We’d been pounded by yet another winter hammering of snow, which lasted all day long on Thursday. When they were originally forecasting the storm, it was going to finish up Thursday night and be all done on Friday. Well, that worked just great for me – it meant I’d have a nice and smooth ride out. Ahh, but as the departure day got closer, the forecasts changed, and we were now in store for something that would not only last most of Thursday, but which would run through the night time, and then curl back around and hammer us again on Friday. Wonderful!
And sure enough; the storm was waiting for me on Friday morning. Checking the news stations, there was a nasty rollover on 495 so I opted to delay my departure for an hour and a half to let that clear. Once I was on the road, the visibility was pretty bad, the conditions were even worse, but the good news was that folks had either opted to stay home, or were already at work, for the highways weren’t too congested. Or maybe it had something to do with all the vehicles that were in the median, or off in the embankments? My two favorites were the 18-wheeler, and the Mustang (which had clearly been going too quickly when it plowed (pun intended) it’s way about 20 feet straight off the road into snow that was almost as deep as it was.)
Passing into NY, the snow abated, and it even looked like the sky was going to clear off at one point, but the clouds quickly regained their control and it was a solid grey ride out. Adding a new level of excitement, the winds were incredible, and while there was no snow falling from the sky, there was plenty of snow along the plowed mounds running along either side. The wind was having a field day with this stuff, creating solid walls of white which were almost impossible to see through, and causing long stretches of roadway which were covered in several inches of snow. The one cool thing, was seeing the wind whipping off to the sides and occasionally creating whirling cyclones of snow which darted up to and then and back down from the sides of the road.
Another thing the wind did was demonstrate just how non-aerodynamic my Jeep is. I already considered it a box on wheels, but the wind was knocking it back and forth like the lightweight, canvas-covered thing it is. We’re having some fun, now!
So the miles are ticking off, my body is cramping up, and I’m getting more and more anxious to get there. I’m getting rather thirsty…my foot is getting heavier on the accelerator…and then King starts texting me that he’s already cracking beers at Mark and Mary’s. Awesome! Now I need to go even faster! Thankfully, as I closed in on Olean, the roadways got better and traffic moved pretty well. I managed to knock the trip off in 7.5 hours, which wasn’t bad, considering.
No sooner had I walked into the door than Mary is handing me a beer. And not just any beer, it was a 16-ouncer! Mark laughs and said he got them because they’ll be harder to hide. Ha, we shall see about that!
King was there and sure enough; had a cold frosty in his hand. Man, it was good to be in town! The rest of the day/evening was spent kicking back and saying hello to folks either via text, or who stopped by in person (Zig will love his stained glass window, Carol!). The beers flowed well, as did the Kahlua I brought for Mark and Mary (and which I told myself repeatedly not to drink, but as soon as Mary brought the shot glasses out…”Yeah, let’s do a shot!”. We stayed up way too late, laughed our asses off for many an hour and finally turned in well after midnight.
The next morning, I tallied up the damage I’d done to the pounders (almost a half-dozen…not shabby at all!) and then set to getting the day’s plan into motion. Basically, the plan consisted of trying to clear my head from the night before (damn Kahlua!!) and keep folks apprised of my timeline. Bryan (the Sherrif) stopped by to say hello and it was great to see him. Word on the street is that he’s coming to the Cinco de Roasto in May! After a bit, Bryan had to mosey on his way, but then King called and said he’d be at Mickey’s, so I met him there, got a pleasant surprise in that Mike, the Black Knight was there, and caught up with Tommy, too.
From there, it was off to the V, which was having a clambake that afternoon. It was a great opportunity to see most of the folks gathered in one location. The drinks flowed, the laughter ensued, and a great time was had by all.
When it was time to leave, we helped straighten up a bit and then headed for the door. Arriving back at Mark and Mary’s, there was time in the day to knock out a couple more of the pounders…and a couple of shots of that damned Kahlua.
The next morning, it dawned on me that I had been severely remiss in my duties. I’d only hidden one can so far - and that was from Friday night! I hadn’t hidden a single can on Saturday! Well, we shall have to remedy that in a hurry.
Heading downstairs, I went to where the box of empties had been…but they weren’t there. Huh. Well, they were probably moved out of the kitchen, just to clean things up a bit. I’m sure they’re in the…nope, not in the shop. Outside the door, on the patio? Nope. In the shed? Nope. I asked about the whereabouts of the cans and was answered with smirks and shrugs. At this point, a bit of panic began to set in. How can I hide cans if they’ve hidden my ammo!??!
Well, I didn’t have a ton of time to putter around looking for them, as I had to meet up with Ski and King and join them on their weekly tour of the clubs in the area. (As it turned out, Ski was not able to join us, but King and I did make several stops and had ourselves a decent afternoon.)
Back to the house to clean up and then it was off to Barb & Jerry’s for dinner – and what a dinner! We all stuffed ourselves, talked stories of times past, and admired the hell out of their new house. While all of these discussions were being bandied about, I thought it would be a great time to hide a can there. Hell, I haven’t had an opportunity to hide a can at their house since their bonfire parties, from years ago! Ahh, but Barb was too sharp. No sooner had I nonchalantly removed a can from the tabletop to tuck into my shirt for later, when Barb piped up and asked if I was planning on hiding that can. Damn! Well, long story short, I did manage to hide a can, but Barb found it almost immediately, and texted me to say so. I will have to do much better, the next time.
