Back to The Kids at Meridian High A-F
Eric Crawford
I
didn't remember anything about Eric Crawford until I got an email from him a
long
while back. His picture wasn't included in my '64 yearbook so I couldn't even
place his face until I found him in a group photo and a light finally came on in
my head about who he was. From the humor of his emails, it is obvious that he is
one of those people that I wish I'd known better.
What follows is a story that Eric told about a motorcycle adventure with Mike Bernier in the summer of 2000...
Well now, no one was killed or injured nor were animals harmed in this
experiment in adult male gratification. Some distilleries were in
overtime production, however.
Couple of weeks ago, Eric loaded the Valkyrie into the trailer and drove
over 1000 miles (yes, Eric is a saint) to Mike's house in Ohio. When
Eric arrived Mike was sober and bathed. This would be the last time for
either. Of course after a long drive through blinding rain, what would
a guy do. We packed up the motorcycles and left within 2 hours of
arriving.
First we drove around the area while Mike pointed out many of the sights
(yawn) and then we twisted the throttles and headed south. With no
itinerary or map and no timetable we had only to find a place to sleep
each night. We rode to the Ohio river and stopped at the town of
Ripley. There we stayed in an old house run by Glenn and his wife,
Whatshername. We had to share a very large room with several beds.
Mike snored so loudly that the Sheriff came by twice to see if someone
had smuggled a steam locomotive up to the second flow of the 150 year
old house.
Glenn and whatshername run the place and Glenn has had several
careers. Each one pretty well ended when he told he boss to "shove
it". Glenn has had his ups and downs with boarding guests and every
once in a while he has to tell someone to "shove it". Actually, almost
all of Glenn's stories ended up with him telling somebody to "shove
it". Mike wrote the line down, planning to use it in the future. Since
this was the first time that Mike's new bike had slept outdoors by
itself, Glenn agreed to let Mike haul down all the mattresses in the
place and put them around his bike (and Eric's) in case they got sleepy
and fell over. (See picture.)
We ate at a typical Ohio river diner. Everything was fried, including
Marty the cook who was on his third bottle of Sloe Gin for the day. It
was good cookin'.
Next morning we set out after Glenn and whatshername cooked a breakfast
of all the sugar they had in the house. Whatshername wore a dust rag on
her head so Mike would not make fun of her bald spot. (See picture)
We rode off to the general good wishes of the towns literate souls, both
of them. Most of our days were spent just riding around, back and forth
across the river. After a while Eric got tired of swimming across
carrying his bike so he finally sprung for the $2 to cross on the ferry.
(See picture of Mike asking the captain if he can sit at his table for
dinner.)
We really didn't have any mishaps except when we drove off road to
investigate a covered bridge. We road those 800 behemoths up the side
of a mountain to a spot that was all loose gravel and slanted. Eric
eventually tipped his bike over (no harm) and Mike helped him by
laughing for about an hour.
In Marietta, Ohio we spent the night at the Buckley house where Mike
tried to push Eric's bike over while parked in the front. (See
picture) Once again, there was only one bedroom available and it was
rented only after Eric took out a full page ad in the Marietta Gazette
to proclaim for the 4th time on the trip that he and Mike were NOT GAY!
During the night, many of the fabled church bells of Marietta were sent
to ringing by the incessant and mighty snoring of Mike Bernier. The
owners claimed several thousand dollars of structural damage due to the
racket.
We rode extensively through the back roads of West Virginia and
experienced many days of fine riding. Mike, ever the gentleman,
exercised a pick-up line on several of the WV beauties that he
encountered on the back roads. He would smile nicely then compliment
them. "Nice Tooth!" he would say.
We stayed a night at a very nice house in WV where the lady that cooked
and sent us to our rooms was name (maiden name) Connie Williams! It was
the house where she grew up and Eric slept in that room and Mike slept
in the other end of the house. But that night Eric was again awakened
by loud snorts and snores even though Mike was far away behind several
closed doors. Every time he would drift off into a sound sleep that
damned snoring would start up again and wake him up. (It was so loud
that even after Eric returned home to FL, Mike's snoring still would
wake him up on occasion.)
In the morning Connie took a picture of Mike and Eric before they roared
off. (See picture.) However, her camera was very old and poor and it
made Eric look overweight and less handsome than in real life.
Some of the riding was in the rain and Mike finally had a chance to try
out his thousand dollar rain suit. Several truckers whistled at him and
asked if he knew Ralph Lauren personally.
In Pleasant Point WV we stumbled into a real fine dining establishment.
Us with dirty jeans, tee shirts, helmet head hairdos, and road odor.
They gave us their finest table. I would never have dreamed that they
reserve a table by the dumpster for dignitaries but that's what they
said.
We traveled as far east as Wheeling where we toured a gallery of WV art
objects. Eric bought a glass vase and Mike talked a girl out of a free
bottle of water.
We ended up back at Mike's house with about a thousand miles in saddle
and some very pleasant times. We both agreed we will pick a different
part of the US next year and attack it. You are all invited.
Recording Secretary, Class of 66 Adult Events Committee
