Li'l Mama's Soulfood Cafe

I kept waiting to see Alan Funt walk out with a big grin on his face. For those of you too young to get it, he was the guy who popularzed the hidden camera gags.

My brother, Dale, and his wife, Donna, Vicki and I went to the 7th Avenue party to see the vintage cars and check out the booths and fun that goes on out there. And there were some very nice old cars and cool shops. There were also a lot of places to eat. One that looked interesting was a soul food place. The menu was great with all the stuff you would expect, greens, catfish, chicken, ribs, cornbread, mashed potatoes and gravy, and much more. So we decided to check it out.

The first thing that tipped us off that this would be one to remember was that the table was small and very unstable, and that there were a lot of people in the place but hardly anyone actually eating. There was no silverware on the table, no waitress asking for drink orders and a lot of people looking around with expectant faces. It was only about 6:00 in the evening on the night of a street party that was probably a local highlight and they (when we finally got to talk to a waitress) were already out of things. Not unusual stuff like Heineken (which they ran out of by our second round) but gravy. I found out about that after I had ordered and had already had an appetizer and a Corona. Now mashed potatoes and smothered chicken without gravy is ..... what?

While we were waiting people were leaving and orders were beginning to show up with no one to claim them. It got to be kind of a joke, "Any one want the pork chop with mashed potatoes and no gravy? I didn't order that but if you could throw some greens on there and a piece of cornbread I'll take it."

Dale's meal showed up first (after about an hour) but there was still no silverware so I went up to the register to ask for some. After talking to three different people I finally got one set. Now all we needed was our food and three more sets of silverware. They gave me two and I told them that we could make it work, you know, share the fork and the table next to us had a knife and no food so we could probably work something out.

When I got back to the table 10 minutes later (I'm not joking) Dale had already tried eating the beans and rice with his bare hands so he was quite relieved to see me. Our food arrived over the next 15 minutes and finally 5 minutes after that the other 2 pair of silverware. Donna was already holding her porkchop and gnawing away when the silverware showed up. Lucky for me eating chicken by hand is socially acceptable but no napkins was more of a challenge. We got to speculating that this place must be a front for a drug operation, you know, "Shit Carl, they's people out there orderin stuff. Anyone here what can fry chicken?" The food was good but it was hard to ignore the awful service. I have to go with half a star.

Hitting the Trails

It has been a little warmer than typical the past few days so the desert has greened up and the flowers are blooming. When Howard and I hiked Shaw Butte yesterday I took the camera to chronicle the lushness of it all. For those of you from normally green areas your reaction would probably be, "Haven't you guys ever seen leaves before?" but around here this is almost tropical. The picture above is an Ocotillo. Most of the time they don't look like that! Flowers were in bloom but most were just buds so when they all open it should look spectacular. There were even a few guys hang gliding off of the mountain.

Where has February gone?

I made an agreement with myself to at least post a couple of times a month but there hasn't been much to say. Counting down the school year and watching the political scene has been my only distraction from work but what is there to say about boredom and insanity?

Voting for a guy like McCain (well not like, but actually McCain) is boredom and it doesn't matter whether it's Clinton or Obama it's still insanity. Never have there been as over experienced and inexperienced a group with nothing to offer in the way of solutions to real (as opposed to imaginary problems) to choose from in my lifetime. Shall I drink the mineral oil or the hemlock?

But on a lighter note, the weather has been great and riding season (if perfect weather is the only thing that matters) is here! It's time to get some hiking miles under the belt, lose those extra pounds, and build up some stamina for the Canyon. Oh yeah!!!

See ya on the road or the trail.

What Happens in Vegas ....

My son, J, arrived Friday afternoon and got a short rest here in Phoenix before heading off to the electronics show in Las Vegas. I rode up with him in the tail of a Pacific storm that dumped a lot of rain. We experienced the rain too, along with the wind and cold. When J left Nashville it was 18 degrees so the little bit of piddly 40's out here was not quite as numbing but still uncomfortable. You see I told him that only a woose would use heated gear on the Las Vegas leg, so he didn't. No he was not a woose, but he did mention that it was cold without the electric socks. Since I didn't have those or my electric blanket I wouldn't know.

