Our big packed jet touched down in Phoenix last Wednesday evening. The sky, black as ebony, framed a cement landscape bright with twinkling lights of every color and variety that surrounded huge, slim aluminum birds of many colors. I gazed out the jet’s window at service people who hurried about on the tarmac, holding slim orange guiding lights, driving electric vehicles, directing other jets to their parking areas. There was no snow.
Joe and I are visiting his Arizona-based family for a week, as Michigan’s icy white winter is wearing thin. Joe’s sister Nan and her husband Jim collected us, and an hour later we arrived at their lovely new desert home. One entire wing was ours, but we were barely able to appreciate it, as it was well past midnight before we finally slept. (Arizona has a three-hour time difference.).
First thing Thursday morning he and I collected our 800 pound ‘big mama’- a beautiful silver Honda ST 1300 1261cc V4 motorcycle we’d reserved. The business’s owner, an older man with a life-long passion for these sleek machines, warned us that the Sonoran Desert (the hottest in the United States) routinely kills macho bikers. Apparently every year over-confident dudes disregard his rule: Never. Motor. Off-Road. They do it anyway, hot to explore the endlessly parched, hilly and mountainous moon-like landscape. Eventually, out of gas and bottled water, they find themselves stranded in a featureless, oven-hot wilderness. Phones don’t work that far out. There is no shade. So, they try to walk out, with no clue where ‘out’ is.
Thirst and heat exhaustion claim them quickly.
We listened, impressed. No chance of that happening. No sir. We older dudes are thankfully wiser.
So. This morning just before sunrise we fired up Silver, pleased at how quiet this bike was. It purred.
We crept out of the subdivision and five minutes later entered the desert on a nice paved, barren road, with our trusty GPS and lots of water stored in the aluminum saddle bags.
The world was ours, as nobody was up this early. It was a perfect morning. The rose-streaked sky provided a dramatic backdrop for rolling hills set off by huge cindery grey and black mountain backdrops. Bushes boasting gorgeous flowers that thrive in drought brightened the parched landscape. Countless giant Saguaro cacti towered over everything. (These stunning plants don’t begin to grow ‘arms’ until they reach 75 to 100 years of age. Some, though, refuse to grow any. They can reach dizzying heights.)
Teddy bear, or jumping Cholla cactus, are cuddly-looking, but one must never touch. Their needle sharp spines ‘jump’ onto and pierce human skin, causing great pain. It was just dumb luck that I didn’t go near any.
Then there are the Organ Pipe cacti, whose many thick arms grow from a central ground-based bud in massive profusion. Like the Saguaro cacti they’re huge, but ball-shaped, and often live some 200 years before succumbing to bird beaks, age and weather.
Wild life abounds. We saw two pale-coated coyotes padding along an arroyo. They ignored us. We’d been treated to a coyote concert in the middle of the night, so seeing these animals was an extra treat.
Quail and jackrabbits- lots of them- darted away as we passed them at a sedate 40 m.p.h. The temperature registered a very comfortable 57 degrees. (It would rise to over 90 in early afternoon.)
(Nan had commented that wild burros, horses and pigs live out there, too. She and Jim had been reluctant hosts to javelinas, small, gray wild pigs with a distinctive collar of spiky hair around their necks. (These creatures stink! They have a gland at the base of their tails to mark their territory. Its odor is disgusting- except, of course, to fellow peccaries.
They’d driven into their driveway one evening to find a group of ugly pigs (who sport long javelin-like fangs) devouring every potted geranium she owned. All they could do was watch from the safety of the car. The rancid creatures were unfazed by noise and flashing car lights.)
Anyway, as the sun rose hot and incredibly bright we turned our motorcycle back toward home. Darn! I’d hoped to spot a snake, but no such luck…
We eventually arrived home, parked the motorcycle and got out the bicycles. Wouldn’t it be fun to cruise around these beautifully kept blocks, just to check out the homes- all earth-colored, all fairly new? We peddled up and down the quiet streets enjoying the crisp air, when—Oh, Boy! We came upon a rummage sale! We were their first browsers.
I love this sort of thing. We parked our bikes and inspected the offerings in the sellers’ spacious garage. But nothing caught my eye…until I bumped into a HUGE, fat, gorgeous 15-foot red snake with black and white bands, draped fetchingly over a tall floor mirror. Bang! I fell in love! I had to own it. Would it be a pricy treasure? How would I transport it home? Security might not let it through the check point…While I pondered these vital questions Joe, noting ‘the look’ sighed and said, “I’ll bike back home to get my wallet. Back in a minute.” He knew.
Gleefully I draped the creature over my shoulders and around my neck. A few minutes later Joe returned and paid the man- who wanted only $5.00 for this treasure! We peddled it home with some difficulty. “Nan,” I hollered; “I bought a big snake! It’s a fine specimen; have a look!” Horrified that I would bring one into the house she refused to look, until I insisted. There was Sheba, draped languidly over the couch, right at home. Her black felt tongue hung out as my reptile surveyed the room. Nan had to laugh.
I rushed outside to pose her in their beautiful garden.
I know… I’ve lost my head over that snake.
