February 19, 2025
I left the house at eight in the morning and got home at eight last night. A 242 mile, four-hour—and one minute—run to Bisbee, and back the same day. And, I must say, it was just about a memory every mile. For starters, I have spent most of my life on the road from Kingman to Phoenix, and then on to Tucson and then on out to Benson and Tombstone but don't forget Saint David. And then down to Bisbee. Here's the Cliff Notes version of those hundreds of disparate and crazy memories:
• One and done. When I was in college, I once made the run in a '67 Mustang from Tucson to Kingman in four hours, without stopping. Today I can't go more than 25 miles without stopping to pee.
• Deadly car wrecks. I witnessed many cars upside down in the ditch and in others, car parts scattered across the median, bodies with blankets over them. I actually witnessed at least three bad wrecks happening in front of me, behind me, or going in the other direction.
• Mooning Wildcat women out the window of my Ford F-150 at ninety miles an hour. I was driving and two roommates did the mooning—because I am not that irresponsible!
• At least three flats and two engine failures, thankfully not on the same road trip.
• Five detours with a happy ending.
Meanwhile, thanks to Mark McDowell, our fearless leader, we made it yesterday to Bisbee a little after one and met these guys.
We were at the Breakfast Club in Bisbee (actually Lowell) to present Jay Dusard with the 2025 True Westerner Award.
The Honored Guest
I sat next to this crazy guy who regaled me with Bisbee stories.
Matt Cook The S--t Sheriff(his term!)
Matt was the sewer line inspector for Bisbee for many years and still has the badge to prove it. We had some first rate musicians with us as well, including Ronnie Glover and an excellent fiddler.
Great day, long run.
"I'd rather snuggle with my vices than wrestle with my demons."
—Brent Bond, our driver on the way home
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