Highway 93 was pretty good and not terribly busy either, but it was definitely wet and windy. We rode in rain for at least half of the 300 miles. The stop at Hoover Dam was dry but windy and cold. While staying at the Flamingo J took a few vanity shots of me before we went out to dinner at a very nice restaurant with some of his colleagues. Some lady tried to pick me up but it didn't work out; she thought I was somebody else, and I was.
The next day when I drove back to Phoenix there was cloud cover and strong wind but hardly a drop of rain. I would have made it back in 5 hours but insisted on going the scenic route down I-15 about 30 miles past the turn-off I should have taken. Luckily the police have those turn-arounds for "Authorized Vehicles" that are also useful for tourists who don't wish to see Los Angeles. But even with the detour and accompanying swearing it only added another half-hour and allowed for some unnecessary sightseeing. Chock up another great trip.

Why Don't You Go For a Ride?

"I have some errands to run so why don't you go for a ride?" Vicki really said that, she's not a normal wife .... unless maybe her boyfriend was coming over and she had to get rid of me. Anyway it was the perfect way to end the year. I had been cooped up with some lousy cold for several days and it was clear but chilly out.

It started normally enough, north to Carefree on the KLR but then east to the Verde River and up some sand washes that meandered on and on. Next through Fountain Hills, northwest on 87 to the Saguaro Lake turn off, around the lake and along the river to Usury Pass, Brown Road, and the Apache Trail past Canyon Lake (which was nearly dry, repairing the dam I guess), Tortilla Flat and on to the dirt road into Fish Creek Canyon. I decided to go all the way to Apache Lake but found the turn-off to the Reavis Ranch trail head. The road up the mountain was worse than I remembered but passable, then back down and on to the lake.

After a quick turn-around at the lake I took the turn left from Usury Pass on to the Red Mountain Freeway (202) and then Scottsdale Road north to Lincoln and on home by way of 7th Ave. It was as close to a perfect ride as I have had in a long time. (A little over 225 miles)

Life in the People's Republic of Disneyland

Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. I love America. Our way of life provides a framework to make possible the attainment of all the good that life has to offer and way more than any one lifetime can accomplish. That's the challenge, what is of value and what amounts to an enjoyable distraction?

Maybe it is just a personal problem to have a concern for what is "the good" or "the right". But I can't help feeling that as we lay on our deathbeds there will be thoughts of what could have been or should have been. Not so much a fear and dread as a sorrow. The thought of having lived a life in Disneyland is how I visualize the issue.

I have no desire to live in some primitive land where "life is simple" and uncluttered by modernity. Having suffered a broken leg in a remote area of Arizona as a youngster I learned early that there are some very good things about "civilization". It's just the number and beauty of so many things that seems to crowd out the ability to discover life.

Some people believe that life consists of collecting experiences so trying everything imaginable becomes the goal. Others see altruism as the reason for life and are constantly helping others and feeling good about themselves. Some are convinced that education is the path and some that riches give peace. Sometimes I feel like Solomon and am convinced that "all is vanity". When a person's time is up, my time, what will be the defining evidence that I have lived?

Have a Happy XXXXXXXXXXXXX

It's that time of the year when we all celebrate XXXXXXXXX. Being a public school teacher the last 17 years I've seen the change. When I began teaching in 1991 we had Christmas parties and the student or two who didn't celebrate either had a day off or just put up with it. Now, of course, we can't have any party because someone somewhere might be offended no matter what the party may be for. It's really ok with me because what's the point of celebrating some generic holiday I don't believe in?

Today is a special day. It's XXXXXXXXXXX, as you all know, so we need to sing special songs, make decorations, do a special dance, and remember the importance of this new tradition. The school, luckily for us, is the state missionary outreach where we get all of our needs met. So please remember to visit the clinic, save the planet, conserve, recycle, feed the poor (or more likely, get fed), and don't forget to remind your parents to vote in the bond election to increase the money for all the good things we do.

But I will choose to celebrate the day that God did the one thing He could to make make us acceptable, bring His Son into the world to become the payment for our sins .... CHRISTMAS.

Dancing With One Leg

Thanksgiving is a time for introspection, evaluation, and settling on someone to thank. Vicki and I went to dinner with some friends last night and the conversation touched on why all of us hadn't been going to church lately.

It just so happened that I had been thinking about the hypocrisy issue the day before and it occurred to me that if I had to trust someone with something important I would pick a person who tried but sometimes failed (because they believed there was something called "right") not a person who didn't believe in right and wrong. I would choose the hypocrite. I know what you're thinking, but there are worse sins than hypocrisy. Give me a person with a weakness over one with no conscience.

