Imagine my confusion this morning when I received a phone call from someone about 250 miles from Detroit, asking about my new home. He identified himself and seemed to know things about me that a stranger should not have known. I was pleasant but cautious as he asked if he and his wife could come visit us in ARIZONA! He went on to say that they were tired of the snow and wanted a warm gettaway and they could rent bikes in Phoenix... OK. Now its making sense. He is a member of our national riding group and thinks we are in Arizona.
You should have heard the disappointment in his voice when he learned that I am still in Detroit, we havent moved into our new home yet, and oh, by the way, its in Arkansas (AR), not Arizona (AZ). He chuckled and apologized, then told he that he too, used to live in the Ozarks in southern Missouri. He went on about the beautiful scenery and perfect roads, cautioned me about cattle haulers and no-shoulders, and told me to ride safe. Then he said something very strange. He said, "I'm sorry about this call." I told him I was glad he called and I look forward to meeting him someday; I wasnt sorry at all. He replied, "Oh no, its not you, its just that I left my heart in the Ozarks and now you've gone and made me all homesick. To me, it was the prettiest place in the world, and I was so happy there."
Well, I guess I wouldnt go that far. Its not the prettiest place in the world, but it ranks right up there with scenic places to live. I wonder what our new neighbors will think when we have a bunch of leather-clad pirates pull up on dozens of powerful bikes and have a BBQ. The Ozarks will never be the same!
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