Chasing Tumble Weeds

Last weekend, I took a little trip to Arizona on the Harley with my wife Kathy and another couple. The idea was to go to Canyon de Chelly at Chinle, AZ and down the road a bit to the historic Hubble Trading Post at Ganado and do some watercolors of these scenic and famous places. Both are on the Navajo Reservation. Originally we were going to camp at Chinle but let me just say that it didn’t work out. I’ll leave it at that. Instead, we decided to camp in Cortez, CO and make a day trip down into the Rez on Sunday. Unfortunately that’s the only part that worked as planned.


We arrived in Cortez midday and set up camp. That afternoon the wind began to blow. Our wisdom told us that it would die down when it got dark. I mean, typically that’s the way it goes. You know that. Well, I’m here to say that the wind howled all night long. None of us got any sleep, what with the sides of our flimsy nylon tents whipping violently and the fear that the tents stakes would rip out of the ground and we’d find ourselves tumbling through the night toward Kansas tangled in sleeping bags along with sundry camping gear.

At daylight, Sunday morning, with the wind still whipping us around, we collectively decided to go anyway. We’ve ridden in wind before. How bad can it be? I stuck a wetted finger in the air and announced that the good news was, on the return trip the wind would be at our backs.

By the time we got to Mexican Water, we realized that this was a serious wind and maybe we were being a little foolish. The kind older Navajo gentleman behind the counter at the little (and only) store where we stopped to seek refuge seemed to think so too. He didn’t say anything, he just stood there with a big grin and quietly chuckled when we came in. I’m sure he was thinking, “stupid white people”. He might have been right. Undeterred we forged on.

The wind was so strong at Hubble we didn’t stay long, and the sand storms at Chinle prevented us from seeing anything so we just kept riding. I was correct however that on the return trip we found a bit of relief when, at times, the wind was at our backs. However, when you have trouble keeping up with the tumble weeds “tumbling” down the road at 65 mph, you know the wind is blowing hard. We rode back to Cortez in one huge sandstorm. Needless to say that I didn’t get any painting done. I’m not really into “sand” paintings.

I Knew It All Along

I was just reading an article about a study on the internet that reported men who engaged in an artistic activity of some sort, whether hands on or viewing, are “more likely to be happy with their lives and satisfied with their health than men who don't enjoy the finer things in life”. Heh, heh, heh. I knew it all along. Combine that with riding a motorcycle and it can’t get much better. So there.


With the slump in the economy the last several years the sales of art have slowed considerably, as in having come to a screeching halt. When you paint for a living, that has a huge impact on both ones income and mental outlook. It is real hard to get motivated and inspired to paint when very little of what you have painted in the last couple of years has sold. It is easy to think about finding something else to do like auto mechanics or plumbing or something that is in demand.

I haven’t done much painting lately. Every time I think about starting a new one I think, “what’s the point?” The problem is that an artist has an inner drive to create. Sooner or later that urge has to be satisfied or life in general becomes problematic. The other day I found myself pacing the floor, aimlessly, back and forth. This has happened before. I know the symptoms. Sooner or later it begins to get on my wife’s nerves and she’s been known to snap at me “go do a painting”.

It is well known, among artists anyway, that one should not paint for the money. An artist should paint for his or her own satisfaction. Since not much is selling these days, it is a good opportunity to do just that. One of my most cherished activities is to paint on location. Get out somewhere and paint what is in front of me. It isn’t just the physical act of doing the painting that is so satisfying, it is the entire process of traveling around and searching for a motif and then setting up and capturing the essence of the subject matter.

It’s well known that I like to get out and about from time to time. The reason is, I see so much that inspires me and I come back from such excursions with a renewed sense of desire to paint and write about what I experienced. I’m not a mechanic or a plumber, I’m an artist. I can’t help it. That’s who I am and that’s what I do and I’m happier and healthier for it. Thanks for stopping by. I’ll be in touch.

Small Town America

If you’ve been keeping up you’ll know that my wife Kathy and I rode the Harley back to Charlotte, NC. We had a good trip. In fact it was remarkable and memorable in a number of ways. Riding a motorcycle across the heartland of this great country (and back again) was a real treat.


Our time was limited, unfortunately, so we didn’t get to stop and take a lot of photos or investigate the little road side attractions that are scattered along the highways and byways. One of the advantages (and there are many) of avoiding the interstates is that you get to see Small Town America. Even though these little bergs have a lot in common, they all have their individual personality, which becomes even more obvious as you ride from region to region and state to state. You can tell by the roadside signs, the landscape, the farms, houses and storefronts.

I really enjoyed seeing the old store fronts in these small towns and the signage that adorns them, probably because I have a shop on Main Street and do some signage. There is a lot of character in both. Many are closed up, merely reminders of days gone by.

