The next morning we rolled up our sleeping bags, strapped on everything and took off.  We wore our tennis shoes and tied our (still wet) boots to the sides of our duffel bags so they would dry on the way.  We did deposit the $5 in the collection box on the way out.

There is an old existing volcano off to the right that we took time to tour.  Ironically it is named “Rabbit Ear Mountain”. It was a pretty winding ride to the top, and then we walked all the way around the rim, viewing the sunken hole in the center.  As you look our in the plains below you can see the dark lava flow pattern that remains some ten or twelve million years later.

Noticing other old volcanoes all around in the distance one has to conclude----- “it was a hot time around there once upon a time!”

Traveling on to ‘Raton’ we found a good Mexican food place for lunch.  A mom and pop little café in an old shotgun house.  They found us bikers interesting and fed us well.  It was the first time either of us ate flauntas. 

Cimarron Canyon Road is an interesting ride.  Especially if you are Texas flatlanders not use to curving mountain ridge roads.  After awhile we both were getting dizzy and ready for a stop.

3pm or so at Eagle Nest we found what we called a “Roadhouse” back in Texas.  In the old days it was a saloon.  I think the New Mexicans called it a hunting lodge, and there were definitely lots of hunters, fisherman, ranchers and local bar flies in there.  The damn place was packed and it was only Saturday afternoon.  Obviously with the looks we got when we walked in – “bikers” were not part of their regular clientele.

Now this gets good but I’ve got to introduce you to Clyde a bit more before you’ll be able to appreciate this deal.  Remember – I said he was not a man “LOST FOR WORDS.”

I knew Clyde back in the late 1950’s.  He was a smart-ass teen-ager kid that dated and eventually married my first ex-wife’s best friend.  Years later he was a successful salesman for General Electric.  He handled the hospitality suites at the Space Congress every year at Cape Kennedy, Florida.  He and his family transferred to Vandenberg AFB, California, and then later he and his wife divorced. He decided to relocate back to Texas.  Clyde called me for job prospects.

I introduced him to my boss and they hit it off real good.  He wanted to work as a salesman on a commission basis only.  That worked out good for my boss.  No results- no loss.

Clyde started mid year and in spite of having no experience in our hospital housekeeping industry he did an excellent job. By our annual company management meeting in Atlanta he received the top “SALESMAN OF THE YEAR” award.  He was not a man “lost for words”.  He could sell an Eskimo an icebox!

Now back to Eagle Nest.  We walk into this lodge full of frowning suspicious folks.  Clyde proceeds to start introducing us and getting to know them, what they did, and where they were from. He was a spark plug and an instant hit.  I kinda hung and covered his back- just in case.

I ordered another beer after a few minutes.  Clyde declined a second brew saying “It’s against my religion.” The puzzled waitress asked how that figured into religion.

Clyde starts explaining this long drawn out line of theory about how Jesus drank wine but taught against getting drunk. That the first spark of life in everyone was a part of our creator himself.  Then he stunned everyone by proclaiming himself to be “God!”

A big burly cowboy at the next table snickered and said “okay GOD- show us a miracle.”  By then everyone in the place was tuned in to this conversation, and I felt like crawling under the table.  

Clyde said, “Okay, I will.  I’m going to bet you $100 I can make that picture on the wall behind the bar move.”  The rough looking cowboy, with horse crap still stuck to the soles of his run down boots, stood up and up and up until he reached about 6ft 4 inches, pulled out his billfold and started fumbling thru a bunch of green backs.

Then he turned towards me and growled out, “Is this some kind of a trick?” 

“I don’t know man. But last night he turned a rabbit into a chicken, and were $500, better off for it.”

The suspicious dude put his stash back into his pocket saying, “ I don’t know what kind of game you all are playing but I ain’t falling for it.”

Clyde then stated that he would still prove he could do the deal and just for a beer.  As I was going to tell him to “shut ta hell up while we were ahead” the cowboy responded…”you’re on!”

Get this…Clyde jumps up on his chair, stretches his arms up high with palms toward heaven and says in a loud voice, “With all my godly powers – I command you to ---“As he paused every eye in the place was glued on the picture, even mine as if it might be possible.  Then jamming his finger thru the air towards the picture he yells “MOVE!”

Then he turns to the cowboy and asked, “Did you see that?”  “I didn’t see nothing move”, he responded.  “Waitress bring this gentleman a beer,” Clyde stated.  Then added “God don’t create miracles for non-believers like you” as he grinned at the cowboy.  Everybody cackled out with laughter and the Cowboy looked real PO’d.

The cowboy says, “You guys trying to screw with my head?”  Then looking at me, “and what was that BS about winning $500 for turning a chicken into a rabbit? That really didn’t happen.  Did it?”

“It was a rabbit into a chicken and I didn’t say we won anything. We’re $500 better off.”  Then I explained the lucky throw story. He still didn’t act amused, even though everyone else laughed even more.

I followed up with “Hey, don’t take it so serious. We’re just trying to have a little fun.  Light’n up.”  He’s still frowning so I says, “come on man, I’m going to buy you a beer too just to show you I’m your friend.”

Clyde had gone to the restroom by then so I got up saying, “Ya know- you really can’t buy beer in here.. you can only rent it for a little while.”  With that I headed to the back also.

Confronting Clyde in the restroom I suggested we hit the back door and get ta hell out of there.  “That guy’s really getting pissed,” I explained. “I’ve seen that look before and he’s boiling for a fight.”

“Did I ever tell you I learned marshal arts in the Special Forces?”  Clyde said. “You were never in the military.”  “Yes I was…I was in the Marines.”  “Okay but that wasn’t Special Forces and at any rate we don’t need to be proving any thing in here. “He don’t know that.”  “No Clyde…let’s go.”

As we sneaked out and cranked up our scoots, that big SOB came running out and hollered “Hey!” Clyde waved to him as we puttered away.  I kept looking in the rear view mirror, expecting some old beat up truck to roar up behind us at any minute.

About an hour later we stopped for gas and laughed about the episode.  “Why do you suppose that dude came outside and hollered at us?”  I said with a chuckle.  “Could be because I never paid for his beer,” Clyde responded. “Hell Clyde, you know what else?  We left in such a hurry we forgot to pay for any of those drinks!”

-to be continued-

                                                              PART 3