248 Miles
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| Day 6 Trip Map |
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Up early as usual, but I'd committed to getting Betsy an oil change and replacing a burnt out bulb in my right faring spotlight so I hung around the motel until 8:30 then rode over to Merced Powersports the local Kawasaki dealer. Pulling in from the road asking dealers to provide service immediately usually brings 1 of 2 reactions: one is "no way," the other is "you bet."
The "no way" answer usually comes from a service guy, even the service manager sometimes, because he has a lot of work in the shop he has committed completion upon. It's really a very poor business decision. I can guarantee you the managing partner/owner wouldn't look at it that way. Assuming the needed service is relatively routine and not overly time consuming, the request should be looked at as "found money." The dealers are going to get the business they earn and deserve from the local marketplace. Whenever one of us shows up this is money coming in from an outside source that was just "found." Only a foolish business person would fail to recognize that and jump at the opportunity.
Merced Powersports made the proper decision throughout. No one ever remotely looked as if they didn't understand what needed to be done.
After the service Betsy and I rode by Castle Airbase continuing my little 50 year nostalgia trip. The base is now civilian, but, in the day, trained all combat crews for the B-52 and the KC-135. It was a big base doing a big job.
I related a story about one of our ORIs (Operational Readiness Inspection) and how they were a big deal. In another one, many months later, I was "serving time" assigned as a guard for ORIs. The 93rd Bomb Wing Sergeant Major had put me "on this duty" to mend fences with the Air Police Squadron. Anyway...this was my first experience with the guard assignment and it cracked me up. When the alert was called we bailed out of whatever we were doing (in my case it was my office) and reported to our duty stations. I was handed an M-1 carbine (we obviously didn't have the new stuff) complete with a clip of live ammo with first round in the clip painted a bright red. We were then given two instructions relative to this load out: 1) we were not to change the order of the rounds in the clip, and 2) we could shoot all the people entering our guard area we wanted as long as the first round was red whenever we turned the weapons back in. Now that's the non-Marine U.S. military for you.
As to why I got the guard duty, that was just a poor decision by an A1C Air Policeman on the front gate one Sunday morning (about 3:00am). I had this buddy, Dewey, who was a re-upped A1C who worked in Finance (Payroll specialist). Dewey and I came through the gate at the time noted none too worse for wear. If you fail to grasp that subtlety, we were pretty much knee-walking, commode-hugging drunk. All we wanted was our racks and about 10 hours of sleep. The A1C air policeman was on duty that night, and should have known better, since he, too, was a re-upped airman. He was evidently bored or wanted to impress the young A3C on duty with him, so he decided he would give us a hard time. He started pulling BS about putting us on report and just basically gave us a hard time and chewed our butts. Unfortunately he'd picked on two who should have been left alone. On Monday morning his pay records went to Thule, Greenland and his personnel records went to Elmsdorf AFB, Alaska. I'm sure the policies have changed somewhat these days, but back then if they didn't have your pay records you got $5 per payday (paid every two weeks) until the missing records were found. We heard later his car was repossessed during all this and that the AP squadron was going to "get" us. We sort of got around the word that this could happen to the entire AP squadron and that threat kind of disappeared. The Sergeant Major, however, got involved and smoothed over the ruffled feathers agreeing with the senior AP non-com that he'd make sure some "pain" was passed our way. So...I got put on ORI guard duty. Never did figure out why Dewey wasn't also assigned but, as I said, he was a lifer and I wasn't. Plus, Sergeant Major's payroll records could be misplaced too, huh?
Anyway...fifty-year-old memories abounded as I stopped by the old base.
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| Castle AFB Control Tower |
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There is an Air Museum just off the main base area now with a bunch of planes parked around. I didn't have time to stop but did snap a couple of pictures.
SR-71 Blackbird. This was a bad boy. He could fly higher and faster than anything in the Air Force.
B-24 Liberator
B-17 Flying Fortress
Given the base mission before decommissioning I was surprised not to see a B-52 (Buff) and a KC-135 tanker not front and center. As I drove away I saw both parked in the area, but the Buff certainly deserves front and center on anyone's list. It is far and away the most effective and long lasting heavy bomber ever produced by anyone on the planet.
I have never figured out my "friends" at Garmin. I'd created a route past Castle then on up Hwy 99 through Sacramento to I-80 and on to Reno to visit my good friends Joe and Mary W. There is, evidently, a "motorcycle" mode that is automatically recognized whenever my GPS is positioned on its holder on the bike. It decided to reroute me to a more motorcycle "friendly" route and the next thing I know I'm going down country roads with stop signs or red lights about every half-mile. Thinking they (Garmin) knew something I didn't I blindly followed my orders until I finally grew so exasperated I was ready to choke the bitch saying "recalculating" about every ten minutes. Near Sacramento, it decided to re-route me around the heavy center of town...by routing through what turned out to be parking lots moving at about 10 mph. I finally got to I-80 and managed to find Joe and Mary's house and the promise of not having to deal with that loud mouthed disembodied voice I hate so much.
View on I-80 from the Truckee Pass looking toward Nevada to the east.
At Joe's house Betsy got a real treat: her own room. This is good.
