food were the order of the day and everyday was a new adventure. We had never been thru Customs before and we were concerned about crossing into Canada. The fear of the unknown is a terrible thing and we had heard horror stories about people being strip-searched and their van ripped apart by the customs agents.
As we crossed Wyoming we prepared for the dreaded customs inspection. We had our medical records, birth certificates, and all or registration papers for the van and the Tracker. We made a list of the liquors, tobacco, beer, and any other thing we could think of so we would be prepared for any question. We quizzed each other with questions we thought they might ask at the border. We memorized the license numbers of the two vehicles. We wanted to be ready and whiz thru customs without a hitch.
As we approached the border I could see that Willa was a little nervous. She had become very quiet and her left hand was shaking a little.
“They can strip search us, can’t they”?
“Sure they can but don’t worry, I’ll do all the talking and we wont have any trouble at all”.
We eased up to the customs station and I stopped the van right in front of the window. I put the coach in park and slid the side window open.
“Howdy”.
It took about 2 seconds to see that this customs agent was all business. She looked over her glasses at me and did not smile.
“Name”.
I blurted out my name.
“Number of people”
“Uuuhhhhhhhhh ……….. I’m the only one in here with that name. Her name is Willa, but I’m the only one named Seajay”.
She looked over her glasses at me again and typed something in the computer.
“No sir, I mean how many people are in the coach”.
Fear enveloped me. I had blown it. I had given a bad answer and she had written something down and I knew we were in trouble. I glanced at Willa and she was wrapped with fear. Her body was contorting into a shape like Quazimoto and she was starting to drool. I could just see the both of us in a cold room with some big-fingered customs agent probing for contraband while two other agents ripped the van apart with crowbars. I tried to regain my composure but my hands were starting to shake and I wet my pants but I tried to remain calm. With a tremble in my voice I replied.
“Two of us. Just me and Willa. No one else, except us, together, her and me, alone, except for each other, together, by our selves but with each other alone”. I smiled a friendly smile.
She wrote something else into the computer.
“Destination”.
“Alaska. Me and Willa are going to Alaska. We are going to travel straight thru to Alaska. We ain’t gonna stop. We are just passing thru Canada to get to Alaska because that’s where we are going. Alaska.”
I realized that this did not sound like we liked Canada and in mid thought I decided that I should at least say something nice about Canada.
“Uuuuuhhhhhh. But we will stop in Canada if it’s ok to stop in Canada. We like Canada and we will stop in Canada too. And spend money, and buy things because we like Canadians because we are sure they are nice folks with stuff to sell, because we brought money to spend in Canada too”.
She looked over her glasses again and typed something in the computer.
“Look mister, I realize that this is probably your first crossing into Canada and you are a little nervous. Just stay calm and just answer the questions and this will make as simple as possible”.
“Are you carrying any guns, tobacco, drugs, beer, wine or liquors”?
“Yes, yes, no, yes, no and yes”.
She laid her head down on the desk and kind of shuttered. She raised her head back and with a determined stare said. “Ok mister, which answer goes with which question.”
I finally got the right answers to the proper questions and she typed something else in the computer.
“How long do you intend to stay in Canada”?
“Ohhhhhhh, for a long time because we like Canada and we like the people too and we uuuhhhhhh…. I don’t know”.
She typed something else into the computer.
“Enjoy your trip sir. You may proceed. Enjoy your journey”.
I was completely taken by surprise. I was dumbfounded. We had cleared customs. I pressed on the accelerator and the engine whined but the coach didn’t move. Thinking I had put the coach in neutral I moved the gear lever one notch down and gunned the engine. The coach lurched backwards and I smashed into the truck behind me breaking out his head light with the bumper of the Tracker.
The customs agent rose from her chair and looked out the window at the truck.
“Just go on sir. No harm done. He would have probably broken the head light anyway”.
I eased out of the border crossing and the entire ordeal had been too much for Willas nerves and she threw up in the box of cassette tapes.
We headed north after I changed my pants and Willa cleaned out the cassette box.