I occasionally ask my students (I teach 5th grade) about things related to the Bible when we are discussing U.S. history, in particular, but they don't know much about it. If not "endowed by our Creator," then what is the modern yardstick? The latest public opinion poll, I guess. "Thou shalt not .... " is the bedrock of our civilization, beyond that is the whim of the moment.

In that job I get to see first-hand the effects of what used to be aberrant behavior, shacking up, drug use, lack of discipline, illiteracy, and much more. We are told over and over that these lifestyle choices are the new "normal". We can "beat the odds", but I don't think so. A person can dance with one leg but .... and there it is. We are attempting to balance on air.

Christian schools still exist in the United States and we are still free to attend a church of our choice. Imperfect people still have the opportunity to believe in and pursue what is right. Thank God because "without a vision the people perish".

Along Came a Spyder

I had a chance to try out the Can-Am Spyder the other day at the motorcycle show here in Glendale. It had plenty of acceleration and was fun in it's own way but I just like the feel of a motorcycle better.

At high speed (106mph is top) the steering response is almost frightening. It feels a lot like a quad. There is no counter-steering like a cycle so it goes the way you point it ..... very quickly. In fact I felt like I had to lean into the turn to keep from being thrown off. Well, I was taking corners kind of hard. Fun, but not my choice.

Grand Canyon by Nomad and Foot

It was a perfect day for a hike and a ride so I did both. It took the usual three and a half hours to ride up, four and a half to hike in and out of Indian Gardens and another three and a half to get back home. A full day and was it beautiful! I even met a couple from Massachusetts with more than familiar names, Jay and Sheila. Those are my eldest son's and his wife's names. The worst part was driving back into Phoenix through construction in the dark. It was a long day but it worked out well.

Route 66

Remember the movie Cars? We had a chance to step back in time to visit some of the towns abandoned because of I-40 displacing Route 66 in Arizona. It was strange to see things that I remember growing up with but have not thought of in a long while. See if you can spot some of them in the pictures. If not, maybe you aren't quite old enough. That's not a bad thing, mind you!

The little "town" of Hackberry had a store and garage crammed with memorabilia. You literally could not turn anywhere and not be overwhelmed with the nostalgia of it all. The garage in back could not be photographed in even a dozen pictures but here is one.

We saw several tour buses and one of them stopped in Seligman on Route 66. Two nice Australian women were so taken with the Nomad that they asked to be photographed with it. I'm sure that the one sitting on the bike would have jumped at a chance to ditch the bus.

There were several stretches of road with a series of signs like the old Burma Shave ads.

It's too fast (and small) to read but it says: He Tried To Cross, As Fast Train Neared, Death Didn't Draft Him, He Volunteered, Burma Shave.

Roughing It

Some friends invited me to come up to Flagstaff this weekend where they were going to camp. Now this couple, Jesse and Carol, take it all with them.

I loaded the KLR with the necessities and headed up at 4:00 but didn't arrive until after dark. It was a good thing that I couldn't see the road coming in because this is how it looked in the daylight.

The "camp" was already set up. There were two canopies, a pop-up trailer, a half dozen tents (one just for me!), tables, seating for a congregation, a blazing fire, full kitchen, a multitude of ice chests, and food cooking. Oh, not just "food", steaks.

They had thought of everything but I, of course, didn't. It was cooler than expected but I had forgotten to bring any hat at all.

There was this crazy wind that blew all night but not one structure came down. It was one of those winds you hear about on the ascent of Everest. One couple said that it literally smashed their tent flat, not permanently but with the fiberglass rods flexing all the way down and bouncing back up between gusts. My tent didn't do that but the sound was like trains roaring by on about a five minute schedule. Very strange.

On the way home Saturday afternoon I rode down Schnebly Hill Road partly to get off I-17 for a while because the crosswinds were brutal and partly to see the scenery. This is one of the roads they take on the Pink Jeep Tours, for those of you familiar to Sedona, so the views were postcard perfect!

The Journey

Why the attraction to times and places inhabited by ghosts? On an iron horse it is possible to travel to a distant time where old men lived and died. Looking at the towns they built and trying to recapture their dreams makes it seem almost as though we knew them. But that is just imagination, I think.

