Riding the Range all Day Day 8

Bob Naquin

I saddled up on what looked like it was going to be a hot day, and headed further east pulling my toy behind me. This part of Texas is just undulating hills and lots of them.

I stopped for gas at one point and a white haired gentleman came up to me and said,” How is number 610 running?”

I was a little taken aback by this because I had never seen this guy before and I had no idea of how he could know the number of my bike. I asked him how he came by this knowledge. He told me I had talked to his wife a couple of days ago and told her about it. I was about to disavow all knowledge of his wife, which is my usual first response in these situations, and then I remembered a lady I met in the parking of a motel two days prior. As it turned out they had been seeing me on the road for two days and just by chance we had both stopped at the same gas station at the same time.

I told him I was on my way to Fredericksburg to see my old Master Sergeant from the Air Force and he then told me he was a retired chaplain from the Air Force. While the world and Texas is seems pretty big in reality it is not so big.

So I motored on to Fredericksburg to the home of Curt and Sonia Denton. Curt and I were stationed in Germany together in 1972 to 1976 and had not seen each other since. In an odd way we had always kept in touch and he was always bugging me to visit so at last I had made it. It was good to see Curt and to meet Sonia after all of the years.

But first, I had to get into his house. Curt’s house is guarded by a pit bull in a pussy cat’s body. This cat is 16 years old, no claws, no teeth and always on the look out for a fight. I have never seen such a vicious animal. If you don’t give it a fight, it will stalk you down and attack you. And not in a playful way. It is very very serious about hurting you. Luckily it is not all that capable any longer. Curt claims the cat foiled an attempted breaking and entering. If I was a burglar and came upon this Cujo-like cat, I would find a softer target also. What a vicious critter.


One bad pussy cat

Curt and I took a tour of his man cave where he restores old things. He was in the process of restoring a 1951 Arial motorcycle so we sat and chatted about that while Sonia fixed a delightful dinner of pasta and clams. Barbara came over from next door to meet me. She had read one of my stories and just had to meet the famous author. My head won’t fit in my helmet now. We then spent the rest of the evening telling war stories and recalling old friends. And then we played a few games which I let Curt win because he is old and feeble. (That is not true but one day Curt will read this and I had to get in one last dig.) A very pleasant evening.


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