[Ravensfort] Fwd: The Weekend That Was, And How! (long)

[L T]

--
[ Picked text/plain from multipart/alternative ]
With Terrance's permission this is his account of this weekend and his impression of us.


Hailsa All~!

Arrived back in CC safe and sound about an hour and a half ago, and having showered, offered a blot of thanksgiving that I'm still
alive (more on that in a second), and skimmed through the
weekend's accumulation of e-mail, I'm eager, bright kinfolk, to
make a report of the weekend's events. Or at least try to!

Friday being a school holiday, I headed out for Elaine's memorial a day early, to spend the night at Torvald and Spark's, and convoy up to Huntsville on Saturday with them.

I was about halfway there when things got very, very interesting.
:-) 99 miles to Houston, I hear a quick, loud, "bdrrrp!" from behind me and think my ice chest must've come loose in the back of the truck---it sounded like it's wheels going over the drainage channels in the bed. Pulled off onto the shoulder, checked it, it WAS loose and HAD moved, so I cinched it up a bit and drove on . . . not realizing things were about to get kinda interesting. About six or so miles down the road, past the one stoplight town of Gabano, I hear an *extended,* REALLY loud
"bdRRRRRRRRP!!!! from behind me---and the truck starts to
hammer and shimmy violently. Making my way quickly to the
shoulder, I stop and get out, to find that my driver's side rear tire
has completely delaminated---the tread has sheared completely
off, right down to the exposed threads (beating the crap outta the side of my truck in the process, but that's another matter). Thing is . . . it's not flat! Lost its tread casing, violently, at 80 mph, but not its air. Which is why I can sit hear and type this now, imho.

So, out in the middle of the textbook definition of absolutely
nowhere at all, nothing but fields around me, I pull out my never
before used jack kit . . . and find it's missing a few parts. Like,
oh, the lug wrench. And the doohickey ya lower the spare from
under the truck with. Balls!

I try this, that, and the other---a Gerber multitool does NOT do
much good in flat tire, no tools situations, for those taking notes
here---and the clock ticks on. I begin to get a little worried.
NOBODY stops . . . not that I blame them, really. Those who've
met me understand---how many people are going to stop and
ask if a long-haired, bearded, heavily tattooed 275 pound guy in
a black "Sick Boy Motorcycles" tshirt with a huge skull and
crossbones on the back needs any help, after all? I couldn't even get 'em to make eye contact!

In a matter of minutes, rescue shows up.

The rancher whose spread, the J-Bar, I'm broke down in front of,
as it happens. He looks the situation over, we try a few different
ways to get the spare tire down, and then he says, "heck, my
barn is just over yonder, I'll go make something to do it." Comes
back in about 15 minutes, with a tool he welded up out of nuts
and bolts, in a much larger truck, with his son.

Goosebumps time: his son is a DWARF~!

I get a new tire at the place in Ganado he sends me to, call
Spark, and head on toward Houston. A great time is had there,
despite her walking me into the ground the next morning (gods,
but I've gotten out of shape! back to the iron pile for me!) More on the visit later, I think.

Saturday afternoon we arrive in Huntsville, on the absolutely
gorgeous SCA land, and greet and meet friends old and new. At
some point in the afternoon, I notice my FRONT tire is flat---and
when I pump it back up with Kief's compressor, it's got a
hellacious bulge in it. The Baron (I forget his name, sorry)
shows me the way to the local Discount Tire, where we arrive
just before closing and---another miracle, trust me---there's
enough credit limit left on my Visa for three more tires . . . hey, I
can recognize a hint when I get one. Twice. ;-()


Elaine's memorial was . . . magnificent. Kief spoke words
strong and true, and the minni horn, filled with her own mead, a
last bottle discovered, made the rounds of the crowded circle.
Words spoken in tears and laughter. A kinswoman honored
before the gods . . . "One thing I know that never dies, the good
name one earns in life." She made herself immortal, then, this
young woman too soon gone from the circle of the living. A
dragonship set atop a hollow tree trunk, and filled with
remembrances, is set ablaze. By its light we feast, and share,
and mingle, and dance, and drink . . . oh, ye gods and ancestors, do them SCAdians know how to drink!

I wake up to birdsong, and quietly, trying not to disturb the
sleepers, pack up my gear and head down the road. Eostre's
day, or what the xtians have made of it, anyway, leaves Houston
a ghost town in the fog, and I slide right through.

My heartfelt thanks to Torvald and Spark, for their hospitality, to
Kief, for his help, his kinship, and his words, to the Baron, to his
barony, and to the good folk therein, for honoring our kinsister
and theirs so beautifully . . . and Kief, tell 'em all, whose names
I'll never remember from the other side of so much mead and
beer, that I'll never forget my time among them.

Frith to all, T.
--- End forwarded message ---





---------------------------------
Do you Yahoo!?
The New Yahoo! Search - Faster. Easier. Bingo.