Visiting the reclaimed mining towns examining the buildings rejuvenated for the benefit of us who travel through gives a sense of peace. It is visiting the family sepulcher and placing your fingers on the tombstones remembering a long lost phantom relative. Is it real or an illusion?

We had to have come from somewhere.

Memorial Ride for Officer Cortez

On the 18th of August Cyclerides and Channel 3 had a memorial ride to raise money for the widow of a Phoenix Police officer, George Cortez, who was killed in the line of duty on the same day that the two news channel helicopters crashed. Here is a link to a very good music video about the ride.

Reading on the Rim

I was supposed to take a breakfast ride with Bob and guys from his church to Saguaro Lake on Saturday morning but he called me Friday night and said that he couldn't make it. There was this low lying metal bar across his path that he couldn't see because of the hat he was wearing as he was looking down watching where he was pushing the wheelbarrow. You can figure out the rest, a brutal headache from the whack across the bridge of the nose. But his injury was no reason for me to be penalized.

Riding to Saguaro Lake may have been fun with guys I knew but it is also a ride in the desert ... in Arizona ... in the summer. Given a choice, which is exactly what I had, it seemed to me that the Rim was much more to my liking. So I grabbed a bag of snacks, some soda, water, and, believe it or not, a Harry Potter book and roared off on the KLR. (yes, I finished the repairs)

I sped up to Payson by 6:30, had my traditional cup of Hazelnut coffee from the Circle K, refueled, and headed for Pine. After missing the turn-off for the Rim Road twice I finally found the cool pine vistas that I had longed for. The gravel road was like riding on marbles but that's why I took the KLR and not the Nomad. Finally the view was perfect and it was time to stop.

I pulled out my book (the latest one), some sunflower seeds and a ginger ale and read two chapters. Harry Potter books are just fun to read especially when you know that when you are tired of reading it's time to fire up the bike and do some more sight seeing. The temperature was low to mid seventies, the air smelled of pine, and I had the place almost to myself.

The Rim Road is about 40 miles of breathtaking views before you get to the other highway. By the time I reached the end the traffic had picked up and I knew it was time to head for the pit before it got unbearable in the desert. It was a quick drive to Payson. (pictures from cyclerides.com)

I decided to grab a burger at McDonald's before hitting the road so I made the mistake of removing my ear plugs as I walked in. Oh my goodness! BIG MISTAKE. The echo of kids screaming on the indoor playground was reminiscent of my years of working on F-4 fighters with 400 cycle turbine generators running. It was so loud that I couldn't wait to get back on the KLR. Speeding along on curvy mountain roads listening to the buzz of the little 650 thumper and absorbing the pounding of wind was down-right calming after that!

I got back home at 2:00. It was hot but an afternoon nap made up for all of that.

Snow Bowl by Way of Payson

This Saturday ride was a good chance to get out of the heat. A couple of guys I work with wanted to see parts of the state that they hadn't seen so the travel guide (that's me) decided on a road I hadn't been on for twenty years or so. We went through Payson, Strawberry, and Happy Jack on our way to Flagstaff. Neither had seen Oak Creek Canyon so we passed through it on our way to Sedona and took I-17 back to Phoenix.

It sounds like a fairly short trip but with all the stops for gas, food. and sore butts (not mine), it took about 11 hours. The variety of terrains and climates always amazes me, especially when I get back into the desert and ask myself why the hell I live in Phoenix instead of one of the more temperate locations in the state.

We had breakfast at the Knotty Pine in Prescott with scads of others riders, and lunch at the Snow Bowl with no other riders. With all the bikes on the road today I can't figure why NONE were up there. Well, it could have been the rain.

We rode in fairly heavy rain (without raingear) out of Flagstaff and about one-fourth of the way down Oak Creek Canyon but it was clear from Slide Rock on. The raingear was totally unnecessary because we spent the next few hours in the "drier". I immediately missed the rain when we got to Sedona. The temperature went from VERY NICE to hot and HOTTER by the time we got to Black Canyon City.

Another great ride!

OOps

Wednesday morning at about 5:00 I woke up and decided that it would be a perfect day for a ride. And it was, low 80's, overcast, no immediate rain going on, and a few free hours. After the usual ride to Carefree and the morning cup of coffee I decided to ride on out to Bartlett Lake, or at least the rest area. On the way there the sign marking the dirt road to Horseshoe Lake caught my eye and I decided to take it.

