Ready Ryders: Looking for Adventure

By R.M. Singhose

Have you ever dreamed of rolling across the country on a Harley-Davidson motorcycle? Many people have, but how many have the guts to really do it? In Ready Ryders, six best friends set out to make a far-off dream a reality as they tour Oregon and the Midwest on the backs of rollicking hogs. However, even the best-laid plans can go wrong.

In the story Bikers Take on the McKenzie, the Ready Ryder gang goes white-water rafting. But theres a tiny problem: one of them cant swim. In The Wedding, step inside a true redneck wedding on a side-splitting adventure to eastern Oregon. Its not all laughs on the highway, though; some parts of the trip are emotional, life-changing, and completely unexpected.

Come along for the engine-revving ride with six friends whose lives change forever on one cross-country trip. Through the epic Sturgis, South Dakota, rally with over a million riders, to camping by a forest fire in Oregon, the camaraderie never stops. Although the character names have been changed, all the stories are true, as are the friendships developed, memories made, and Harley bikes broken in!

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 2, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462040568

R.M. Singhose

R.M. Singhose was first introduced to the Harley-Davidson culture in 1966. Her husband, Jim, began riding in 1952. Since retirement they have ridden over 100,000 miles across North America, camping and meeting fascinating people. Everything in her books is based on her daily road journal. She likes to say, “These stories are so crazy, I couldn’t make them up if I tried.”

Book preview

Contents

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A LITTLE BACKGROUND

BIKERS TAKE ON THE MCKENZIE RIVER

FRISSEL SIZZLE

TRIXIE’S BIKE ON A TRAILER?

STURGIS 2000

THE WEDDING

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rose Singhose stepped aboard her first Harley-Davidson motorcycle in the fall of 1966. That fateful day was to change her life forever. The rumble and power of the bikes engine entered her blood stream and there was no going back.

James bought his first Harley-Davidson in 1952 at the tender age of seventeen. It was a 1947 45. It wasn’t long after he turned ‘of age’ that he gained the reputation of riding his bike into a local bar and demanding they serve him a beer. He skittered back out the door and wisely stayed out of town until the bar owner cooled down.

After some tumultuous years with the wrong biker, Rose was blessed with finding the right one. Her mother spotted an ad in a small rural magazine and talked her into answering it. She met her husband, James, the end of June of 1971. They went out on three whirlwind dates and married at the end of August that same year.

As Jim likes to point out, gas cost two bits a gallon and stamps cost eight cents back then, they lived a hundred fifty miles from each other and couldn’t afford to mess around.

Jim and Rose have been constant traveling companions and best friends since the day they married. They have lived in the Cottage Grove area for most of their lives.

This book is dedicated to James Earl Radway who began riding Harley-Davidson motorcycles before he was born and whose email name Gramma stole for the title of this series.

A very special thank you goes to our riding friends who have gotten into the situations I’ve written about in my stories. There are too many of you to name but know we love each and every one of you and appreciate your being as crazy and impetuous as we are.

If your adventures with us didn’t make it into this book, don’t worry, I’ll get ya later. That’s not a threat, it’s a promise.

ROSIE

WV_at_Cow_Chip_Boogie_1999-1.jpg

Cow Chip Boogie 1999 Photographer Rick Maish

A LITTLE BACKGROUND

Police definition of a gang: Any group of two or more bikers, all to be considered armed and viewed as dangerous.

Bikers definition of a gang: Any group of two or more bikers, some harmless, some not; all to be judged on their individual actions and viewed as a group of people having a good time and enjoying their lives. 99 % of these riders are reasonably law-abiding citizens. Please note the emphasis on the word, reasonably.

1% ers a small faction of biker clubs who do not worry overmuch about which side of the law they are on. These guys not only give all bikers a bad reputation, they provide the excitement many of the other 99% thrive on.

THE READY RYDER GANG (card carrying members of the 99% faction)

MEMBERS OF THE GANG

BIG JIM: Leader of the pack. Six foot seven and two hundred eighty pounds of pure muscle. His unruly, black hair hangs to his shoulders; no matter how hard he tries, he always appears to have a serious case of bed head. Thick, black eyebrows over a craggy brow nearly meet in the middle and accentuate his chocolate brown eyes. A jagged scar, obtained in a bar fight, runs from his left eye, down through his dimple and ends under his chin. It has a tendency to stand out and throb when he’s agitated.