We headed north ...... The adventure continues
(this was transfered from another forum that I use to be on)
GOD BLESS OUR TROOPS AND BRING THEM HOME SAFE AND SOON
GOD BLESS OUR VETS FOR THEIR SERVICE TO THIS GREAT NATION .
Seajay the sailor man

SKINNUM JOES GAS AND TIRE SERVICE

SEAJAY AND WILLA THE ADVENTURE CONTINUES
SKINNUM JOES, GAS AND TIRE REPAIRS
After crossing the border we realized that we had no Canadian money and that we were getting a little low on gas.
“Let’s stop at the next place we see and get some of our money changed and maybe we can get some gas and get the back bumper of the Tracker repaired”.
“I seen a sign that said “Skinnum Joes” up ahead, maybe we could stop there and get some gas”.
There was a sign written in crayon on the front of the gas pump that said
“EXCHANGE RATE 124, 11/14 (plus tax) AMERICAN”
I eased up to the pump.
A guy in coveralls walked up the window on the van.
“How much gas you need pal”?
“Give me 15 gallons please and do you exchange American money”?
“We sell gas by the liter”
“How many liters to the gallon”
“Oh, about 3 and 23/42nds, give or take a little”
“Sooooo, how much do I need for 15 gallons”?
“I ain’t sure. We can figure that out later”.
He stuck the nozzle in the gas filler and pressed the lever. Now it should be understood that some of these pumps up in Canada are the old mechanical type pump that still work on the “rotating number” system and this was one of those pumps. As he squeezed the lever the pump started running and the longer he held the lever the faster the numbers went. At somewhere between three and five gallons the numbers became a blur and the pump started to shake violently.
“Guess I need a re-balance on the numbers again”.
“I’ll go in and get some money changed over into Canadian dollars so I can pay for the gas”.
To be sure I would get some small bill in Canadian money I gave the guy behind the counter four one hundreds, five twenties, two fifties, three tens, two fives, three ones and a hand full of change. The guy behind the counter smiled at me and said that since I was getting a rather large amount changed that Skinnum Joe would split the “exchange tax” so I would save money.
“That will be fifty four dollars and seventy cents pal”.
“Soooo, how many gallons did I get”?
“Well, if you take the liters and multiply them by three and eleven twenty-fourths and then you divide that by the number of gallons you wanted and then you divide that by the exchange rate of one twenty four plus a little and deduct the exchange tax from that you will see how much this is in American money and you will find I gave you a real bargain on the gas because you are our first customer of the day”.
I thanked Skinnum Joe and walked back to the coach.
“Ask him if he can fix the bumper on the Tracker”.
“He don’t fix bumpers, he just sells gas and fixes flats. We can get it fixed later”.

We headed north. The adventure continues ……
Seajay the sailor man ..................
GOD BLESS OUR TROOPS AND BRING THEM HOME SAFE AND SOON
GOD BLESS OUR VETS FOR THEIR SERVICE TO THIS GREAT NATION.