We saw the devastation of the flooding both going and coming. It was really sad to see partially submerged farm houses and buildings out in the middle of a large body of water. In Metropolis, IL we were stopped several times by yellow caution tape stretched across the streets blocking our way. At one point I sat there astride the idling Harley with water lapping on the pavement just a few feet in front of us and looked around at the neighborhood houses of this small town. Water up to the windows on many, backyard swing sets rising out of the water. Sometimes just the rooftops of vehicles were little islands in what used to be the driveway. Very sad and disheartening.

We took meals in a number of restaurants in which either the waitresses or patrons chatted with us about our trip. We enjoyed some cobbler and coffee in The Old Fort Restaurant while we waited out a rain storm just out of Chattanooga, TN. The waitress was particularly curious about our adventure. There was breakfast in The Round-Up Café in Baxter, KS where some Bikers for Christ invited us to their Sunday service. We had to decline as we needed to move on but I asked them to pray for our safety as we motored off into their quiet morning.

It’s good to be back but I look forward to the next time I get to visit Small Town America. It’s worth the effort.

Observations from the Road

Prairie dogs in Kansas, armadillos in Missouri, and opossums in Tennessee and North Carolina. What do they have in common? Popular road kill in their respective states. Sometimes you notice such things from the back of a motorcycle.

It’s been a good trip so far. Part of the fun of traveling across this great nation of ours, especially when you take the back roads and are riding a motorcycle, is the people you meet. We seem to attract some attention when we pull into a rest stop or a McDonalds to take a break or a motel parking lot. People like to come up, check out the bike and find out where we are from and where we are going. Sometimes we have to excuse ourselves so we can get inside and take care of the business for which we originally stopped.

Met an interesting guy at the Budget Lodge where I got a discount for the night’s room because I am a Vietnam Vet. Thanks. I appreciate that. He wanted to show me a 30 foot lodge pole pine he carved and painted to look like an American flag hanging at rest. Looked pretty good too. He was sure proud of it.

There was an old timer who came over to chat in the parking lot at a McDonalds. He was sporting a Harley shirt and cap and said that he was 80 years old and had been riding up until this year when his son took his motorcycle away from him. He wanted to know if we were part of a group of 400 bikers that were supposed to be passing through on their way to “the wall” in DC. I said we didn’t know anything about it. Said he made that ride a couple of years ago. He would’ve stood there in the hot sun until dark reliving his riding days if his wife hadn’t come over to drag him away.

We managed to get across the Big Muddy but had trouble getting across the Ohio and on to Paducah, KY. We got lost in the flooded neighborhoods of Metropolis, IL until a couple of fellas exchanging some money in a parking lot pointed us in the right direction.

Another guy in a new Camero pulled into the spot next to us at a rest stop in Tennessee. He went on and on about what he did and how he really didn’t like the Camero and thought that we had the better deal. I just smiled and agreed.

We'll be headed home on Friday looking forward to meeting some more folks and seeing what we can from the back of the Harley.

Ready, Set, GO!

If you remember, a couple of weeks ago, I mentioned that I had a bad case of cabin fever and decided to ride the Harley out to see my mother and sister in Charlotte, North Carolina in a couple of weeks. Well…I’ve got help at the shop up lined out and our house sitter is going to feed the gold fish for us while we are away…so we are gone, gone, gone.

The anticipation of the ride has been fun and has helped pass the time. Heck if it had been up to me, I’d have left when I first got the idea. Only problem was that the weather wasn’t real good, what with it still snowing in Colorado and tornados across the rest of the country.

I’ve ridden in some pretty sorry weather before and it’s no fun. I can do it but it makes for a long day. I remember a time, a couple of years ago, along the Lochsa River between Lewiston, Idaho and Lolo Pass just west of Missoula, Montana. Rained the whole way…some 150 miles of it anyway. A good steady, cold rain. Crossed over the summit of Lolo Pass with one gloved hand brushing the snow off of the windshield…and that was in the middle of June. I’d like to do that ride again as I’m pretty sure it is beautiful country. It was just a little hard to tell at the time.

Another time we were up in Canada and we started our day in the rain. This time it was combined with high winds and came down in sheets. Lasted all day too. Oh! I can’t forget just last summer when we got caught in a hail storm in the Snowy Mountains between Laramie and Saratoga, Wyoming on the way back from Sturgis. That might have been the worst I’ve been in on a motorcycle. We got literally pounded with that one.

I know. You are probably asking yourselves why we just don’t pull over and find shelter. That’s a good idea but it always seems we are out in the middle of nowhere when we run into bad weather. There is literally no place to get out of it so we just keep riding on. Besides, it makes for some pretty good tales to tell later.

There have been many more miles when the weather was just absolutely beautiful however and that’s what makes it all worthwhile. Just as in life or doing a painting, sometimes it works out just fine and other times…well you think it should have. Life should be an adventure to be lived…not a problem to be solved. I’ll be in touch, posting daily updates at www.facebook.com/simpsongallery and I'll try to do the same here. Stay tuned.