High School 45th Reunion-SS1000 Attempt

BACKGROUND STORY

I graduated from Chatsworth High School (CHS) - the Chancellors, in Chatsworth California in June '64....officially making me an "old fart" of the 4-point-5th degree. This reunion was not Chatsworth High School, so you may ask "Why in the hell was I going to the 45th reunion of the Hunters - Canoga Park High School (CPHS)?" Were there more good looking girls there in 1963/64, is the booze better at this reunion, was it cheaper....probably all of the above but NOT the reason. CHS was a new school and ours was the first class....a really small class...about 230----small by LA High School standards. CHS was formed from students transferred from 3 or 4 nearby schools and I was one of the transfers. It wasn't something anyone wanted to do in those days....start a new High School but choice was not part of the equation....if you were over the line on the map....you transferred. As time passed, the CHS reunions faded away because the class was so small, eventually resulting in combined reunions with classes before and after....all managed very efficiently and tastelessly by a Reunion planning company. Not my idea of a great reunion concept and probably why they eventually failed and CHS Class of S'64 is no more.

Below is me in 1964, most of us burn pictures like this but mine is forever in a yearbook!

ANYWAY, the Hunter's at CPHS are still going strong and they do their own reunions....very personal, somewhat quirky, with all of the "cliques" intact...don't-cha-love-it, and more memories to share than you can imagine. They also still consider us "lost waifs" as part of their Class.........we are without a living breathing class (not Classless, or lacking Class--if you please---just a lost Class without a home). So, I have been included at the last two reunions (40 and 45) and welcomed with hugs as though I never left them in 1963.

This year the Hunter Reunion was generously hosted by George and June Boskovich at their beautiful, expansive home in Camarillo, California. Donna Holden, with whom I had some prior contact for an MS150 bicycle ride sponsorship was the main organizer and with her gentle persuasion I decided to turn it into a long distance Harley ride over a long weekend. It is 1,600 miles from Smithfield, UT to Camarillo, CA, most of it high plains and desert Interstate highway riding. I planned to leave on a Friday at midday, stop in St George, UT for the night, then ride across the Mojave desert early Saturday in time for the reunion that evening at 5 pm. The return would involve another attempt at an Iron Butt 1,000 mile ride (which I failed at in June). Haller, my Marine Corps buddy decided to join me for the ride, and the IB attempt.

Discussions with other CPHS alums reminded us that several were Marines I had gone through Basic Training with in 1965. I prodded them and they agreed to attend the Reunion and make it into a quasi-Platoon 148 Reunion as well.

Haller showed up on his new Kawasaki Concours 14 on Thursday....looking thrashed after only 600 miles....we had 1,800 miles in three days to go. He said he didn't think he would do the Iron Butt but would stick with me for the ride down. We left about noon on Friday and on the way I did a short "service call" at a landfill in Layton, UT where one of my weather station customers was having a problem....30 minute stop, then on the road to St George. We spent the night on sleeping bags in my Mother's vacant house, then hit the road at about 6 am for California. Down I-15, to the Pearblossum Highway, across on Route 14, eventually to the Coast at Ventura and into Camarillo at about 3 pm. We had quick showers, were met by two Marines (Greg Erikson and Bill Hutton), then off to the party.

George and June's home was spectacular. Valet parking, open bar, Bar-B-Que dinner, D.J. with patio dancing and about 150 "Hunters" to have fun with. George is a Vintage Mustang collector and had about ten completely restored Mustangs, including Shelby versions at his home. George has "done well" in life and he deserves it........hard work and an honest life......good for you George.

I rode the Harley over, Haller rode with Erikson, and they allowed me to park the bike against the house rather than on the street......a kindness I appreciated. As usual, the reunion was more than just a success....because it was handled by volunteers who really cared that it be special. There was even a side benefit in that Haller has some hearing damage from service related exposure to jet engines and Bill Hutton is a National coordinator for Vietnam Vets with the V.A. Hutton volunteered to help Haller get the disability qualification he rates for his service.

Here is a picture of the Marines at the party.