It didn't really concern me that it has rained all day yesterday until I saw that the "road" was mostly a sand wash strewn with boulders. I called Vicki to fill her in on my little adventure and then proceeded, after having negotiated the most difficult parts of the road, to crash. As I was sliding along I noted that the bike did indeed slide faster than my body. And I followed my advice to let go of it since it is not in one's interest to spend more time sliding than necessary. I only had a few scrapes (on my left knee - because of wearing levis not leathers) thanks to the protective jacket, helmet and boots.

After picking my self up I turned the key off, lifted the bike and assessed the damage. Everything looked ok except for that rather large piece of metal lying in the road. It was the rear brake lever. Ok, that's livable, I thought. Tires ok, no fluids leaking, handlebars slightly bent, other levers ok ...... hmmm the throttle sticks. I started it and found that the gears were all ok. It was rideable.

I tried to call Vicki to let her know of my plight but there was no service. I had water and a ride but not a lot of confidence that I could negotiate that road out. As it happened climbing out of the canyon was much easier than descending into it.

On the way home I rode it to the Kawasaki dealer (they were kind of amazed) and put a few parts on order. In 4 or 5 working days I can have the KLR ready again.

The Loooonnnng Trip

Whew! It was about 6,000 miles and covered 15 states. Another 350 miles and it would have been coast to coast, but California was not in the itinerary.

Vicki and I left June 27th at 5:00 in the morning and ended it July 21st at 12:30 pm. There was so much sandwiched between those dates that it seems like several vacations. Each locale was so varied. The first day was spent in the mountains of Arizona, the VLA (Very Large Array) in New Mexico, Lincoln County made infamous by Billy the Kid and others who participated in the Lincoln County War , and finally Roswell of alien spacecraft fame. And that was just day one (571 miles).

While crossing Texas we got soaked in Wichita Falls and spent the night in a little town just down the road. That was the second day, and it was good (404 miles).

Finally escaping the huge state of Texas we crossed over to Arkansas at Texarkana, crossed the Mississippi River and spent the night in Greenville, Mississippi, home of rust colored tap water, and a cute little waitress from New Orleans who thought we had unusual accents (being from Arizona and all). (454 miles)

And on the fourth day we met J on the Natchez Trace just north of Tupelo, Mississippi. By this time I was in a state of confusion because the states were beginning to look alike. Texas, Arkansas, Mississippi, and finally Tennessee are all green, full of rolling hills, streams, farms, little towns with cows, and roadkill.

We got into Nashville (362 miles) on a Saturday just as J's wife Sheila was leaving (town). It was great getting a few days to just sit and relax. 1800 miles riding double was the longest I had ever done ..... but it was only the beginning.

J and I rushed around getting our bikes ready to trailer to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. I needed a new rear tire (it was showing the cords) and J needed both (his cords were also showing but he hadn't worn through the steel belt yet, a real plus). After changing his tires the repairman said, "Oh, by the way, don't use your rear break, you don't have one." They didn't happen to have any disk pads so we had to find a shop that did since we were leaving that night. For all the details about that portion of the trip visit J's blog. (782 miles back only)

Nine of us stayed in a three story beach house we rented in Southern Shores, North Carolina. (Ric, Vicki, Alana, J, Peggy, Jackie, Sheila, Wally and Brad) It was a great week and again I defer to J's blog for pictures of most of what we did. He was kind enough to not show how well I handle being on the ocean.

After a day of rest in Nashville it was time to start wearing out that new rear tire. Our next stop was a visit to Vicki's brother, Dick, and his wife, Jan, in Omaha, Nebraska. We consulted the map and found that it was a trip too far (745 miles) so we broke it into 2 days staying the first night in a little town 50 miles shy of Kansas City. The next day we only had to put in 200 miles so that we had more time to visit in Omaha. It was great to see them, their new grandchild and in laws. The parents were all working and, consequently, unavailable, as it should be. Jan fixed an amazing dinner and Dick got up early in the morning to prepare breakfast. It was like dieing and going to heaven, assuming we still eat there. Thanks again!

