Sticking to the back roads is just something you do when riding a motorcycle cross-country. It is the best way to see America and Canada. You stop and experience the culture and briefly meet some of the local people. On one of my trips in the mid-1980s (and while crossing Nebraska, or was it Kansas?), I stopped at a country store in a small farming town for gas. Hanging out in front of the store was an old man with a green John Deere hat.
While enjoying a diet coke, we began to talk. Not because we were bored, but because of the amusing show that was unfolding across the street in a large field.
“Blackie is out loose again,” said the old man.
“Who’s Blackie?” I asked.
“That’s the 800 lbs. black bull across the street those fellas are trying to run down. He gets loose about 4 times a year and wanders all over town, only he is dangerous especially when it is early summer.”
I reflected and understood as I watched a man, boy in a pickup truck bouncing through the field trying to put a rope around the big bulls head and horns. The bull was running in circles causing the truck to veer and fling dirt and grass behind it as it tried to keep up. The poor boy looked to be 12 or 13 years old was in the truck bed with the rope. He was bouncing around in the bed as the truck accelerated. The hardest working and truly focused one trying to get Blackie in line though was a black and white Border Collie running after the bull and corralling him towards the truck. The focus on the dog's face was intense.
“Tried to help them once about 5 or 6 years ago when Blackie got out. Didn’t go so well. People and young-ins never learn,” he said with a snicker and a roll of his eyes! He continued.. "Spent better course of 2 hours trying to get Blackie to where I could throw the rope around his neck. Finally I managed to lasso him. Then... I realized that I was on one end of the rope and an angry black bull on the other! What was I supposed to do then? Well Blackie had had enough of us after 2 hours and was right pissed. He charged the truck and did some serious damage while I scrambled to save my hide!”
I laughed hard and said I wouldn’t know what to do either. As we continued to watch the drama unfold - Blackie charged and circled and had no rope around his neck yet, and the boy and (I assumed his father) were frustrated trying to position the truck and counter. The Border Collie continued his circular stalking.
“Once they get that rope around his neck, same thing will happen. I hate to admit it, but that one driving the truck is my son and the one in the back is my grandson, never learn… damn dog got more sense. Not much I can do about it at my age anyways,” said the old man.
“How old are you?” I asked hesitantly!
“94,” he said, “Been here my whole life!”
“Wow, you look great for 94,” I said.
“That’s ‘cuz I usually go inside when Blackie gets out, tends to age me faster watching that fool of a son of mine!”
I didn’t reply, and watched the show a few more minutes (still no success yet with Blackie), said good bye, and headed down the road totally amused.
Had miles to burn before I could sleep...