Erikson, Hutton, Haller, Me

I avoided drinking alcohol after about 7 pm and we called it a night about 11. Up early, gassed up, got our mileage certifications for the IB ride and we headed for Santa Ana to have brunch with another Marine buddy. Mike Allen was one of VMA(AW)533 in Chu Lai, and a close friend of Haller and I. He missed the Squadron Reunion in June, so we decided to see him on the return.....we needed another 200 miles on the return leg to make 1,000 and Mike's place was placed just about right. We got there about 10 or 11 am and had a good hour or so, then off we went to Blythe, CA, via Riverside. The ride was hotter than you can imagine, probably about 105-110 at points. Fortunately, Haller and I were wearing evaporative cooling vests. They are made of a polymer impregnated material that soaks up about 3 quarts of water, then evaporates as you ride. The cooling effect is almost like having the A/C on in a car. When the core of the body is cooled the cool blood circulates and cools the extremities....really works. You can recharge the vests every 2 hours or so and stay quite comfortable during desert summer rides.

As we left Blythe the sky was clear and the air HOT. We headed up Route 95 towards Needles and crossed a "whole-lotta-nothing" for about 60 miles before the sky developed rain bearing clouds over the distant mountains. As we got nearer it was apparent there might be a problem. The storm missed us but the lightning did not and a flash flood was filling the dips in the highway. We had no choice but to go forward because Needles was only 25-30 miles in front of us and we had to get away from the lightning as there was no cover. Lightning is a serious hazard to a motorcyclist and the protocol is to stop the bike, get into a building or under a bridge and wait it out....unfortunately there was no cover, so we opted for Plan B and tried to ride out of it. The road dips ranged from a few feet to many feet deep and the water ranged from inches to about 14 inches deep....and the deep areas were small rivers filled with branches, rocks and sand. Our bikes performed quite differently in the water. my open framed Harley Dyna let the water flow through the frame, with the "bow wave" from the tire flowing up over my boots and chaps, drenching my seat and jeans but not my upper body. Haller's Concours was fully faired in front and the bow wave literally flowed over his bike, including his helmet and he was completely drenched with every water entry.....hilarious to watch (him submerging under that muddy water) but not so funny for poor Haller.

We quickly discovered that the best riding method in the dips was to enter them at low speed, to avoid hydroplaning, then gently accelerate to keep the front wheel on top of the sand. That worked for about twenty+ dips until my front wheel hit a submerged rock and I dropped the bike in about 12-14 inches of rushing water. The bike was crosswise in the water, on a slight uphill slope, with a river flowing over it (and me). After three attempts to lift all 800 pounds of it I was joined by two young girls (20's), who got out of their car and waded into the water. They had been waiting for the water to drop with several other cars and an 18 wheeler. The three of us lifted it easily, they assured themselves I was OK and I was able to restart the drowned bike and power my way through the submerged sand to the roadbed. This was one time when the knight on his charger was rescued by the damsels. Haller was waiting about 200 yards up the road, where he was able to find a spot to stop and was walking back to help when I caught up to him. We elected to press on to Needles as the lightning danger was still there. After another ten water filled dips we crested the mountains and headed down to Needles. I considered myself very lucky until I stopped for fuel in Needles and noticed a pint or so of watery oil under my bike.....inspection indicated a finger sized hole in the primary engine cover and loss of all of the oil that lubricated the chain and clutch.....fortunately, the crankcase was not damaged and the engine oil was clean.

At this point I got to experience the Harley HOG support network. It was 5 pm, Sunday night in Needles, CA (that is two blocks from the end of the world). A call to HOG and the following happened:

1. A motorcycle tow truck appeared the next morning at about noon and took me 66 miles to Kingman, AZ (the nearest Harley Dealer)---Mother Road H-D.

2. A new primary engine cover was overnighted from "somewhere" in the H-D system, arriving before 10 am Tuesday.

3. Mother Road H-D mechanics put all other work aside and my bike was on the road by noon that day.

COST: List price for parts, no expediting or overnight costs, one hours labor, a quart of oil and two gaskets. UNBELIEVABLE-----H-D ROCKS.

Monday night was spent at a motel near Mother Road H-D and I can recommend a great Biker Bar nearby. Cold beer, lots of local characters, a friendly bartender and good Bratwurst. If you are in Kingman stop at Mad Dogs for Brats and beer.

The next day I hit the road at 12:30 and was home in bed 12 hours later. One thing I did enjoy about the return ride was crossing over Boulder Dam. The Dam is still open to cars and motorcycles but closed to trucks and cars pulling trailers. Homeland Security is checking everyone as the Dam is a strategic installation and has appropriate security. People warned me I was looking at an hour of traffic but there was none. I literally rode through the security stop and over the dam....no stops except to take a couple of pictures. They are building a huge highway bridge over the gorge in front of the dam and it is spectacular.

Soooooooooo, my IB attempt FAILED again but we will try once again this year before the first snow falls.

