I was surprised and delighted that I got an answer to my question about the lyrics for "I'm so Lonesome I could Cry" in just a few minutes! The Cowpie site is terrific. Thank you all for the pointer.

katlaughing: I never did live in Colorado. At the time Iof the moment I wrote about, I was living in Boston. I used to ride out to California by one route or another every summer. It wasn't so much California as it was the trip back and forth that made me want to make these two-wheeled voyages. I did this for years until I stopped having the kind of flexibility in my job that gave me four to eight weeks off when I wanted it.

I used to combine my love of music with The Ride. I guess I still do. If when I am traveling I see a place on a map that reminds me of a song, I head there. Some places that come to mind where this conceit has taken me include Big Rock Candy Mountain in Utah, Dumas, Texas (Ding Dong Daddy), Okema OK (Woody Guthrie's hometown), Shawnee OK (where the log chain and the deputy had their run-in), the Banks of the Ohio, Sugarland ("You'll be Sugarland bound"), Cripple Creek, Grand Coulee Dam, The Mohawk Vale, and a lot of Red Rivers Valley. When I get to one of these places, I like to find a quiet place by myself and play for a while, including, of course, the song that motivated me to come to that particular place. From then on, it seems as though the song and I are more a part of each other. The really nic thing is that the sense of place comes back whenever I play the song.

I usually carry a mountain dulcimer a couple of harmonicas and a limberjack on the bike. (The limberjack is greatr if you run into some kids.)

Fadac: I have a 1983 BMW R-80 RT. I no longer carry a CB. I actually prefer the aloneness on the bike even though when I get into a car the first thing I do is turn the radio on. I only had one other good ecperience with a CB and that had nothing to do with music. My closest and longest time friend was working for a man who was quite well known. I heard on the news that the guy had died and I knew Joe would be very upset. He lives on the other side of the country but I called him immediately and we talked. He was very depressed. I made him an offer. I told him that I would meet him at the Long Branch Saloon in Dodge City, KS in exactly 2 weeks at noon ("Do not forsake me, oh, my darling"). He had always said he wanted to take his bike across country and now he had the time. I'd meet him halfway.

He agreed and after each of us had driven 15-16 hundred miles, we actually were able to call out on our CBs and first "met" that way.

The way it happened though was that I walked into the Long Branch Saloon (which is a tourist attraction) on the appointed day. My bootheels made a satisfying "Crump", "crump" sound as I crossed the board sidewalk, leaving the bright sunlight as I pushed through the swinging doors into an empty barroom. The two arrow hands of the Regulator clock above the bar were pointing directly at the XII at the top of the clock. Underneath the timepiece, the bartender, wearing a white shirt and an apron with his shirtsleeves held up by broad black elastic garters, looked up at me and asked if he could help me. I was hot and as dusty as any of the thousands of cattle drovers that had come through Dodge City in the years long past and I asked for the same refreshment they would have. "I'd like a beer."

"Sorry, we don't have a liquor license here. WOuld you like a sasparilla?"

I had to face it, Joe was late but I didn't feel like waiting for him in a beerless barroom so I went back outside and sat on my bike with hte CB on. Every so often, I would call out on it, "Rainmaker, this is Sourdough. How about it?"

THe third or fourth time I did this, I got an answer.

"Sourdough, you got the Boise Boxcar here. You waitin on a friend on a two wheeler?"

"I sure am Boxcar. You know something abut him? His handle's Rainmaker? Come back."

"I passed him about fifteen minutes ago. He was getting some fuel. He was on the radio asking some drivers to carry a message to you saying he'd be right on behind."

Sure enough, a couple minutes later, I raised Joe on the radio and we took a commemorative photo in front of a big longhorn steer statue in the center of downtown Dodge.

That was the only other trip I really enjoyed my CB on the bike. Joe and I completed his trip together and we chatted a lot on the way.

My most recent trip started in Petaluma CA. It was in late September and I was planning on going to Banff and Lake Louise but I was warned by a Canadian mc friend that it was too late in the season for that unless I wanted to test my endurance. By that time, though, I was committed to going to Oregon on business. Plan B was to cross the Siskyious (Tying a Knot in the Devil's Tail) and head for Wyoming. There is a Whitney Museum of Western Art there I wanted to revisit. When I finished up my work on the Oregon Coast and headed east, the weather in the mountains was awful so I headed southeast along the weather front figuring I'd go due east or northeast when the front had moved on. It turned out to be a stationary front, at least for a few days and I ended up in Big Bend, Texas. Of course, I stayed out of the rain though.

I camped that night near the Rio Grande. That afternoon, I went down to the river and waded across to Mexico just for the hell of it. Then I found myself a patch of tree shade and played Rivers of Texas for a while. I may have confused the Mexicans who were passing away the same afternoon on the other side of the river. I mean, I played Rivers of Texas a lot!

I sure can let my fingers run on at some length once I get started. I think it's time to stop.

Sourdough