He shaves most days but has a touch of five o’clock shadow by noon, which, coupled with his olive complexion, gives him a swarthy look. An unfortunate encounter with a cue stick left his nose with a small, permanent hump at the bridge.

The words Harley Davidson are tattooed in script running down the length of his left arm. A wicked looking eagle with its beak open and talons poised for fight, covers his right bicep. He would have made a great pirate in earlier days. He’s a man with a ready sense of humor and slow to anger but if he’s provoked, everyone had better scatter fast.

TRIXIE: Paired with Big Jim, she has an enduring love for her ‘big guy’. Standing a full five feet tall with her motorcycle boots on, she has a luxurious head of butt length, deep auburn hair. She is amply endowed with a Dolly Parton figure. Big Jim says it’s a good thing he has big hands as he considers more than a handful wasteful.

Her flashing green eyes are nearly always sparkling with the humor she sees in the world around her. She has a ready laugh and tends to burst out when no one else can see what’s so funny. With her red hair and French ancestry, she can be pretty quick to anger but she’s also quick to forgive those she loves. Cause harm to her loved ones and she will never forget it. Lesser women had tried to move in on her guy and found that her wrath was a thing to be avoided at all costs.

Trixie is fond of dangling earrings, blue jeans and her Harley T-shirts. A new T-shirt or one from a favorite rally is her idea of dressing up for an occasion. Play some Credence Clearwater or Steppenwolf and she’s on her feet and ready to dance. She sports a delicate red rose tattoo on her right boob that hides a wicked eye gleaming in the center and sports thorns with tiny drops of blood dripping off the tips.

BILLY: At six foot, Billy is the shortest man in the group. His biceps bulge and ripple; he’s been known to lift a car or bike and hold it while someone else changes a tire. Billy is covered in black, curly hair from head to toe. His black eyes shine from beneath his long, corkscrew bangs. He wears a headband made from an old Sturgis bandana to keep it out of his eyes.

Billy likes his women and doesn’t hesitate to state his mind as to what he likes about them. He’s quick to tell everyone he’s a boob man but that he also goes for long legs, long hair and tight butts. Yep, Billy likes his women, much to the consternation of his main squeeze, Sandy.

SANDY: A long, tall, five foot ten beauty who fits all the criteria that Billy requires. She has straight, black hair that reaches to the backs of her knees. Her sharp black eyes tend to survey the world around her with a cool reserve that some mistake for snobbishness. High cheekbones show a strong hint of her Cherokee background. More than once, she’s been asked if she was related to Cher. She always says no but with a hint of mystery that leaves the questioner still wondering.

Her voice is as deep as any man’s but would never be mistaken as being masculine. She speaks low and slow with a sexiness that oozes from her pores. Sandy is not real popular amongst other women but for those who take the time to get to know her; they find a true friend who is totally loyal and great fun to be around. Trixie and Candy both love her like a sister and would defend her to the death.

SNAKE: A lithe, six foot four, Snake is a work of art in motion. His love for the reptiles is exhibited in tattoos that cover his entire body. His largest and most impressive tattoo is a full sized python depicted in vivid, red, green and yellow colors. The python is draped across his shoulders with the head running down one thigh and the tail curling around the opposite ankle. A diamond back rattlesnake is coiled around his right arm with the head ending on the top of his right hand. The fangs are tattooed on two of his fingers so that when he reaches to shake hands with someone, it appears as if they are about to be bitten.

His bike is covered with knots of colorful, writhing snakes, many of which have fair maidens peeking out from the coils.

Snake can’t get enough of the shock factor and loves the expressions he sees on non-snake lovers’ faces.

CANDY: When Candy first met Snake, she was repulsed by his tattoos. Snakes were absolutely her least favorite animals in the world. Once she got to know him, she changed her mind about that entirely and is now nearly as fond of them as he is. She claims they are cuddly, a fact she has yet to convince Trixie of.

With her long, flaxen hair and brilliant, sapphire blue eyes, Candy makes an imposing figure. Put that together with her ample breasts complete with nipple rings, long, slender legs, eighteen-inch waist and five foot eight stature; she’s a vision that the men have a hard time looking away from.

As if the guys needed any incentive to check out her cleavage, she has a tiny snake tattooed there peeking out at the world; its little tongue appears to flicker when she moves. A small, green snake caricature is curled around her right ankle. It has a smile and tiny eyebrows float above its eyes. Even Trixie thinks it’s cute.