Haller left me in Needles by mutual agreement and he DID do his IB successfully, starting in Needles and ending in Baker City, OR (1010 miles).

Lesson learned.....don't try to turn a road Harley into a boat!

Miles covered 1850 over 4.5 days....including 1.5 days down with a "dead" motorcycle.

VMA(AW)533 Reunion

I haven't spent much time on this blog (like NONE) but I have "other" things to do most days. Family and friends have been bugging me to write up my recent cross country motorcycle trip. It was "quite a trip" but mainly because of the worst weather I've experienced in many years....I'd do it again, even knowing that.
















Here I was at the start---clean, rested and READY!

Anyway....

PROLOGUE

Last year (2008), was the second of now three reunions of my Vietnam Era Marine Squadron. We started with three brothers in Philly in '07, in Memphis '08 we had twelve, and this year there were 20 of us with five wives/companions (total of 25). At last count, we have located about 40, with two known deceased.

In '08, one brother (Steve Brooks) showed up on a Harley Dyna and reawakened my old dream of owning a big bore motorcycle. When I got out of the Corps in '69 my roommate had a 650 Triumph that I occasionally rode.....my (then) girlfriend Jane (now wife of 38 years) even rode with me once or twice. I wanted to buy a 650 cc Bonneville then, but with little money, a new marriage, and later two children I kept putting it off and eventually the desire faded. Where I now work there are a lot of bikers and even my young female Product Manager rides a chopped Harley Sportster.


Looking over Brooks' bike at the June '08 reunion I started thinking about it again and in July '08 I bought a Harley (Sportster) Nightster (1200 cc twin), got my license endorsement, and relearned how to ride. Subsequent emails with Brooks and another buddy (Steve Haller) resulted in a crazy plan to ride to the Washington DC Reunion in June '09.


When November came I tucked my "Sporty" away for the Winter (it is suicidal to ride a motorcycle in in Winter here). All winter, Haller and Brooks kept telling me that riding that far on a Sporty was a little nutty because it needs another gear for highway speeds and a little more engine.......THEN Harley came out with a "deal" where you could trade in any Sporty for a bigger bore bike with 100% credit for the original price. That was too good to pass, so off came the motorcycle cover and I rode it down to the Harley Store where I swapped it for a 1574 cc (96 ci) Dyna Street Bob. That was the best decision I have made in years. The Dyna has a longer wheelbase, one more gear and a much bigger engine.....the difference in the highway ride is significant. So....BIG BORE machine under me I was READY TO RIDE!! Haller eventually dropped out due to a family issue (he made the reunion but couldn't take the two weeks for the ride), leaving Brooks and I to show the rest of the "old farts" what you can do at 60+.

THE TRIP

I loaded the bike (looked like a two wheeled Gypsy wagon) and left from work on a Friday afternoon, making Rawlins, Wyoming (rode through Logan Canyon, around Bear Lake and on to I-80) that evening. Weather was forecast as wet and windy, so I was going to skip my plan to ride through the Northern Rockies. However, in the morning the weather cleared and I backtracked 45 miles to head South and into Colorado. I rode across high prairie with pronghorn antelope running alongside the road and finally got to the Northern Rocky mountains. Lunch was in Steamboat Springs (the ski resort) and then I meandered through a number of mountain towns before deciding to attempt crossing the Continental Divide at Milner Pass (12,000 feet). That involved riding through the Rocky Mountain National Park. The Ranger at the park entrance took my $10 and gave me one of those "are you sure you know what you are doing" looks, then warned me to take care and watch out for road damage. I later realized the park must have just opened after a severe winter because the road was under repair and in very bad shape. There were Elk all over the park, most in pretty bad shape (starving) from the winter and it got colder as the altitude increased. The park has had a severe pine beetle infestation for about 20 years and has a lot of dead trees but it is still beautiful.

This image is near the Pass.

At points there were 12 to 14 foot snow drifts, no guard rails and it was a narrow two lane road. Some of the drivers were obviously concerned judging by the strained looks on their faces. However, it was nothing for me riding at only 20-25 mph, well dressed for the cold and too dumb to know it was dangerous.....with no top or sides to my vehicle I had the best view of all and it was spectacular. After I crossed the Divide the weather improved and I dropped down into Estes Park where I was canyon carving with local riders on "rice burners" until I reached I-25 where I turned North to Wyoming, finally shutting down at Cheyenne. I called Brooks and discovered he was a day ahead of schedule and was already in Lincoln, Nebraska (our meeting point). It turned out he hit town when there was a Classic Car Cruise-in and so he rode his shiny "PURPLE" Harley down the street in the parade with all of the locals. You never know what will happen when you hit a town and a Harley is a "ticket" into anything HAPPENIN'.

