The Red Coat Trail

In early July of 1874, the great trek by the North West Mounted Police to bring law and order to the Canadian West began. Two hundred and seventy-five men, half as many oxen, 90-odd cattle, 310 horses, 114 Red River carts, 73 wagons, field guns, mortars, forges and field kitchens all tagged along.

It seems that a place known as Fort Whoop Up and the mayhem associated with it was the cause of it all. After covering over 800 miles from July 8 to September 30, the Mounted Police discovered that the place had been deserted in advance of their arrival.

In anticipation, it appears that the whiskey traders abandoned their fort:

…B, C and F Troops north to Fort Whoop Up at the junction of the Belly and St. Mary rivers. There they found that the whiskey traders had learned of the mounted police’s approach and had gone out of business. – Diary of Commissioner George Arthur French, N.W.M.P.

Boxing George Foreman

I’ve got a south-facing balcony with a nice view, so I thought I might like to do some cooking out there too. You know how it goes: sit out, enjoy the view, might as well cook something, damn but I don’t want to go inside to cook…

George Foreman electric grillErgo, a George Foreman electric grill!

So, off I go in search of something that should be as common as a nail in a tire. Not so, apparently. After driving around aimlessly, I finally discover one at a linen store. A linen store? Well, all right, I do need some sheets.

Out with the credit card, home with the ‘q (and the sheets), and lo and behold, if I’m a midget, I could use the thing. One section of the stand is missing.

There’s no way I’m gonna hit the barbie on my hands and knees, so back to the store it goes — but first I have to get it all back in the box.

An ill wind

I learned today that an old friend has cancer.

We worked together back in the ’70s and ’80s and had a ton of fun doing our respective jobs – his specialty was air attack, mine was in aerial delivery. In the mid-’80s we went our respective ways but we always stayed in touch, either by phone, or in person when I went on one of my gypsy motorcycle treks across North America.

When we got together we always had plenty of stories to tell one another and the peals of laughter would cause his wife to wonder what in hell it was that we could be so carefree about. It was that devil-may-care attitude we both had that comes with each of us being competent and proficient at our jobs – to the exclusion of all else – when it was required. That, and an ability to see through the pretentious phoniness of those who attempted to interlope and ride to glory on our backs, so to speak. Eventually his wife would catch on, but she had to be re-trained a time or two before it became permanent.

Ted has two daughters, and the last time I saw them they both looked like trouble — in a good way, of course. One is now 16 and driving. Now there’s justice for him. I can’t wait to remind him about the beer in the back seat and the girls in the trunk – just in case he doesn’t have enough on his mind right now.

He’ll be thrilled when I hit him with that one just after he comes out of surgery.

Clinton did it too

Yes. So did someone else:

In 1992, on the eve of his last Christmas in the White House, George H.W. Bush pardoned former defense secretary Caspar Weinberger and five others for their conduct related to the Iran-Contra affair, in which he himself was also loosely implicated. – Dan Froomkin, White House Watch, washingtonpost.com

Motorcycle rally blues

I’m thinking about riding over to Sturgis. I know, I know. So smack me across the face and chastise me severely. (And note that the link points to the town’s rally web site, although there are more than a few other Sturgis rally sites with things to sell you, believe me.)

Harley’s remarkable recovery from the edge of bankruptcy to its return to dominance in the North American motorcycle market due to embracing modern manufacturing and advertising methods, just as much as brand recognition, has ensured that the Harley-dominated rally sites are filled to overflowing with strange people attempting to emulate the bikers. Fortunately, clothes don’t make the man in that endeavor, either.

Huge – and I do mean huge – crowds of people show up on too many motorcycles at these rallies. Endless lines of bikes running to and fro mean traffic jams and mile after mile of bikes all going to the same place.

The Sturgis rally is not reserved for Harleys only. Anyone can and does attend, on any brand. Some even show up sans motorcycle, satisfied to profile in their biker duds. And really, who’s to know whether they’re “real” bikers or not? Here’s a visual clue one of the vendor girls told me about quite a few years back: they check boots for the telltale shifter scuff.

Up to half a million people – in a good year – are wont to jam into Sturgis, a town of 6,500 people during the rest of the year. Police recruited from across the nation are invited to converge and issue tickets for the silliest things, just to show everyone who’s boss. In fact, those “ticket sales” generate the town’s major source of revenue for the entire year. Well, that, and vendor fees, but I’d suggest that tickets are the major source.

The Sturgis motorcycle rally – as opposed to “The Sturgis Motorcycle Rally” – has started to get smart and begins happening during the week before the “official” rally begins. That suits me just fine, since I got tired of the place in the late ’80s. It really began spiraling downwards full-speed during the ’90s and hasn’t piqued my curiosity since.

Although…

More and more riders are rolling into town during the week before. The pace is relaxed, the people are genuine and the atmosphere is entirely different. There are a few vendors who get it and are setting up during that prior week also.

I am sorely tempted.

The 67th Sturgis Motorcycle Rally runs from August 6 to August 12, 2007.

What’s that smell?

Why, it’s the smell of King George and what remains of his once-great empire being flushed down the toilet by the commutation of sentence accorded to Scooter Libby.

Can you smell it?

No?

Then, perhaps, you’ve got Alzheimer’s disease, since the latest research shows that those with a diminishing sense of smell could be a candidate for the disease.

Lead author Robert Wilson of Chicago’s Rush University Medical Center said a diminishing sense of smell isn’t cause for panic.

In this case, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.