Like the rest of the gang, Candy has a ready smile and is open to the fun life has to offer.

All of the characters are tied to each other and their bikes for life. The women all ride their own bikes and seldom will be seen mounted behind their guys. They found their independence long ago and would never go back. They frolic through the following stories in search of fun and adventure and never fail to find it.

Mount up and let’s get this show on the road… Rosie

BIKERS TAKE ON THE MCKENZIE RIVER

The six Harley riders had spent the day exploring the wilderness area around Cougar Reservoir and were now relaxing in a secluded hot spring located up Box Canyon just a few miles from Oakridge. They’d made camp between the pool and a lively stream known as Wall Creek.

Except for the meager light from their campfire and a myriad of stars in the sky, it was pitch black. The only sounds were the murmur of the stream, an occasional pop from the fire and the ripple of the pool when someone shifted position.

Billy chuckled.

What’s so funny? asked Candy.

I was just thinking how much more fun it is to figure out who we are sitting next to by feel rather than sight.

Oh you, exclaimed Candy as she splashed him.

Their bikes were hidden from the road about a mile back through deep woods. The game trail they’d followed to get to the hot spring was narrow and strewn with boulders, tree roots and huge logs that they’d had to crawl over and around. Animal tracks in the mud of the creek bank indicated a lot of wildlife activity right where they’d pitched their tents.

Do you guys think there are any bears or cougars around here? asked Trixie nervously.

Of course not, Trix, that’s why they named that lake we rode around today Cougar Reservoir, laughed Big Jim.

Yeah, mused Trixie.

Hoo boy, Jim, it’s going to be a long night. You’d better keep a tight hold on her so the bears can’t drag her out of your tent, laughed Snake.

The guys can put their boots outside the tents. Cougars don’t bother skunks and I bet they won’t go near those boots either, giggled Sandy.

Candy was shaking with laughter. Good grief, Trixie, how did you ride and camp in British Columbia with you being such a chicken liver?

We camped in real campgrounds. Not so far from at least an outhouse to hide in like we are here. I don’t recall saying I enjoyed the bears in our camps either, said Trixie defensively.

Man, it doesn’t get any better than this, sighed Big Jim as he stretched luxuriously in the hot spring.

Watch those big feet of yours, complained Candy.

Did you guys spot the hippie chicks sunning themselves on those big boulders overlooking the reservoir? When they heard our Harleys roaring by, they were grabbing their clothes like they thought the Hounds of Hell were descending on them. Billy laughed as he eased down further into the hot water.

How about those rafters going down the river? I got to raft the Deschutes one time and it was a real blast. Let’s do the McKenzie, suggested Sandy.

Everyone thought that was a great idea. Everyone except Trixie, but after the ribbing she’d taken about bears and cougars, she wasn’t about to mention the fact that she couldn’t swim and had a very real fear of deep water. It was decided that the next weekend would see this group riding the white waters of the McKenzie River.

* * *

Trixie spent a nervous week thinking about the upcoming trip. In her heart she knew this was probably one of the dumbest things she’d ever agreed to do. The night before the trip she tossed and turned until Big Jim finally asked her what was wrong.

Fer crying out loud, Trix, what’s the matter with you? Can’t you sleep? he grumbled.

What the heck business do I have going out on a river in a teeny rubber raft with huge rocks and white water to toss us around like a cat playing with a ball. I’ve seen those National Geographic shows. Remember that one where they were rafting down the Colorado River? You know I can’t swim; what if I fall out of the raft? I’ll sink like a lead weight, she lamented.

The McKenzie is nothing like the Colorado. I promise I won’t let you drown. We’re going to have a great time. Big Jim pulled her close and rubbed her back. You worry too much.

Easy for you to say, you know how to swim, she mumbled into her pillow.

* * *

Saturday arrived crisp and clear. A few white, puffball clouds were scattered across a sapphire blue sky. Fall had come to the high country in all its glory. Vine maples and alders alongside the road created tunnels of brilliant red and sparkling gold for the riders to pass through as they rode to Helfrich Landing to meet their river guide.

When they pulled in to the landing, their guide was waiting for them. At least they assumed he was their guide. The guy was parked in a white van with the rafting company’s logo on the doors. However, he just sat there looking at them as they circled their Harleys around his van.