The next day I rode at 80-90 mph out of Wyoming and across Nebraska to meet him on Sunday at the Harley dealership in Lincoln. That was quite a place, with what seemed like hundreds of bikes. We got our "blue tooth" bike-to-bike communications linked and hit the road, stopping in Davenport, Iowa that evening. Weather had been on and off rain shortly after leaving Lincoln but we always seemed to be in the dry "hole" in the clouds. When we headed out the next day our weather luck held but the main bridge over the Mississippi River was closed, so we had to bypass, costing us some time. We eventually made it to Milwaukee, Wisconsin and checked into the outstanding IRON HORSE HOTEL, just across from the Harley Davidson Museum.

One disconcerting event on the road into Milwaukee shows the stupidity of some drivers and how a motorcyclist has to stay alert. We passed a young woman with a small girl in her car. The girl was not wearing a seat belt, leaning over her mother's shoulder from the back seat, holding the steering wheel while "mom" (and I use the word loosely) was sending a text message on her phone.....at 75 mph on a major roadway. I gave her an "are you crazy look" and she got angry "at ME".......pleas tell me, who is breeding this species of human and how do we get them to stop?

The Iron Horse Hotel caters to bikers but at $200 a night it's not for the average rider. The bikes are parked in special lighted, covered stalls, with 24 hour security....the cars park in a general parking lot.

Brooks & I with our Iron Horses

We had a great dinner, followed by a quiet night of good sleep to prepare us for the Harley Museum.

In the Hotel Lobby with a Custom Iron Horse

Harley Museum

Biker Parking ONLY in front

Four hours at the Museum and we hit the road for our next stop at a Squadron buddies (Roger Philbrook) house in Indiana. He couldn't make the reunion but offered a bed for the night. We crossed, the lower end of Wisconsin and into Illinois (going through Chicago at rush hour), where we had our only near misses of the trip. I was riding in lane 2 of 4 lanes, with nowhere to go, when a Car pulling a house trailer decided to move into my lane. The driver had a change of mind when he looked over to see my motorcycle boot about to crash into his window.....one advantage of a big bore Harley is you are riding above eye level with a car driver and that boot looks very large at that angle......it scared the crap out of him and he quickly corrected his lane change; then Brooks had a young woman in a "bitty car" try to T-bone him at an interchange with another freeway......she saw him, actually aimed her car and literally drove right at him, horn blaring......his angry look changed her mind. We cleared the "windy city" alive and and shut down at Roger Philbrook's place in Indiana for the night.

We had a good restaurant dinner with Roger (he don't cook and neither do we.....), a night of old stories and a few beers, then Roger got a bonus of a CD with pictures of Vietnam that I made for the Reunion group. He appreciated the CD as he had lost his pictures in one of his moves. Brooks and I were off the next morning early, shutting down 100 miles outside Washington, DC. At this point our luck with the weather ended. We left the hotel for dinner at a shopping mall under an almost clear evening sky, only to have it open up as a deluge when we left the restaurant....in T-shirts and jeans..no rain gear.

The next morning found us rolling into DC about noon, over the Potomac River along Massachusetts Avenue, down Embassy Row, to the elegant Fairfax Hotel. President's and Kings have stayed there, Hillery Clinton announced her decision to run for the Presidency there and there were no shortages of Admirals, Generals and politicians in the three days we were there....VERY nice place to hang a hat for the night. The valet could not park the bikes (nor would be have let him), so he walked ahead of us into the bowels of the hotel underground lot where we tucked our iron horses away for the next three days.

THE REUNION

The pictures pretty much say it all.

Iwo Jima Memorial Arlington National Cemetery

Me outside the Marine Museum

Museum of the Marine Corps Entrance

Vietnam Memorial
"Grunts"

The Wall

We did "Marine Things" for three days. Looked each other in the eye and said "Hello Brother" again.....ate, drank, met wives and girlfriends, talked of our families, toasted our dead left in Vietnam, and those that have died since. These are my "brothers" and always will be. We shared bunkers as the mortars and rockets slammed in around us during TET'68, dug fighting holes, filled millions of sandbags, stood watch over our "big ugly" warplanes under a clear Southeast Asian night sky with stars seemingly so close you could touch them; worked 12 hours a day 6-7 days a week for over two years, raised hell on R & R, "relocated" Army and Seabee equipment when our unit needed it, played endless poker games, drank hard, worked hard and lived a life few will ever know.........SEMPER FI BROTHERS!