COOK OUT ON THE ALCAN

The first cook out on the Alaska Highway
''Lets have a cook out tonight. We can get the grill out and cook some steaks. I will make some baked potatoes in the oven and we can have a nice meal out of doors on the picnic table.''
Wonderful idea. We stopped for the nite and set up camp. The camp sight was the last one available and it was on a hill. I mean a real hill. It took all the blocks I had to get the front of the coach up to level. When you jack up the front of the coach you raise the steps at the door also. Our steps were at least eighteen inches from the ground to the bottom step. I warned Willa about this and made a mental note of the same. I slid a picnic table over to the side of the coach and finally found enough flat rocks to get one end of the table level. I unrolled the awning and got out the grill. Willa went inside and started preparations for everything as I hooked the hose to the propane tank under the coach. I checked the bad place in the hose that I had repaired a few years ago. It seemed fine because I put some spit on the tape over the break to check for leaks. No leaks. As I went to set up the grill I noticed that the round plastic control handle on the front of the regulator was cracked. I assumed it had slid around in the compartment and smashed against the wall. It was made of plastic and it had numbers on it so you could regulate the gas supply and regulate the heat of the grill. I sat the grill on the table and reached for my match. I lit the match and stuck it thru the bottom hole in the grill and turned the plastic knob to start the gas to the grill. When I turned the knob it split in half and fell on the table. Hummmmmmmmmm ……. I reached in my tool compartment and found my long nose vise grips. There was a small stem sticking out where the plastic handle had been attached so I clicked the vise grips on stem and turned it. The grill lit almost instantly. I decided it was the best idea to leave the vise grips on the little stem so I could regulate the fire in the grill. The greatest problem was that the weight of the vise grips kept turning the grill up too high. To resolve this I found a small sardine can and put it under the handle of the vise grips and that solved the problem. Willa had marinated the steaks and they were ready for the grill so I stepped to the door to get the meat for the fire. As I stepped for the door I got my foot tangled in the gas hose and I accidentally jerked the grill sideways on the picnic table. In doing so the left back leg got caught in the crack between the boards on the picnic table. This broke the leg off flush with the bottom of the grill. It also disturbed the vice grips and they flipped over and fell on the ground under the table. Fire shot out of the top of the grill because it was now turned wide open. To my amazement the broken plastic knob was also the limiter concerning the amount of gas going to the grill. Without the plastic knob you could turn the grill up very high. Much higher than intended. I squatted down and crawled under the table looking for the vise grips. In doing so I put my knee in a pile of dog poop someone had not cleaned up. I said ‘’shux’’ .I found the vise grips, crawled out from under the table, locked the vise grips on the stem and turned the gas back down. Now the grill would rock on the three legs that were still attached to the grill. I looked around and found a small Van Camps Pork and Bean can that was almost the perfect height to go under the back of the grill to replace the broken off leg. I adjusted the fire again and slid my sardine can under the handle of the vise grips. Everything was fine. I got the steaks from Willa and put on the grill to cook. I lowered the lid to speed the cooking. When I lowered the lid I noticed it was sitting kinda off center of the grill. I looked at the back of the grill and noticed one of the hinges on the top of the grill was cracked and just dangling. I found a piece of barbwire and twisted it around the broken hinge. This seemed to fix the lid but when you opened the lid instead of stopping in the vertical position like it should, it flopped all the way down on the table. I found a piece of a wood to lean the grill lid against when I wanted to leave it open. I was very careful with this since we wanted steaks and this was the only grill we had. I eased the steaks on the grill and carefully closed the lid. It should be mentioned here that the handle on the lid has long been gone from the front of the lid. There is one quarter inch bolt with a string around it that is used for a handle to open the lid of the grill.
Ahhhhhhhhh the wonderful smell of steaks on a propane fire. I decided that the steaks would cook better if I had a beer in one hand while I tended the steaks on the grill.
‘’Willa, would you bring me a beer please.’’
Things kinda went down hill from here on.
First….. As I reached for the door I stumbled on the high step. I fell sideways and bumped into the picnic table. This caused the table legs to slide off the rocks that I was using to level the table. In doing so things started happening in slow motion.
Two… When the picnic table legs dropped off piles of rocks the table slumped down and the grill slid sideways. In doing so the grill hopped off the Van Camp Pork and Bean can making the grill slump sideways causing the vise grips to fall off the sardine can. This caused the vise grips to fall and turn the gas wide open and fire shot out the sides of the grill. This also caused the vise grips to pop off the stem on the gas regulator valve. The vise grips fell back under the table again.
Three… In a panic I grabbed the string on the grill lid and yanked the lid open causing it to completely break off the grill. Fire shot up about three feet. Our steaks were turning to charcoal and my awning over the grill was turning brown from the heat from the flames. In a panic I tried to turn off the gas using my fingers. No way.
The awning was starting to get really hot and I knew I had to do something quick or we would be in real trouble. I grabbed my spatula and tossed the burning steaks out in the road. I grabbed the lid and set it back on the grill. This caused the flames to go sideways instead of straight up. I looked around for something to throw on the awning to keep it from catching fire. All I could find was a bottle of Worcester Sauce. I ripped off the cap and tried to fling the sauce on the now melting awning.
By some mericle Willa popped open the door with a beer in her hand she was bringing me. I grabbed it and cracked the tab and shook the can. It worked well in putting out the now scorching awning. When the beer stopped spurting out of the can I scrambled under the picnic table to find the vise grips. I put my other knee in the dog poop again. I got the vise grips on the regulator valve and turned off the gas


‘’What the heck are you doing out here?’’ ‘’Where are our steaks?’’ ‘’Are you trying to set the awning on fire?’’ ‘’Why do you have dog poop on your clothes?’’ Willa asked.