And with that, it was back to the house to round out the weekend. A few more inquiries from me regarding the missing cans, a few more non-committal replies (along with an ominous “you’ll find out soon enough”, and we called it a night.
I was up early the next morning to hit the road. As I went to put my boots on, I felt a familiar blockage in the toe area of my right boot. Upending it, sure enough; out popped a crushed can. Hmph, the old “crushed can in the footwear” gag – Amateurs!
Out the door and on the road, I was making good time…and watching the outside-temperature reading on my dashboard. Egads. -11 outside! I had the heat blasted in my Jeep for most of the early morning, and that was just to keep the interior comfortable.
Before too long, the sky began to brighten, signaling the coming sunrise. Naturally, the return trip (east) places me driving directly into the sun, so just as it began to peek out from above the horizon, I flipped the visor down...
…and was immediately aware of something falling out from the visor, hitting me squarely in the chest and bouncing into my lap. What the? What the hell was up on top of my visor? It looks shiny and blue…and crushed…and an awful lot like an empty Bud Light pounder can!! Bastards! They turned the tables on me! Why…that’s….that’s…that’s Brilliant!
Realizing that this one can could certainly not be the extent of their wickedness, I flipped the passenger visor down a bit. Sure enough; there sat another can! Oh, those wretched pranksters! How dare they prevent me from my appointed task, only to revisit the game upon me!
I did a brief (as best I could, while sailing down the highway) survey of my surroundings and located more cans in my glove box, in the netting on each door, as well as a couple more tucked into my workboots in the back. They’d hidden 8 cans in total…9, if you count the boot. That wasn’t bad at all, but the truly impressive aspect was the fact that they’d hidden the cans on me and then placed them in my Jeep while I was asleep. Bravo!
So as you can tell, my hidden can tally for the weekend was depressingly low. I did manage to hide three, all told. One is a “gimme” and I expect it will be found before too long. The second one is pretty good, and may not be found for some time. And the last one…yes, that is my masterpiece. I consider it as bringing things to a new level. Even better; I did not cheat in any way. (I need to be careful in the hints I give, for I realize they peruse the blog as well.) But suffice to say that the can is not crushed or malformed in any way.
And there you have it; the President’s Day weekend Olean trip, 2014.
How about some pics?
Just down the road from Mark & Mary’s house, the guy who owns this farm had a ginormous snowman made out of plastic-sheathed hay rolls. A construction cone for a nose, Christmas wreathes for eyes, and long wooden planks for arms. Not bad!
Food! Anyone that’s made the trip out there knows that Mark and Mary treat you like family…and they feed you like royalty!
Here’s the chair that my fat ass broke. I was playing with Isaac and I think he tossed a balloon at me and when I tried to twist around and catch it…well…let’s just say the chair was not up to the task.
This next pic is self-explanatory. More (yep; more!) bacon-wrapped chicken, frosties, and that damned Kahlua.
Here’s a pic from the V on Saturday evening. I’m not sure whose cammo beanie it is that I’m wearing, or why it was so funny at the time, but we sure are laughing pretty hard for some reason.
And speaking of amazing sights, I had to snap a couple of pics of a different farm down the road from them. Coming around the corner on the road and seeing this great expanse just stretching out in front of me, with more snow coming down, was just amazing.
This next pic…whoops…I can’t show you that one. I snapped a pic of the can I hid on Friday night. Moving on…
Oops, and the same goes for this next pic, I can’t show that one either, as that’s of the can which I believe takes things to a new level. Let’s see if I have any more pics I CAN show…
Ahh yes, the can in the boot. It was pic-worthy at 5:45 in the morning.
Brrr! That’s the outside temp on Monday morning as I was leaving Olean…
One of the offending hitchhikers tucked above the passenger’s visor…
Oh yeah – this pic is not a good representation, but something else that was very cool to see on the way home. The air was so cold that the streams and rivers that ran alongside were giving off “steam” and in a number of places, it was thick enough to capture the sunlight as it broke over the tops of mountains, basically looking like perfectly vertical rainbows – they had no start and no end but were just straight lines. Very cool!
The obligatory pic of the cans in the boots…
I took this last pic as I was crossing over the Berkshire Connector – the mile-long bridge that crosses over the Hudson River. The river is frozen over, but there’s a track in the middle that’s broken up by passing freighters and barges. On my way out, there was an awesome sight of a tanker pushing its way northward through the shattered ice and I’d wished I’d had the opportunity to get a pic of it. On the way home, there was another tanker but it was further up the river, not to mention I was now on the southbound side and didn’t have as good a view of it. Oh well. If you click on the pic to open it up, you’ll see what looks like a tiny red dot above the railing. That’s the smoke stack from the tanker.
That’s it! I had a great time and can’t wait to get out there again! Thanks to Mark and Mary for once again; “putting me up, and putting up with me”!
Ride Hard, Take Chances
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