I rode to the Best Western Plus just because I’d never stayed in that particular motel before, and I was curious about it. Lots of pick-up trucks pulling trailers with fishing boats on them and several Harleys huddled together near the entrance. The place appeared to be rather crowded. Not a good sign, because that probably meant that even if they did have a vacancy, it was probably on the top floor… They did have a lounge, however…

Those bikes weren’t owned by one percenters, though, nope these were all RUBs… (Rich Urban Bikers). Really nice looking brand new rides, well blinged out, spotlessly clean as pins, and well-dressed folks in new leathers and… you know the type. Anyway, this was definitely not the place for yours truly.

We rode a bit further to the White Pines Motel where we’d always stayed before… Yeah, this was more like it. Lots of bikes of various makes there, too, but these were actual riders… No event or anything going on in town, just lots folks trying to crowd in one more road trip before the season ends up here. They had a vacancy for me!

I got the room and began settling in. At check-in, I’d learned that a new couple owns this place. The couple I’d known before had retired… Well, he had retired, I was told. She’d taken ill and died, then he’d lost interest in the place… Now, a new couple with bright eyes, boundless energy, bubbling enthusiasm, and a grand dream had taken over. Nice folks, and I liked them… And, I liked what they’d done with the place since buying it.

I also felt really sorry for the nice folks I’d known in years past… Just the final stage in the drama of life for all living creatures… Once they’d been exactly like the new owners… one day the new owners will be just like the ones I’d known… and the cycle will repeat itself again.

Two Harley riders about the same age as this writer were staying in the room next door, and they were really nice, friendly guys. One of them and I went to the Brass Rail a bit later for some libation and decompression… He later returned to his room, while I went further on down the street to see what was up with my old favorite bar in this hamlet… It was still there…

Several folks were already there going strong, and this time no vetting ritual was observed… Nope, I was just allowed right in to the social mix and things progressed from there. There was this young gal, actually a year or so younger than my granddaughter, who somehow wound up seated next to me… and she was quite friendly. At first, I suspected she might be a ‘working girl’, but that turned out not to be the case.

Nope, she was actually a four-star party animal! A college graduate who apparently had thoroughly enjoyed sorority life. And, she liked to dance… a lot. She claimed the guys in this town didn’t like to dance, and that was her biggest disappointment since moving there a couple of years before. Then she tugged on my arm, insisted I get out on the dance floor, and… Against my better judgement I went along.

Now you need to understand… I can really move around on a dance floor, particularly when nobody around knows me, and I’ve had a few… but there’s simply no way that can be called dancing… not with a straight face anyway… In fact, I’m pretty sure what I do is banned in several counties in Alabama…

This went on for quite a while… In between some risky, energetic twirling episodes that included some awkward high stepping and curious spontaneous gyrations, there were copious quantities of brews consumed, which were purchased Dutch treat at her insistence… plus a few shots. What is it with this shot thing? I mean, I can get plumb precious on beer alone, so I don’t really need any supplements… It does seem to be a social thing, though, and… well… I am a sociable guy…

I finally had to take my leave and stagger back to the motel… Mercifully, I knew the way and didn’t get lost. Somewhere in between the scene of the crime and my bed for the night, I reached a decision… I would not be riding the next day… possibly the day after either, assuming I did survive!

There is an old saying, “You can never go back.” I’ve often thought about that premise, and my experience has clearly borne out the efficacy of that observation… Usually it’s because nothing stays the same, therefore things, no matter how desirable, can ever be exactly duplicated or repeated. Sometimes, however, it’s simply because the statute of limitations hasn’t run… I may have to wait another decade before returning again to Orofino…