My response was not what she wanted to hear and can not be printed here but I can assure you she was not pleased. She simply slammed the door in a huff.
‘’I’m fixing me a B.L.T. you can fend for yourself’’……..
I scraped all the dog poop I could off my jeans and put away my grill as best I could. I saved the cans so we could use the grill again in the future.
An hour later I went inside there was a can of cold beans and a spoon on the table. There was also a note explaining that she had gone to bed to read and did not want to be disturbed…………….
I ate the beans and watched some French television and slept on the sofa……..

The adventure continues.... on the road to Alaska
Seajay the sailor man...

ANOTHER COOK OUT

THE COOK OUT ……
It should be understood that some of the campgrounds along the Alaska Highway are “Primitive” Some of the campsites are not really level and there are trees in your way when you try to unroll your awning.
We stopped for the night in Swamp water Campground. The camping was only ten dollars Canadian. I backed the camper in and we were setting up for the night when Willa suggested we try to grill some steaks. The weather was slightly threatening so I decided to unroll the awning for protection. It should be understood that not all camp grounds have picnic tables and sometimes if you want to “grill out’ you have to improvise. This involves finding a trashcan, turning the lid upside down on top of it for a “grill stand”. This works well as long as no one has thrown fish in the trash can recently.
I unlatched the awning and pulled on the strap to unroll it. We were parked beside a tree and the awning would only unroll a little over half way. I found a clean trashcan and made me a table and set the grill on top of it.
I got out my bean can for the missing leg on the back of the grill and I got out my vise grips so I could control the fire in the grill and I got my sardene can to prop the vice grips on and I got out my piece of wood to prop the lid of th grill on and I sat the complete mess up on the inverted top of a trash can. I hooked up the hose to the L.P. tank on the coach. All went well......... so far .......... The wind was puffing a little and the awning was flapping so I decided to stabilize the awning by tying the pull strap to the handle of the trashcan. The grill was heating nicely and I put on the steaks. Willa started fixing salad and some garlic bread in the coach while I tended the steaks. They were coming along nicely so I stepped inside to get some refreshment (beer). At the moment I stepped back out the door of the coach a puff of wind “ballooned” the awning up. It had just enough force to move the awning to make the awning “re roll itself”. With that the awning developed a mind of its own. The ‘rewind” spring took over and the awning shot back toward the coach like a loosed window shade. As the awning re rolled its self the “pull strap” was snatched up and inward. The trashcan did a double back flip and was yanked toward me like a Brama bull charging toward the side of the coach with the grill doing a half gainer with a full twist while the steaks went flying to parts unknown while I was dodging the flying trash can and all my ''stuff'' for the grill being propelled at me like a freight train and buckshot behind it. I dodged the trashcan but it smashed into the side of the coach. The grill was lying on its side in the grass with parts and pieces scatter around it The steaks were in the gravel parking lot in front of the coach.
“Honey, why are you hitting the coach with the trashcan”
“Why did you throw the steaks in the road”?
“Why are you setting the grass on fire with the grill burner”?
“Why is the grill laying on the ground”?
The answer I gave got me garlic bread and cold beans for supper and another night on the sofa …

The adventure continues heading for Alaska with
Willa and me ......
Seajay the sailor man

THE ROLLING BASEMENT

We headed north. The adventure continues ………..

