Editors Notebook

editor’s notebook 6/10/21

Sunday I was glad I wasn’t trying to ride either my pony or bicycle on Highway 14. Without a doubt, I would have been spooked by all the traffic and I suspect most if not all of the horses I have ridden would also have been spooked and tried to escape.

That day Highway 14 didn’t fit the description of a lazy country highway. For sure it wasn’t a place for the pokey Sunday driver I have become.

Sunday morning the 28th annual Tour Nebraska cruise brought more than 450 vehicles into this area. Tour participants were scheduled to leave Hastings in two waves, with about a 15 minute gap between the waves. The first cars were to reach Guide Rock by 8 a.m. Sunday and continue on to Burr Oak, Mankato, Superior, Nelson and other communities before concluding that afternoon back in Hastings.

To participate, the drivers had to be driving a vehicle at least 30 years old. Had I wanted to, I could have joined the tour with my 1971 Chevrolet pickup and in only three years the Chevrolet Blazer I was riding in Sunday morning will be old enough to join the tour.

Thanks to advance publicity, people gathered along the route to watch the parade of vehicles. As I travelled south on Highway 14, I enjoyed seeing the parade watchers as much as I enjoyed seeing the parade vehicles and there were some dandy vehicles. I didn’t consider the vehicles to be old but had there been an opportunity, I would have accepted an invitation to take a close up look.

The only vehicles I consider to be old are those made before I was born.

Had my father not sold it to a collector from Colorado, I may have had a suitable vehicle with which to participate in the cruise. While I was in high school, he traded four new tires for a running Model A Ford. While the vehicle was not licensed, he did let me take it for a short cruise. At the time he said it would probably be my only opportunity to drive a Model A. After my cruise he tucked it away in one of his storage places.

My father was a good marketer and his plan worked. A few months late a gasoline station customer spotted the old A which appeared been forgotten, made a deal and trailered it to Colorado. There I suspect it was restored and is now part of someone’s prized antique car collection.

In the short distance I traveled south on Highway 14, I saw people parked at county road intersections, on hilltops and in the highway right-of-way watching the parade.

Bringing up the parade rear were several motor vehicle “ambulances.” Not the kind of ambulances used to transport people but trucks pulling trailers on which they could haul disabled vehicles back to Hastings.

The Tour Nebraska group was travelling north. Later in the day I encountered a string of motorcycles heading south. They hadn’t sent out advance publicity and since they were in motion I didn’t get to ask where they were from or where they were going. They had picked a nice day for their ride.

Just like the first group of automobiles, this group also contained interesting and uncommon motorcycle-type vehicles I would like to have learned more about.

Throughout the day, vehicles hauling boats and camping gear kept the highway a buzz. With the temperature 20 or 30 degrees warmer than it was the weekend before, Lovewell Lake was a popular destination.

After living beside the highway and monitoring highway traffic for the first 24 years of my life, I still have an interest in highway traffic.

Some people find the highway noise objectionable but for the most part I enjoy the traffic and miss getting to talk with the travellers like I once did.

Had I been working at my father’s gasoline station on Sunday, there would have been opportunities to visit with some of the travellers.

Not nearly all would have stopped but I suspect some tour participants would have been making racing-style pit stops. With the drivers in a hurry to catch up with the tour, I wouldn’t have been able to ask anyone a lot of questions, but from the bits and pieces of conversation squeezed into the fueling stops, I would have learned a lot about the trip.

Once had a group of motorcycle riders stop at the station. I suspected they were members of the Hell’s Angels. I didn’t ask for their membership card, but they fit the gang descriptions I had read. They filled the station drive to overflowing and I was pumping gasoline as fast as I could. I’m not aware they stole anything, but there were so many swarming all over the place I was helpless to control them. They went where they wanted and did what they wanted. I suspect they could have cleaned out the station store while keeping me occupied at the pump island.

The riders had camped at Lovewell Lake and apparently rode into Superior for supper and perhaps some liquid refreshment.

It was after dark when I heard the roar of the cycles as the riders crossed the Republican River and started their run for the hill. Not wanting to deal with them again, I killed the lights and locked the station doors.