Ventura Highway. A Warm Kiss Goodbye.

Ventura Highway. A Warm Kiss Goodbye.

          I have borne witness to sixty-two Octobers during my time. I have enough stored knowledge of the season to realize that it could just as well be cold and snowing. But today, October 11, 2020, the weather is a pleasant seventy degrees and mostly sunny.

          The reality is that this day may be the last ride of 2020. Plans were made the night before and a time for departure was determined to be between 10:30 and 11 AM. This would leave time in the morning to do some daily chores until the air warmed.

Contrary to our usual departure, we were a little early as we pulled out of the driveway at 11:15. Our last-of-the-year trip will be one that is a favorite of mine and Judy’s. One that will take us to sparsely populated areas with lite traffic and little to no cell phone service. Perfect!

          The air was slightly chilly rolling along at fifty-five and I may have been a bit hasty in my decision to leave my signature blue jean jacket in the saddlebag. But it was not unbearable, and I was quickly able to retreat my thoughts to the calming effect of the day and the surroundings. The tranquil peace and calm I find on two wheels is accentuated when I can lean back into my wife, friend and partner of thirty-seven of my sixty-two Octobers, while taking in the baritone rumble of the motor below that propels us to our destination.  

          Our plan is to ride to the nearby town of Clearfield and continue on for about eight miles where we will pick up Route 53 and follow it to Route 144 North into the remote town of Renovo Pa. where we will pick up Route 120 and follow it to Driftwood Pa. There we pick up Route 555 back to Route 255 into DuBois Pa. and then home. A round trip of about 175 miles.

          We were well into Route 144 and the remoteness of the smooth road when it dawned on me that the song I have been singing and humming in my head is an old favorite of mine by the soft rock group America. The melody seemed to fit the day and the road we were on is my “Ventura Highway”.

          (Depending on which version of the song’s meaning you are inclined to believe, it was written by band member Dewey Bunnell while staying in England. The lyric “Alligator lizards in the air”. Was inspired by the clouds overhead when he was a young boy and was waiting for his Dad to change a flat tire they got while traveling on the Ventura Freeway.)

          Mile after peacefully secluded mile rolled beneath us and the colorful fall foliage, presented to us by The Keepers, drew our attention. No, do not get me wrong, I have but the smallest admiration for the bright colors of fall. Though pretty, they signal the coming winter. A season I have no time for but am forced to endure. I receive no invigoration, nor do I give any type of admiration to the frozen death like calm and bleakness they call “Winter”.

          I forced the coming season from my thoughts and settled back into the day and the road ahead while the motor sings to me from below. With only the two of us on the road, I begin to dance the bike back and forth, within our lane, in a bitumen ballet.

          After a quick stop at a scenic overlook to take a few pictures and employ the use of the portable facilities, we were back on the road and coming into one of my favorite parts of the trip.

          The road is a, five-mile, downhill trip, and a sort of slalom run for the mechanized traveler. Switch backs and sharp turns highlight the downhill winding road in the middle of an area of nowhere. The two wheeled rider must be on their best for the challenge but it’s not so tough for the novice rider not to enjoy also.

          At the foot of the downhill road trip, lays the town of Renovo. Once a booming railroad and lumber town, it is now economically challenged.

          Judy had picked out a place to get a cup of coffee in this town while on the back of the bike utilizing an “app” on her phone before entering the areas that have no cell phone service. She is my navigator when the need arises for such and she guided us to the spot with little trouble.

          The outside of the place was what one would expect from an economically dying town. It was in dire need of some upkeep and remodeling, but we dawned our government mandated masks. (Do not even get me started on this highly questionable and unconstitutional injunction.) Inside, all I will say is that we looked around, inhaled a strange and unpleasant odor, and left without coffee.

          Traveling to the other end of town we hit Route 120. The road from Renovo to Driftwood follows the Sinnemahoning branch of the Susquehanna River and some of the most beautiful scenery Pennsylvania has to offer.

          There are places along the route where you are only a few feet from a cliff, from when the road was cut, on one side and a steep drop-off to the river below on the other side.

          This part of our trip not only parallels the river but also runs through deep woods and into the heart of Pennsylvania’s Elk heard grounds. We traveled the rest of our journey always watchful for the large beast.

          In Driftwood we connected with Route 555 and the last of the wooded leg of our trip.

          It’s about thirty miles to Route 255 from Driftwood and as we got closer to Route 255 the traffic began to get heavier and there were spots where the annual Elk gazers had the road almost shut off due to their inconsiderate parking. The combination of the day’s warmth, the fall foliage, and the Elk had brought out people by the droves and yes, I guess you could say we were part of that sojourn also.

          We arrived home around four o’clock that afternoon and stored the bike away to get ready for an outdoor cookout and fire. Judy and I hosted the small get together for my Sister, my son, and his girlfriend and their two daughters, our Granddaughters Harlee and Leah.

          After we all had our fill of burgers and dogs, potato salad and taco salad, I began to think about the day. Perhaps the last nice day to ride was today, perhaps this is the last nice weekend of summer. Like a lover or good friend, a kiss or handshake or a hug goodbye is never enough. You want more. I want just one more ride. I want just one more warm sunny day before the freeze.

          This summer too had its own uniqueness with the, highly politicized, Covid-19. Summer was ruined and for some even their businesses and lives are now just memories.

Pools closed and gatherings of all kinds canceled. Even our own hometown Fourth of July celebration, a celebration known throughout the state, was nothing more than a few bottle rockets sent aloft from afar. Disappointing is an understatement and the political parties never missed an opportunity to blame someone for not doing enough or some wanting to implement too much restriction.

          I also thought about that song that stayed with me the entire trip today. It was a song from long ago. A song of little importance then but now a song of deep reflection. That song was popular when I was at an age when the world was one of wonder and exploration on the first of my lifelong obsession with motorcycles. I had the world before me, and all problems would be handled by Mom and Dad.

          Now we are the “Mom and Dad”, and it’s up to us to fix the problems for our children and grandchildren. It’s going to be a long winter.