Bad Boys Bad Boys

Arrived in Reno Nevada. The trip was 198 miles from Whitmore. My behind was hurting when I got here so I’m just not going to mention that again. The ride over the mountains was very cool. I won’t subject you to descriptions of the natural beauty so suffice it to say that there was a lot of it. If I had to pick out one thing to highlight, I would say that the mountain meadows where on fire with yellow flowers and full of new grass, streams and streamlets.

I didn’t learn anything about riding a motorcycle on this leg of the trip other than when your legs get tired and you move your feet from the pegs to the running board, don’t accidentally miss and set a foot down on the highway at seventy miles per hour. I guess I also learned that when you add a bunch of weight to a bike it doesn’t turn quite as well so you should make sure you don’t turn wide into oncoming traffic. I also learned, while riding through Lassen National Park that Smokey the Bear has lightened up. He’s changed his slogan to “Prevent Forest Fires” which means he’s dropped all the finger pointing. And while I’m on the subject of slogans, Lassen Parks slogan is “Land of Many Uses”. The people that make up the slogans must have used up most of the marketing dollars on Yosemite and Yellowstone National Parks and only had about seventy-five cents left for Lassen.

Reno doesn’t smell right. As soon as I pulled off the highway into the downtown area, I started to get a wiff. I tried pulling my face shield down but it didn’t work. For a whole town to smell, you need a lot of people in close collaboration. This has to be a public initiative. The smell is i-smoke-in-my-pontiac-with-the-windows-rolled-up-plus-lavender. When I was walking through the ‘resort’ towards the lobby I got a lung full it at close range from a lady who brushed past me. Do you mean to smell like that or is the shower in your RV not working? I’m trying to think decent thoughts about Reno, but as I drove through town, kept hearing the theme song to “Cops” in my head.

I’m staying at the Silver Legacy ‘Resort’ and Casino. I don’t want to sound like a snob, but when I book a room in a hotel, I have a minimum price. I think if a hotel is less than $70 a night, it’s probably in a bad neighborhood and there are probably carpet stains on the ceiling. This place was $69 a night and it was the most expensive place they had except for the smoking ‘hot tub room’ which one quick visual on that makes me cough a little up.

Having not eaten, I went down to the casino to find food. They had a Harley-Davidson shop IN the casino. This is both good and bad news. Good because I can get another Harley t-shirt. Bad because it’s yet more evidence that I’m riding a chrome plated cliché.

I tried to gamble. I'm not super big on it to begin with. A card table, which requires human interaction, was out of the question. That left the slots, but I don't really get them. First, I know I'm totally going to get ripped off which starts me out with the wrong attitude. And the thought of reading the wild-assed graphics on a slot machine trying to figure out if I've won or lost makes me feel like a moron. I tried to find an easy slot machine. I walked around reading the names of the games. "Consolidated Multi-denomination Triple Cherry 5 Card Stud" seemed out of my league. I settled on a machine that said "Anything Higher Than Jacks". I liked that it seemed to have the instructions, in big letters, right on the front. I saddled up on the most germ free looking one of the lot but it wanted me to put in my "Winners Circle Card". I'm not sure what that is, but I can tell you that I HATE IT when the checker at the grocery store asks me for my club card. I think it must have been something like that. I feel like they are telling me they won't overcharge me if I join the 'club', otherwise they are unfortunately going to have to really fuck me over. That pretty much put the kabash on my gambling. I'll try again in Vegas.

I’m writing this from a bar in the casino that has a fake mining rig that is possibly fifty feet tall. It runs through a hole in the center that goes through the roof and into the second floor of the casino. Someone just handed me a form that reads “DUELING PIANOS – Hey Piano Guys! Would You Play…” and then you fill in the rest. This has caused me to look up from my computer. I do in fact see two pianos on a stage, facing each other. There are a couple guys in black, cracking their knuckles up there and running their fingers through their mullets. I’m outie.