Seven Finger Larry

You know I had to stop here.





This is where we start living. Off the beaten path, no more interstate. Went through the Utah desert on 191 South and then on 95 north West to 24 West. Words fail me: beauty, peace, grandness are close though.

Moab is a quaint town. Pulled in about 20mph, about because there is no real way of knowing with a failed speedo, and stopped in to check out Lone Rider. Larry is a character out of the wild west, grey beard, about 6', thin, muscled, tatoos, all leathered out, missing fingers,Vietnam Vet, the smell of old leather on him, and that "crazy look in his eyes." Sharp witted though and I could tell in 1 minute there was a lot going on inside that knocker and some of it I wanted no part of. He didn't have what I was looking for but helped me with info on my destination.

He also asked me if I was travelling solo, if I had a gun. (...what? are you kidding me?) He was dead serious. Said he used to live in Torrey where I was heading to stay. "Bunch of inbred sons of bitches..." and so on and so forth. Didn't have anything good to say about the people out there. Told me stories of guys trying to highjack his bike, pulling guns out, dropping behind the bike and pulling his rusty six shooter out. He looked at me with steel blue eyes and told me to watch out. Sent chills through me. Told me how he got knifed in the back one time, but it was a short blade that broke off and he was able to fight it off. I was thinking if I had to go buy a gun now. Told me not to talk to anyone too long, don't give up too much info, stay away from yokels.

I surely appreciated all this (or did I?). I'm not the type to go looking for trouble. But sometimes trouble sure does find you. Something didn't sit right inside of me. And while I wanted to stay and talk, Seven Fingers certainly did, something was telling me get going partner. So we said our good byes and off I went street side. The sun was blazing, the wind just cool and perfect, the smell fresh and crystalline. Shake all that bad stuff away. I was gonna ride. And guess what? I'm going where I'm going. Mama don't raise no fool. Done. If I get bushwacked by some bandidos, take the bike, take the wallet. If I get blown away, I couldn't find a better place on God's earth to lay my head to rest.

After I left I wondered if I should have volunteered where I was going. But, I had a great day and an awesome ride. Didn't get shot either. ;-)