George and Eric's Motorcycle Adventures: The sun comes through

We awoke with frost on our motorcycles, mixed information on whether the pass out of Yellowstone was for cars with snow tires only and temperatures in the twenties. The easy route would be out of the park on the west side and then travel south to Victor, Idaho and across to Jackson. But it was crystal clear (our first day of good weather) and to miss Yosemite and the Tetons was really out of the question. So we headed out, with the thought that we might have to retrace our steps in the event we hit icy or snowy hardpack.
Time was of course a factor. Friday was the release date for the “new” iphone and George had located a store in Jackson Hole that had this new model. As avid readers will know, George will not miss an updated iphone and this one sounded particularly interesting, what with fingerprint technology that could log you in – instead of having to type in those pesky numbers. So off we went.
Within thirty minutes, traffic ground to a halt. I immediately suspected an animal. For those of you who have not been to National Parks, the unwritten rule is that if you see a bison, goat, bear or other four legged creature, you are entitled to immediately stop – in the middle of the roadway to take the obligatory picture. You are not required to get out of the car or even pull over to let others who may have seen animals before go by. No, it is your right to hog the road and bring traffic to a complete stop. The picture can be taken from the passenger side window so as to minimize physical movement of the occupants.
And that was it! Forty five minutes later (after a crawl that was no faster than a brisk walk) we arrived to see two elk grazing on the side of the road. Each car would dutifully pull up, stop, crank down the window and take a picture of the beasts before resuming travel. I wanted to ride down the median strip, but the unpredictably of the drivers ahead prevented me (they are apt to turn left while signaling right or even make a sudden u turn). Enraging.
As we headed south out of the park, we saw meadows filled with numerous warm springs. It was cold so the hot air from the springs created smoke when it hit the cold air. It was magnificent and worthy of a picture, but we were on a schedule.
Let me stop right here, because there are some things about George, apart from his love of technology, that are quite endearing and worthy of mention. I simply forgot to write about them earlier.
When you go out to dinner with George, he will often select french fries as opposed to rice or a baked potato. I have seen him order french fries close to a hundred times. And when he asks for fries, he will always say: “Could you make them extra crispy?”
This request is interesting for several reasons. First, the request is made earnestly, almost with a child like anticipation of the treat ahead. Yet when the food arrives, I always ask George if the fries are extra crispy. “No, not this time,” is the usual response. Yet this never deters George from making the same request at the next meal. It takes real courage to put yourself out like this, hoping that maybe this one time, the fries will be so crispy and crunchy that you can hear them crack as you eat them. It just never happens.
Second, does George really think that, in response to his request, the fry chef at the diner/roadhouse cafe where we are eating is going to depart from his or her usual regimen, and just rustle up a batch of extra crispies for one customer? I don't know what might be involved in making fries extra crispier than the presumably normal crispy ones served to other customers, but I imagine that it might involve some departure from the normal frying regime. What leads George to conclude that such an effort would be expended on an item that is, well, pretty ordinary? We are not talking about filet mignon or ahi tuna; this plate of fries is about the least expensive item the restaurant cooks. George, my friend, I am in complete admiration of your search for a perfect fry and I hope to be there when the server arrives with your plate and says: “We made them extra crispy. Just for you.”
There is another part of George’s routine/schtick that I admire. He always introduces himself on the phone. When Pam at the Jackson Hole AT & T store answers the phone: “AT & T, Pam speaking,” the response is never: “Hi, did you get the new iphones in today?” It is always: “Hi, Pam, this is George Gardner.” There is sometimes a pause, as if Pam should recognize the name. Then: “How are you today?” Then: “I was hoping you might be able to tell me if you had a fresh delivery of the new iphones and if I could reserve one?”
I am not sure that this approach creates a greater likelihood that Pam will in fact reserve the iphone, but I am convinced this is the polite way to navigate customer service. Pam is not just the person who can provide the iphone, but a human being. Once Pam has introduced herself, we should do the same. And what is wrong with taking an extra moment, in the midst of what is always a frenetic day (the day the new iphone comes out), to ask this human being how she is actually doing? We can all learn something from this approach and I am determined to follow it in the future. Amazingly, this dialogue occurs even when George has been on hold for ten minutes or when he has spent fifteen minutes navigating the voice mail maze.
To return to the trip, we skipped Old Faithful and headed down to the Tetons. The ride from the north to the Tetons is something no one should miss. As I believe I mentioned, I used to do some mountaineering during college summers in the Tetons. (Never very successfully.) What is so magnificent about this range is what we call “local relief.” Not only are the mountains high, but they rise to 14,000 feet from a perfectly flat floor that is at about 7,000 feet. They just go straight up from what I believe is called an alluevian plain. It’s very rare and make these mountains truly magnificent. George and I resolved that next summer, we will return, hire a guide and get to the top of the Grand.
Thankfully, we arrived in Jackson Hole with plenty of time to effectuate the iphone purchase. I dropped George off at his hotel and looked at the time. It was 4.15 pm and I was 483 miles from our townhouse in Dillon, Colorado. I took the roof panels off the Jeep and decided to go for it. There were really not a lot of options. After Rock Springs, Wyoming, a truly dreadful place, there is a stretch of about 200 plus miles where there is literally nothing. Only occasional small towns, oil (shale) extractors that do not require human beings, no hotels and desert. I was stuck behind the same truck for about 100 miles at one point. Too risky to pass and the Jeep, while new and very comfortable, lacks the pick up of Honda Civic. I got home at 2 a.m., almost seven hundred miles in one day.
I enjoyed this trip. I always like the times I spend with my friend, and I missed the fact that we did not have working intercoms and could not talk on the bikes. Despite that I give him a fair amount of grief (and receive a health amount back in kind), George is simply one hilarious person to be around and someone I care about him very much. I look forward to future adventures. On this trip, I particularly liked the day we arrived in West Yellowstone, when we both came close to freezing. I cannot explain why I liked that day, but it picked me up. This trip was not relaxing; too much tension about the weather – this was no one’s fault. The weather was, quite simply, miserable. So where next? I really like Colorado and there is still a lot there we have not explored, but I am not sure I can convince George. We need to do more hiking on these trips and to plan better for hiking. The hiking days are almost always the best days.
Thanks for reading this, faithful reader(s). Until next year! And thank you, George.

P.s. A couple of photos of the bikes and of us.