Big Jim stopped alongside the driver’s door and motioned for the guy to roll down his window.

He cranked it down about two inches, What do you want? He asked as he craned his neck upwards to speak through the gap at the top of the window.

Hey, man, aren’t you a river guide? asked Jim.

Are you the folks who want to go rafting today? inquired the guide. The tremor in his voice and doubtful look in his eyes told the bikers loud and clear that he was desperately hoping they were not his guests for the day.

Heck yeah, let’s get this show on the road, they all chorused, shooting those hopes right out of the water.

The guide gingerly stepped down out of his van. He was a small man, about five foot six with dishwater blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He was wearing kayaker shorts, black with a bright yellow stripe down the sides, bright blue rubber swim shoes, a red T-shirt and a camouflage safari hat secured by a chin string. If he weighed in at more than a hundred pounds sopping wet, it would be a surprise. Uh, I’m Dan, he said uncertainly.

Well, hey Dan, I’m Trixie. Dan looked her up and down as she stood in front of him unfastening her helmet. She stood about five feet short with her boots on and was a tiny woman. He didn’t think she’d be giving him any trouble. As she took off her helmet and shook out her long, red hair the wicked grin she was sending his way made him rethink his estimation.

Big Jim leaned down and offered his hand to Dan. At six foot seven and two hundred eighty pounds of pure muscle, Jim was considered by some to be a wee bit intimidating. A scar ran from his left eye down through his dimple and ended under his chin, the result of a bar fight some years ago. When he smiled, the scar deepened and gave him a sinister expression comparable to a grizzly bear grinning while contemplating a hiker as snack food.

Dan timidly shook hands. When he didn’t experience any pain on doing so, he relaxed a notch.

Trixie’s my ol’ lady. She can’t swim but I told her you had real good life jackets. That’s right, isn’t it?

The other Ryders looked at Trixie incredulously. You can’t swim any? asked Candy.

I sink like a rock, was her dismal reply as she hung her head in embarrassment.

You mean to say those 38C water wings you’ve got won’t keep you afloat? remarked Billy.

Lay off, Billy, warned Sandy.

Snake stepped forward to introduce himself. I’m Snake, he nodded his head towards Trixie, Dan here will take good care of you Trixie, won’t you Dan. This was more of a command than a question as Snake held out his hand. Then he tipped his head towards Candy. This here’s my woman, Candy.

Dan tensed up again when he spied the tattoo of a rattlesnake coiled around the proffered hand.

Uh, you guys don’t plan on wearing those heavy leather clothes on the raft do you? asked Dan.

Of course not; do we look like a bunch of idiots? We’ll leave our gear in your Van, said Big Jim as he began unzipping his chaps and jacket.

Candy peeled down to her tank top. Her long, blond hair curled provocatively around her breasts. Nipple rings strained against the cotton fabric and Whitewater Dan was having a tough time keeping his eyes off them.

Sandy shook out her straight, black hair that fell luxuriously down to her waist. She stood five ten and was all legs. The cutoffs she wore did nothing to hide that fact.

Billy stripped down to cutoffs too. He was the only one of the gang without any tattoos or piercings. He liked to say he was too hairy for that stuff and no one could argue with that logic.

Trixie liked to tease that hugging Billy naked would be akin to hugging a big cuddly gorilla. Sandy would agree, but insist that Billy was real handy to have around on a cold night.

When Snake peeled off his shirt he exposed the tattoo of a full sized python draped around his shoulders. Its red, green and yellow coils circled his body and ran down his sides. The head peeked out one leg of his shorts, its black eyes glittering, the tongue flickering; the tail ran down his other leg and ended in a coil around his ankle.

Holy cow, breathed Dan. His eyes bugged out and his mouth dropped open as he observed the most incredible tattoo he’d ever encountered. It was obvious that Dan had never been exposed to such exquisite artistry before.

The rest of the gang watched his reaction with glee. They enjoyed the shock factor that Snake effected every bit as much as Snake himself.

Locks were brought out and bikes chained together before they all climbed into the van for the journey upriver.

As he drove, Dan explained what they should expect on their rafting trip. He was relieved when he found out that Sandy had experience but he was concerned about the rest of the group, especially Trixie, the rock lady. He was also very concerned about what would happen to him if he should lose one of them