Article - SAVING 'EM, Vol. 1.1, A Cautionary Tale by Red Herring

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Author: Peter Goering

Created: 2024 August 27

Updated: 2024 August 27

It was something of a lark. Maybe just an excuse to chuck work for the day and go on an adventure. But you never know what you might find while looking for something else...

I was looking for an early 60's pickup to replace my aging and failing truck. Craig said he knew of an interesting candidate. It was out in the desert and a bit of a drive. Ok. Road trip!

Craig was waiting when I pulled into his driveway, and waved me to park. We were taking his beater. My truck was not adventure worthy, unless one wishes an excursion that might include a tow truck.

Away we went, down state roads with which I am loosely familiar, though I should have started dropping breadcrumbs once we turned off the highway. Really.

The washboarded, county-maintained road (a generous description) quickly became a dozer-scarred, two-track cow path. For miles and miles. I was soon disoriented, if not outright lost. Once-familiar mountains and prominences slewed around into unrecognizable and useless landmarks as we proceeded across the yucca-strewn, triple sec-dry, yellow hills. But the weather was pristine, solstice sunshine.

We arrived at the location, and indeed, there sat the promised vintage truck. The owner wasn't in sight, but a quick walk-around and peek under the hood gave enough of a hint of its condition to make an informed decision.

Craig suggested we continue down the trail and visit an old friend of his. Up and down hills, across rarely-running arroyos, and past some sketchy looking tarpaper-on-popsicle stick homesteads we rolled. Ever seen The Hills Have Eyes? A sharp turn to the left to avoid a purpose-built and rather intimidating barrier, and we were there. Introductions made, we were hospitably welcomed into a large, snake infested, and attack-dog patrolled compound.

Rather off-handedly (my first unheeded warning), Craig told our host that he wanted to show me the Guzzi. The Guzzi? I should have been on my guard when I noticed the half-hidden twinkle in Craig's eyes (my second unheeded warning).

Note to self: NEVER play poker with Craig!

Down another trail we went. Or was this a rabbit hole?

Call me the Mad Hatter, but there sat an Eldorado in all her weather-blasted glory: Sun-munched seat, fuel tank with its sloughing, black enamel skittering away in the wind, and wires shedding their parti-colored skins. No surprise that it was last tagged in 1987. Thirty-seven unloved years in open abandon. But it was VERY complete and NOT a rusted heap. They don't get much rain out there.

Craig finally came clean. He'd had his eye on this gem for a while with me in mind (my third and final unheeded warning). He had zero interest in it. He's a Beemer/Triumph Triple guy. With an evil chuckle, he allowed that he is always happy to help a friend. Especially if they are already burdened with too many project bikes. But I'm a sucker for a good bike deal. I should have kept in mind the adage One more good deal and we're out of business!

Needless to say, we returned a few days later with the Guzzi/Norton Rescue trailer and I made a deal, Craig selflessly serving as guide back into the Wasteland, still wearing a wicked grin and determined to complete my ruin. And help load.

It just goes to show, you never know what you'll find when you're looking for something else. And trust your friends. Except at poker.

Next up: A cruel and merciless condition assessment. This might get ugly.