When you have a tow vehicle behind your motor home that vehicle becomes a convent place to store “STUFF”. I use my Tracker as sort of a “rolling basement” and I use the back seat for storing things that I am too lazy to put back in the compartments of the coach. The further we go the more “STUFF” we seem to accumulate and the deeper the “STUFF” gets in the back seat of the Tracker. Here is a brief inventory of “STUFF” that we had accumulated in the back seat.
One satellite dish with stand and all assorted parts including 100 feet of coax.
One shovel (the handle is broken about half way down but it’s still handy)
One ax (the handle is loose and cracked and the blade is very dull but its nice for firewood as long is the wood is rotten.)
100 feet of nylon rope. (It was coiled up but it is now tangled with the satellite dish and the coax and the shovel, the ax, and the other “stuff”)
50 feet of garden hose with a flattened hose bib. (I can fix that later)
A pizza box with two slices of anchovy pizza left over in it. (I was gonna eat that later but it is now petrified)
Several sticks of firewood (left by another camper)
Six pieces of 2 x 8 lumber used for leveling the coach when we park when the jacks sometimes dont work..
Assorted other “STUFF” too numerous to mention and too valuable to throw away.
I eased the coach into the campground and we set up for the night.
“Honey, hook up the dish so I can watch Wheel of Fortune. You know how I love to watch that show and the only channel we can get on the antenna is in French about cow husbandry and I want to see “Wheel”.
“No problem darling, I’ll get it done in a few minutes”
I opened the passenger door and slid the seat forward. Somewhere under the “stuff” was the satellite dish. I leaned over and tried to lift the “stuff “ with my right hand so I could remove the satellite with my left hand. I squatted down beside the car for better leverage and as I got the “stuff” lifted the first “skeeter” bit me between my belt and the bottom of my shirt. He was one of those famous humming bird size “skeeters” that only takes a pint of blood. I swatted at him with my free hand, lost my balance and my feet slid under the Tracker and I wound up in the seated position with my right hand trapped under about fifty pounds of “stuff”. In disgust I laid my head on the seat trying to compose myself cursing under my breath. About then a fellow camper came by. He assumed that I was praying and he knelt beside me and bowed his head. I waited until he said Amen and left before I continued cursing under my breath. About then the “skeeters” came back in force and they used attack plan “B”. That is where they all alight at once and start eating. My right hand was still trapped and starting to bleed and I tried to fend them off with my left hand with little effect. About that time Willa opened the door of the coach.
“Who are you waving at dear”?
“Why are you working on the car”?
“You shouldn’t sit on the ground, you will get your clothes dirty”.
“You better hurry up because Wheel comes on in about five minutes”.
“Why are you cursing”?
The answer I gave cannot be printed so I will have to leave this part of the story out. It is safe to assume that her response was to slam the coach door hard enough to knock the lens off the outside light and to get me a night on the sofa and a can of cold beans for supper.
I eventually retrieved my right hand from under the ''Stuff'' and the scratches are healing nicely now. Willa is starting to talk to me again also ..

