Is that a shit truck I’m following?

We left Oro Valley and headed towards the mountains. Mount Lemon is the highest peak in the range at 9,157 feet. We crossed the mountain a little further south on Redington Road. We winded through the suburbs of East Tucson until sprawl gave way to property with acreage. Soon we found ourselves back on the dirt and in the mountains. I told Michael I wanted to get some pictures of us riding; most of the pictures I have are of the motorcycle or of the scenery, but none of us riding through the scenery. We stopped at a place where a lot of switch backs made it possible to get a good view. Since we were going to be there for a bit, Michael immediately went to the bathroom on the side of the road. I too needed to go, but women don’t have it so easy. Being an Alaskan though also means we aren’t shy to go when we need to go. No sooner do I have my white butt in the wind when a car turns the corner. It was a cop.

Apparently I’m a little “rough around the edges” – cop warns me not to pee in public.

The nice officer ran our plates and saw we were not wanted in twelve states for indecent exposure. The officer then approached me to let me know that Arizona does have restrooms, and I probably should be careful not to hang my butt out on the road. “It might offend people.” I tried not to snicker, but it was hard since Michael was snickering in the background. He let me go with a warning and directions to the closest outhouse. I suggested to the nice officer that he need not tell all his buddies about my butt scuttle during the next donut break. He grinned wide and said, “What happens on Redington Road stays on Redington Road.” I waved goodbye to the nice cop. As soon as I heard the car, I tried to crab walk/scuttle behind my motorcycle – a sight the cop probably won’t forget soon (probably scarred the guy for life). He pulls in behind us and turns on his flashing lights. Damn! I grin at Michael and he shakes his head. I point out it could easily have been him that was caught. We wonder if the cop would have bothered to stop if it was him. Michael recalled the last time we were riding not far from here we were patted down by the border patrol on account that we looked like smugglers.

Me waving goodbye to the ticket I never got

As we were leaving, the loose gravel took Michael by surprise, and the next thing we knew he had slide down on the bike taking a corner. He got the bike back up, with little damage – just that damn license plate holder needed to be repaired. We were on the road again. We continued up the mountain and over the top, the road degrading into rocky bumps that are not recommended in a two wheel drive vehicle. We passed the outhouse about ten miles up; we didn’t need to stop. We took a bagel break at the top and enjoyed the squirrel-free view.

Michael repairs the license plate holder on his bike

It took us longer to get to highway 83 than we anticipated; we had a dinner date in Tubac. We skirted through the town of Sahuarita and rolled in to Tubac with 30 minutes to spare. A quick shower and change of clothes at Tubac Secret Garden B&B, and we walked into Elivera’s only five minutes late. We finally hit the pavement in Benson. We pulled in right behind a large dump truck. I’m riding and note the smell and then clumps fall out of the back. We swerve to avoid them. It was a large dump truck carrying manure through the farming community. The truck continued to poop for miles; it was an obstacle course.

We met Foursquare friends Gary and Susan for dinner. Gary and I have been exchanging comments for almost two years now, and we thought it was a fine time to finally meet. Neither one of them looked like axe murders and we had a great dinner. We all ordered different flavors of margaritas and moles, and finished the evening with a shot of tequila. A great way to end the day.

Foursquare friends Gary and Susan meet us in Tubac for drinks

Today we are off in the desert to get coffee in Arivaca, see Kitt Observatory, and make it home by dark.