I left work early Friday afternoon so Mike and I could ride our motorcycle again, after deciding that the upcoming week-end weather forecast was for much cooler and rainy weather. We thought this might be our last chance to ride for a while. It was a bit windy, but riding on the back roads, the wind didn’t bother us to much. Actually, Friday was a gorgeous day in Kentucky. We stayed pretty close to home, and I took several pictures.
One of the first places we went was to a little side road in Madison County that dead ends at the creek. The part of Paint Lick Creek that ran around the small farm where Mike grew-up, was a great place to stop, take pictures and listen as he reminisced. He told of playing on the tree covered hillsides, in the creek and around the farm that we could see from our vantage point. The following is a story about a shotgun, cowboys and Indians that he told me today. Too funny not to share.
After watching several Westerns with shoot-em-up cowboys and fighting Indians, Mike decided to try his hands with a shot-gun. He was somewhere around the age of ten. His mom was at work in the factory, his dad was on another farm down the road, working. Mike took the loaded shot-gun from its resting place inside the house, jumped onto the old mare that the family used as a work horse, and went riding down the woods next to the creek. The woods were on a hillside.
As he looked for Indians to shoot, he spotted movement just ahead and pulled up the shot-gun, pointed it in the direction of the Indian and pulled the trigger. At the moment that he pulled the trigger, the gun resting against his shoulder kicked back and made a loud BOOM! The blast scared the horse, who began jumping and bucking; Mike landed in a heap on the ground. The shot-gun’s barrel went deep into the damp ground and immediately filled with dirt, mud and damp leaves. After pulling himself up and off the ground, he saw that he was alright, other than a really sore shoulder; he pulled the gun out of the ground. His first thought was how his father was going to kill him!
Mike spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning the gun the best that he could. Afterwards, he put the gun right back where he got it and never told a soul what happened until about ten years later.
I enjoyed listening to Mike’s stories, but soon we moved on and rode over to Garrard County and then Lincoln and Boyle counties. When it came time to stop and rest, we stopped at the Country Diner in Lancaster.
We met two of Lancaster’s finest citizens while eating at the diner. I didn’t get their names, but I did get their picture. Maybe they will leave a comment in the comment section and tell us who they are and about their town and job.
Here are a couple of the scenery pictures from our ride.
Mike as he is looking across the creek into the wooded area of the shoot out! Maybe I should say the shoot off!!