The adventure continues ...... going NORTH TO ALASKA
Seajay and Willa

BAD LUCK TRIP

BAD LUCK TRIP


Back in early September of last year Cathy Vogle our friend from California called and asked what we were doing. We replied very little of nothing and we were enjoying our selves. She suggested that we join she and Bill out in Vegas for gambling, eating and going to some shows and then going on a ''ramble'' for a month or so. Since we weren't busy, we agreed and we stuffed our ''stuff'' in the motor home and headed west. We were pulling Willas birthday gift on a trailer. It was a custom built convertible that I had ordered for her. I bought a trailer to haul the car so we could carry it with us on this trip. We left home full of expectations and the hope for much fun with two great people we know.
Things went pretty well until we got out in Texas when I noticed that the trailer was kinda sagging on one side. Upon close inspection I discovered that the weld at one of the critical joints on the tongue of the trailer was breaking letting the trailer get a ''sad look'' to it. This was resolved in ''Door Slam'' Texas for the small price of $125.00. We headed west again and our next stop at a rest area to ''tinkle the dogs'' proved interesting. We got back in the coach and I hit the starter and it just grunted at me. I tried again and it grunted again refusing to turn over. I said shux and hit the auxiliary switch for the booster batteries and it slowly came to life and started the engine.
''we got a bad starter''...... Willa looked on the map and called an American Auto parts store in ''Horse Shoe'' Texas..... Yep, they had a starter and they said I could change it in their parking lot. Luck was on our side except it had started raining and the ''further we went, the worser it go''. By the time we got to the auto parts store it was raining buckets.... I went inside and looked at the starter. $159.00 exchange. They loaned me a creeper and some tools that I didnt have and I did the ''deep dive'' under the coach in a wet parking lot . A couple hours later the deed was done and the new starter was on and working like a charm.
We headed west ….....
Since we were early to meet Cathy and Bill we decided to stop at Chico Canyon for a night or two. It was dark when we got to the campground and I noticed that we had no running lights on the coach or the trailer. We had no break lights on the trailer also........ I said shux again...
That evening Cathy called to give us some really bad news. It seems that that very day Bill had been killed in a hang gliding accident not five miles from their home. She asked if we could come on out to California and of course we said yes. I told her about the electrical problem but I assured her that I could get it fixed quickly and we would be on our way a.s.a.p.
The next morning I got lights on everything and we hit the trail for California......
We stayed with Cathy for a couple of weeks doing what we could to try to comfort her. It was a really tough time and I will not go into it now. She finally told us that she was OK and we should head back home. After a tearful parting we headed back toward Sams Town in Vegas. We had previously made reservations there and we decide to take a break and try to get our lives back together. We pulled into Sams Town and discovered that our house batteries were dead. I said shux again. We bought two new house batteries and all was well again. The next morning we discovered that Bobby Venton was appearing down in Lawton south of Vegas the coming weekend. I bought tickets for the show. Two hundred dollars …... The next day we unloaded the Luxxor, the car I had custom built for Willas birthday. We wanted to ''show off'' in Vegas in a truly beautiful car with a beautiful lady driving it. We headed downtown that evening and noticed that the car sat so low that it would scrub on the speed bumps. The next morning we headed out for some sight seeing down at ''Red Rock Canyon''. I noticed that the steering didnt feel just right but I didnt mention it to Willa. She finally asked me if the steering felt lose in the car and I said yes. Coming back fROm the canyon I pulled over to check to see if everything was ok. Willa got behind the wheel and I went out front to watch. At that time the steering failed in the car. Yep, you could turn the wheel and nothing happened. I said shux real loud. We were about 30 miles from the coach with no cell phone service. A nice guy stopped and offered assistance and he finally took us back to the coach. We fired up the coach and drove back to the disabled car. Getting it back on the trailer was a real trick. After much trial and error we got everything aligned and the car back on the trailer and tied down. We drove back to Sams Town......
With the car disabled we discovered that we had no practical way to get down to Lawton for the Bobby Venton show so we gave the tickets to a nice Canadian couple and we walked over to the casino for some gambling, drinking and eating and trying to forget all that had gone wrong on this trip.
I played Texas Holdum and won $500.00 dollars for getting a royal flush. This turned out to be the highlight of the trip.
The next morning we decided to head east toward home. Just outside of Denver I noticed that the transmission was not feeling right. Going down one of the long hills it stopped working all together. I coasted off the road and said shux real loud again.
We spent about eleven days behind a garage in Denver waiting on a new tranny to come in and be installed. We were luckey in that we had empty holding tanks and fresh water hook up and 15 amp electrical from the rear of the garage. We could dump ''gray water on the ground'' no problem but we were running out of propane because it was very cold and we could not use the electric heater. I said shux again. I resolved the problem by buying a 30 pound bottle of l.p. Gas and an adapter to hook it up to the tank on the coach. I got to looking at the tires on the coach and guess what …....... Yep, we had a flat tire on the inside duel. I said shux again and called road service.
About two weeks and four thousand dollars later we headed for North Carolina. The transmission was working fine and nothing could go wrong now.
WRONG....................
We got to Nashville Tenn. And my cousin gave us a call and said that at mile post 3 on I-40 there had been a land slide and the road was blocked and we would have to detour thru Mountain City, Tenn. And then back south to I-40 and then to home. I said ''SHUX'' REAL LOUD'' it didnt help...........
We finally got home and were darn glad to be there........
remember this …... the next time you feel like you are having problems just read this and you will see that you got no real problems at all ….


Seajay and Willa................... IT COULD HAVE BEEN WORSER BUT I DONT KNOW HOW...