We opted to do the marathon thing again (565 miles) and get to the Black Hills of South Dakota to stay in a retro place called the Rocket Motel in Custer, SD. All went well until we got to Highway 385. The dark clouds ahead looked ominous and for good reason, it was going to be a bad one! As we were suiting up in our rain gear a guy at the station said, "Gee, I hope you don't run into hail." As it turned out, not only did we run into hail, it ran into us. The rain came down so hard that for about a minute or two I nearly lost sight of the lines on the road while only moving at 30 mph. And it was daytime! And, oh, the hail and wind. A helmet is a very good thing judging by the sound of the hail smashing into it. We did get to feel the actual sting and later gaze at the resultant bruises. Luckily, because it was more a matter of laziness and not expert planning, we only experienced the pain in our hands and legs because we put the rain suits over our padded jackets and hadn't gone to the trouble of taking them off. I spoke to another rider at the Rocket who had experienced the same storm without a helmet (he and his wife are Harley riders). Hey look, I'm not implying anything! Fortunately they crowded into an outhouse at a rest stop before getting smacked in the head, but his gas cover sustained a dent ... but that was all.

The next day was absolutely great. The weather was cool while we were in the Black Hills and only slightly warmer at the Devil's Tower in Wyoming. We hopped off at Mt. Rushmore, waved at the crews setting up for Bike Week in Sturgis, cruised through Spearfish Canyon, dodged deer in Custer National Park, gazed upon Crazy Horse, tried to figure out the attraction of Deadwood, and slept in the most comfortable beds in South Dakota at the Rocket.

We left Custer slowly because of the deer all along and on the road at 5:15 in the morning. Our destination was Moab, Utah to spend the night. During cooler times of the year bicyclists crowd Arches National Park but in July it is less frequented although just as beautiful. (717 miles)







After that very long day in saddle it was time for some Mexican food at a local restaurant, a Corona for me and a Heineken for Vicki, followed by a good night's sleep.

We arose before light knowing that it would not be cooler in Phoenix the more we dallied. As it was our ETA was 2:00, certainly not an exciting prospect. So we flew believing it possible to go fast enough that we could arrive before the hour hand. Inside Arizona the majestic rock formations outside Tuba City left us in awe. Just 200 miles from Phoenix we realized the time had changed again. The Nomad was winning the race. We arrived at home at 12:30, in reality erasing 30 minutes from the ETA. (468 miles)

It was a trip we will never forget.

Top of the Rim

I decided on another practice run, this time through Payson to the top of the Mogollon Rim, to check out the Nomad. It was an overcast day with a 30% chance of rain and an expected high of only 95 degrees in Phoenix. I left at about 6:00 and got into Payson around 7:30, refueled and bought my morning cup of coffee.

Since it was a Monday the traffic was very light and the camping areas were about half full. Before getting into Payson I had to put on a long sleeved shirt under my jacket. Payson is over 5,000 feet in elevation and the ranger station on the top of the rim was 7,500 feet so the shirt stayed on. It was a beautiful trip out the Rim Road (General Crook Trail) to Woods Canyon Lake and the Nomad performed flawlessly. There are a little over 2 weeks left for the real thing. Can't wait!

Practice Run

I got the Nomad out of the shop yesterday and decided to give it a check ride. Oh not a little run around the block, a real check ride. It's a good thing too.

Vicki and I rode the circuit through Sedona, Jerome, Prescott, and Wickenburg which is about 250 miles. It covers elevations from 1300 feet to over 6,000, desert and mountain terrains, long freeway straight-aways, and tight curvy mountain roads. The brakes that I just had replaced need some work. The back ones were screaming like a baby, but not always.

For some reason, probably GLOBAL WARMING (or proximity to the vortex in Sedona), it was a cold day in hell around here. We had to wear log sleeved shirts under our jackets on the ride and didn't remove them until about noon. While we were getting ready to leave Vicki complained about being too warm but once we got moving she was searching for her gloves. I was even colder than I expected but the uncontrollable shaking of my body helped a lot.

Sedona was Sedona, beautiful. The highway coming in was torn up but the speed limit is low anyway so it was not an inconvenience. Thankfully it was Thursday. We stopped for gas but headed to Prescott by way of Jerome. The narrow twist streets in that town are certainly not SUV friendly. I had never taken the Nomad on the dragonesque road between Jerome and Prescott with or without a passenger so I was apprehensive. But Vicki did well and seldom screamed.

The weather was perfect but the air was not clear. The cold front that blew in kicked up a bunch of dust. It was still a little windy in places. The trip down through Peeples Valley and Yarnell Hill was fun with a passenger. We got back back by 12:30 and had a great time.