Many of us hadn't seen each other for over 40 years yet it was like we just walked out of a room and then returned.....the old stories brought back memories (good and bad). It gave us a chance to correct our "tales" by comparing memories and weeding out the parts we had "filled in" over the years. Next year is in planning now and it will be bigger than ever. We were even joined by Charlie Kazinski, a member of VMA-533 in 1943. Charlie heard about our reunion through a VFW notice and came down to join us from New York City. At age 87, he was our oldest "brother" so we added him to our group and listened to his stories of our Squadron's exploits long before many of us were born. We also had a brief visit from one of our Sargent's, who couldn't stay but dropped in for dinner one evening. In the days there, we saw the Iwo Jima Memorial, the Vietnam Wall, the Korea Memorial, WW-2 Memorial, the Marine Museum at Quantico, and attended the Marine Barracks 8th & I Street Evening Parade as Unit Guests. Some of us had a Congressional Tour of the White House and Congress that took most of one day. All-in-all, it was a GREAT event and one we will remember for a long while.

THE RETURN

Brooks and I loaded up Sunday morning, said our goodbye's and headed West. We made Indianapolis by early afternoon in time for him to attend Church while I found a cheap motel. The next day we parted company, after a 30 minute search to find my motorcycle key. Brooks headed home to Alabama (with a stop at the Corvette Museum) and I headed back to Utah via Peoria, Illinois. Jane and I have been concerned about her parents, so I diverted a hundred miles or so to see them overnight. That made for a short day of only 250 miles or so....weather still was my friend but that was soon to end.

One of my goals for the ride was to get my Iron Butt Certification (Iron Butt Association - IBA) for either a 1500 mile (in 36 hours) or 1000 mile (in 24 hours) ride. I saved this for last and my father-in-law certified my departure from his house at 8 am. I rode like crazy but about 250 miles into the days' ride I came on another Harley rider and his wife broken down in the middle of nowhere with a dead cellphone battery. He was homeward bound after a couple of weeks out West and had a blown engine and a dead cellphone battery. He used my phone to arrange for a tow and a repair at the nearest Harley Store (in Des Moines, Iowa). They had been down for an hour and nobody had stopped, so they were walking to a nearby offramp which I knew had no services........his comment, "only another biker would stop to help". It cost me an hour and was the first of several things that doomed my IBA ride to failure. Later that night at the 750 mile mark the sky opened up and I was riding in a torrential downpour, only able to make 40 mph at night on I-80.......CRAZINESS, so I shut down for the night. With less than a thousand miles left on the ride home there was no chance to make the numbers work and I got a good night's sleep, abandoning my IB attempt. The night brought nearby tornado's, heavy rain and hail but a relatively clear morning. I hit the road and ran into patches of heavy rain (wall clouds would appear and buckets of rain then fell), often with pea sized hail (not a problem with my "crash jacket", a rain suit and a full face helmet....but annoying anyway. Just west of Rock Springs, Wyoming I hit heavy rain and lightning striking in the fields next to the road, so I pulled under a road bridge and waited it out. Another Harley rider and his son (son riding pillion) on a Road Glide rolled under just after I did, so we talked until I left. They were from Nashville, Tennessee doing a Western National Parks Tour and I know many of the Parks, so I was able to give some advice. Finally, the lightning stopped so I started again in the rain, eventually leaving I-80, headed to Bear Lake and down beautiful Logan Canyon, arriving home in Smithfield about 6 pm. I suspect Jane was glad to see me because the garage door opened as I rounded the corner to the driveway with my bike running on fumes (I didn't want to even stop for gas the last few miles), both the bike and I were filthy dirty and I was very tired.

STATS

4,775 miles round trip

Longest day 750 miles, with at least three over 600 miles

Crossed or rode through 11 States and the District of Columbia

5 days outbound

3.5 days return

Hundreds of waves from other riders....lots of good road advice at rest stops....two kids with their Dad's "checked out" the bike........noticed that bikers are not like people in cars.......they "talk to each other"!

NO major incidents and I would do it again....maybe taking a few days longer each way!!

Anyone ready to go with me is welcome......a basic requirement is you have to have a motorcycle. I'm planning a run up to Yellowstone and back, and West Coast ride (probably St George-to-Vegas-to-San Diego and back) before the end of the riding year.