I MET GOD AT MUCHO LAKE

Sometimes, when we are rough camping I like to get up early and go outside and just listen to nature. We were camped on Muncho Lake on the Alaska highway and I woke early one morning . I fixed coffee and got Gus our ''guard Pappilon'' dog and we went out side to greet the new day. It was cold in the morning and I could see steam rising off the cup of coffee. Gus roamed around and made ''shame shame'' on a bush and decided he would warmer on my lap than running around so he came over and hopped on my lap. I had taken a seat cushion out of the boat and was sitting on a large rock along side the lake. Just sitting and sipping coffee and watching the world wake up. This lake is un real in beauty. Clear, cold and just like God made it. The sun had not yet cleared the mountains to the east of us but it was a bright sunny day promised. Gus curled up and resumed his nap and I sat and sipped coffee and listen to the earth breathe.
Up on the Alaska Highway you will find the most quiet you have ever seen in one place. You can sit and listen to your heart beat in your chest …..... Yep, done that... As I sat there an eagle or some sort of large bird started making lazy circles in the clear blue sky and the sun popped over a mountain top and cast a warm shadow on me and Gus. I sat there and thought about my life. The good things He had given me, the opportunities He had given me to be a success in life. He never made it easy or hard he just made it available for me to do with as I saw fit. He gave me a wonderful wife for 43 years and then He decided He needed her more than I did. Later He sent me Willa to fill the void and make my life with living again. He gave me friends and more memories than three or folks probably have to remember. Sometimes it is good to sit and reflect on your life and remember the good things and good times. I will say this that He never made it too easy. Sometimes when I would get ''too big for my britches'' He would thump me on the head just to let me know He was still ''in charge''...As I sat there in the cold, quiet morning I could swear that I could feel Him standing behind me. Just out of reach but standing there. I dared not look around but I could feel His presence.
The squawk of the eagle brought me back to reality Gus wiggled in my lap as Willa stuck her head out of the coach and questions me as to why I was sitting on a rock, in the cold morning air with a worthless dog on my lap when she was all warm and soft and cuddly and needing a partner to help keep the bed warm......... hehehehehehhehe.
End of story …........
ps. Go to Alaska …Boon dock the road..Taste the fresh air..Drink the beauty....See the world like the big Man made it in the beginning........

Seajay the sailor man
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THE BICYCLE GUYS IN CANADA

We pulled into Muncho Lake campground going north on the Alaska highway. We got the first spot campsight and backed in. It was glorious there. We launched the boat and set up camp as usual. Me and Earl decided that there was some fishing that needed to be done so we hopped in the boat and headed south on the lake. I was amazed at the depth of the lake. Some places 50 feet off shore the lake was over 100 feet deep and as clear as vodka. We trolled up to the river inlet and picked up a few cut throat trout as we went. We fished the inlet and caught more and we caught grayling and some dollies and more trout. In southern terms, we had enough for a ''mess''...... (any southerner knows how many fish it takes to make a ''mess'' of fish for supper.)
As we headed back to the coach we went along the shore where the road is right along side of the lake. Pedaling along like they owned the world was two guys on bicycles. They had all their ''stuff'' hanging all over the bikes and were seemingly happy as ''two clams''.. We said howdy and where the heck are you guys going riding bicycles.
It turned out that they had left Chicago and were going to Fairbanks riding bicycles.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?...... Nope, they were riding to raise money for some charity in Chicago... They were going to camp in the same campground as me and Earl were camping in. We asked them to supper if they liked. They said they would ''think about it''.......... We made it on to the campsight and unloaded and cleaned the fish. The girls started cooking hush puppies and fries and making slaw and me and Earl went down to the campsight of the guys on bikes and extended the invite to supper again. One of the guys was asleep and the guy we talked to seemed hesitant about coming up to supper. He said it had been a couple days since their last shower because they were rough camping along the way. We said no problem, come on up. The girls are fixing a ''nanner puddin'' for desert. This got them ….. They were surviving on freeze dried stuff and granola bars and it had been days since they had some real food.
I told them we would eat about six .
When you cook fish it is like making love to a widow woman. You cant do just a little. The girls had a platter of fish cooked up along with fries, hushpuppies, and cold slaw. They had cooked some of the fish from a previous fishing expedition also. We did the buffet thing when the guys came up and everyone pigged out. The bike guys stuffed themselves and that was good because warmed over fish and left over love just aint fit for humans. I reminded them about the ''nanner puddin'' and they managed a couple of servings. We went outside and they told us of their adventures along the Alaska highway. They were actually camping on the side of the road when necessary. They would stay in a motel about every six or seven days so they could ''scrub up''. They replenished their supplies from food drops they had sent to various towns along the Alaska highway.
The next morning we invited them over for eggs, grits, country ham, biscuits, gravy, butter and jam and coffee of course....Again they pigged out and thanked us profusely for the food and the companion ship... We bid them good bye and said we would catch them in a few days... One guy told me that he had gained five pounds since he had met us..
Some time later we caught them again along the road. We stopped and they stopped and we had a beer and some talk. They were really nice guys and they are a page in my memory................
Seajay the sailor man
God bless our troops and bring them home soon and safe
God bless our vets …..ALL GAVE SOME … SOME GAVE ALL ..
ps. Earl and his lady had their own camper