See the photos below to more fully appreciate my appreciation…
The day had ended very well, I thought.
I’d found my snake…
(P.S. They’ll drive Sheba back to Michigan at the end of March.)
Joe and I are visiting his Arizona-based family for a week, as Michigan’s icy white winter is wearing thin. Joe’s sister Nan and her husband Jim collected us, and an hour later we arrived at their lovely new desert home. One entire wing was ours, but we were barely able to appreciate it, as it was well past midnight before we finally slept. (Arizona has a three-hour time difference.).
First thing Thursday morning he and I collected our 800 pound ‘big mama’- a beautiful silver Honda ST 1300 1261cc V4 motorcycle we’d reserved. The business’s owner, an older man with a life-long passion for these sleek machines, warned us that the Sonoran Desert (the hottest in the United States) routinely kills macho bikers. Apparently every year over-confident dudes disregard his rule: Never. Motor. Off-Road. They do it anyway, hot to explore the endlessly parched, hilly and mountainous moon-like landscape. Eventually, out of gas and bottled water, they find themselves stranded in a featureless, oven-hot wilderness. Phones don’t work that far out. There is no shade. So, they try to walk out, with no clue where ‘out’ is.
Thirst and heat exhaustion claim them quickly.
We listened, impressed. No chance of that happening. No sir. We older dudes are thankfully wiser.
So. This morning just before sunrise we fired up Silver, pleased at how quiet this bike was. It purred.
We crept out of the subdivision and five minutes later entered the desert on a nice paved, barren road, with our trusty GPS and lots of water stored in the aluminum saddle bags.
The world was ours, as nobody was up this early. It was a perfect morning. The rose-streaked sky provided a dramatic backdrop for rolling hills set off by huge cindery grey and black mountain backdrops. Bushes boasting gorgeous flowers that thrive in drought brightened the parched landscape. Countless giant Saguaro cacti towered over everything. (These stunning plants don’t begin to grow ‘arms’ until they reach 75 to 100 years of age. Some, though, refuse to grow any. They can reach dizzying heights.)
Teddy bear, or jumping Cholla cactus, are cuddly-looking, but one must never touch. Their needle sharp spines ‘jump’ onto and pierce human skin, causing great pain. It was just dumb luck that I didn’t go near any.
Then there are the Organ Pipe cacti, whose many thick arms grow from a central ground-based bud in massive profusion. Like the Saguaro cacti they’re huge, but ball-shaped, and often live some 200 years before succumbing to bird beaks, age and weather.
Wild life abounds. We saw two pale-coated coyotes padding along an arroyo. They ignored us. We’d been treated to a coyote concert in the middle of the night, so seeing these animals was an extra treat.
Quail and jackrabbits- lots of them- darted away as we passed them at a sedate 40 m.p.h. The temperature registered a very comfortable 57 degrees. (It would rise to over 90 in early afternoon.)
(Nan had commented that wild burros, horses and pigs live out there, too. She and Jim had been reluctant hosts to javelinas, small, gray wild pigs with a distinctive collar of spiky hair around their necks. (These creatures stink! They have a gland at the base of their tails to mark their territory. Its odor is disgusting- except, of course, to fellow peccaries.
They’d driven into their driveway one evening to find a group of ugly pigs (who sport long javelin-like fangs) devouring every potted geranium she owned. All they could do was watch from the safety of the car. The rancid creatures were unfazed by noise and flashing car lights.)
Anyway, as the sun rose hot and incredibly bright we turned our motorcycle back toward home. Darn! I’d hoped to spot a snake, but no such luck…
We eventually arrived home, parked the motorcycle and got out the bicycles. Wouldn’t it be fun to cruise around these beautifully kept blocks, just to check out the homes- all earth-colored, all fairly new? We peddled up and down the quiet streets enjoying the crisp air, when—Oh, Boy! We came upon a rummage sale! We were their first browsers.
I love this sort of thing. We parked our bikes and inspected the offerings in the sellers’ spacious garage. But nothing caught my eye…until I bumped into a HUGE, fat, gorgeous 15-foot red snake with black and white bands, draped fetchingly over a tall floor mirror. Bang! I fell in love! I had to own it. Would it be a pricy treasure? How would I transport it home? Security might not let it through the check point…While I pondered these vital questions Joe, noting ‘the look’ sighed and said, “I’ll bike back home to get my wallet. Back in a minute.” He knew.
Gleefully I draped the creature over my shoulders and around my neck. A few minutes later Joe returned and paid the man- who wanted only $5.00 for this treasure! We peddled it home with some difficulty. “Nan,” I hollered; “I bought a big snake! It’s a fine specimen; have a look!” Horrified that I would bring one into the house she refused to look, until I insisted. There was Sheba, draped languidly over the couch, right at home. Her black felt tongue hung out as my reptile surveyed the room. Nan had to laugh.
I rushed outside to pose her in their beautiful garden.
I know… I’ve lost my head over that snake.
See the photos below to more fully appreciate my appreciation…
The day had ended very well, I thought.
I’d found my snake…
(P.S. They’ll drive Sheba back to Michigan at the end of March.)
