They say that we lose things as we age. It is true, and in my case I have been blessed in that my losses thus far have been of little things like physical strength, a bit of hearing and eyesight, a "tinch" of sexual prowess, and my ability to remember the names of old friends and former coworkers at Beebe River, or at Rochester Shoe Tree Company, or even at Plymouth State University, when I bump into them at Walmart, Annie's Overflow, or Rand's Hardware. I also find my motorcycle rides more interesting this summer, because roads I knew well in the 1970s have changed so much that I feel like a newly arrived tourist when I cruise them.
Today I made a run to the Campton-Thornton town Dump, a thoroughly familiar trip made weekly, but detoured on my way home to explore Pond Road in Campton, and found to my surprise that it leads to a steep and sharply winding road up Campton Mountain to the ski area there, and its surrounding development, Waterville Estates. Back in the 1970s, when I was plant manager at the Beebe River Bobbin Plant of the Draper Division of North American Rockwell, Waterville Estates was a booming second-home development catering to Massachusetts ski enthusiasts. Until I made that left turn just over the dam bridge on Route 175 in Campton, I had not even thought of Waterville Estates in decades.
Last night, I took my white BMW R27, built in 1966 and newly repaired so that its battery would charge, out on a ride at dusk. I had just given it a fresh oil change to SAE 40w summer oil, and wanted to give the engine a chance to squish it around a bit. So, I rode north on NH 175 for about ten or 15 miles to Woodstock, then came south down U.S. 3 back into Campton. When I reached Chesley's Market, and the intersection with NH 49, I saw that a right turn would take me up Ellsworth Hill Road. I knew that a PSU Business Department colleague and her husband lived up there, and decided to explore it. Again, I may have ridden that road before, but if so it was when I was about 30, and today I am a month shy of 73. Ellsworth Hill Rd. is a Campton byway that I saw last night as if for the first time, just at sunset. It is a beautiful rural road that climbs to the west through a forest, past a number of widespread homes and farms, and where the forest wanes, reveals views across a valley to the north of what I took to be the Franconia Range of The White Mountains. In the twilight it was magnificent.
From these two experiences, and from several others of late, I find my fading memory to be a blessing. I am seeing old turf as if for the first time, and finding it fascinating.
In closing, I am thankful to God, and to Romania and Microsoft, and Blogspot, and The Internet, etc., for having kept my two blogs for the past 8 years. The memories stored herein are proving to be personal treasures.
__________________________________
*Source of quotation: Former President Bill Clinton, speaking at the Democratic National Convention, 26 July 2016
Today I made a run to the Campton-Thornton town Dump, a thoroughly familiar trip made weekly, but detoured on my way home to explore Pond Road in Campton, and found to my surprise that it leads to a steep and sharply winding road up Campton Mountain to the ski area there, and its surrounding development, Waterville Estates. Back in the 1970s, when I was plant manager at the Beebe River Bobbin Plant of the Draper Division of North American Rockwell, Waterville Estates was a booming second-home development catering to Massachusetts ski enthusiasts. Until I made that left turn just over the dam bridge on Route 175 in Campton, I had not even thought of Waterville Estates in decades.
Last night, I took my white BMW R27, built in 1966 and newly repaired so that its battery would charge, out on a ride at dusk. I had just given it a fresh oil change to SAE 40w summer oil, and wanted to give the engine a chance to squish it around a bit. So, I rode north on NH 175 for about ten or 15 miles to Woodstock, then came south down U.S. 3 back into Campton. When I reached Chesley's Market, and the intersection with NH 49, I saw that a right turn would take me up Ellsworth Hill Road. I knew that a PSU Business Department colleague and her husband lived up there, and decided to explore it. Again, I may have ridden that road before, but if so it was when I was about 30, and today I am a month shy of 73. Ellsworth Hill Rd. is a Campton byway that I saw last night as if for the first time, just at sunset. It is a beautiful rural road that climbs to the west through a forest, past a number of widespread homes and farms, and where the forest wanes, reveals views across a valley to the north of what I took to be the Franconia Range of The White Mountains. In the twilight it was magnificent.From these two experiences, and from several others of late, I find my fading memory to be a blessing. I am seeing old turf as if for the first time, and finding it fascinating.
In closing, I am thankful to God, and to Romania and Microsoft, and Blogspot, and The Internet, etc., for having kept my two blogs for the past 8 years. The memories stored herein are proving to be personal treasures.
__________________________________
*Source of quotation: Former President Bill Clinton, speaking at the Democratic National Convention, 26 July 2016
