As the sky grew darker, there was lightning behind us as Kenzy and I made our way up Lycoming Creek Road on the bike from her soccer practice. Still no rain. I kept thinking about a time in the past that reminded me of this very moment.
I was eighteen, and Chris and I bought a Yamaha 650 motorcycle together. Can’t remember the year of that bad boy, but I know that baby was in the ’80s. She was one sexy beast. It was like riding a couch down the highway. Built for comfort, not show. Hahaha.
My dad, Lee Perry, had been working with us on learning the ropes of riding a street bike. Staggered formation. How to not ride in the middle of the road because of roadkill. Do not ride next to tractor-trailers because they can’t see you. Always assume the person in a car doesn’t see you. Look both ways, even though you have a green light. Stuff like that. He would take us over to Loganton, which was always such a fun ride. We got to learn highway, and backroads.
Well, one day I decided I wanted to venture out on my own. I had done the Loganton run a few times with my dad and thought it would be fun to do the ride on my own and see how I did.
Back then, I got off work at 2 p.m. I know it was late afternoon when I decided to take off for a ride. I fired that bad boy up, and off I went on 220 to head towards Loganton. It was a beautiful day, and I remember how cool I felt being on the open road all on my own. After all those years of riding on the back of my dad, I was now eighteen years old, riding my very own motorcycle, and about to be married.
I had done this ride a handful of times before and swore I knew where I was going, but once I got over the mountain, I started getting confused. Was I lost? Landmarks looked familiar, but I wasn’t sure where to go. Once I got out of all the trees, I noticed the sky was getting really dark — like, really dark.
Back then, there wasn’t a thing called the radar app. The only thing cool on my Nokia phone was the game Snake, and my antenna lit up when it rang. (Man, was I cooler than cool back then or what!?) I found a spot where I could pull my bike off the road and call my dad. I needed help because I had no clue where I was. Only problem — my dad wasn’t around at work. I couldn’t get a hold of him. The next people I knew to call were my Grammy and Pappy Perry. Dwain and Margaret Perry.
“Good afternoon,” my Grammy answered the phone.
“Grammy, I’m lost on the bike and don’t know where I am, and now the sky is getting so black. I don’t know how to get home!” I said in a worried voice.
“Hang on there, sweet patoot. Let me go get your grandfather. Hang on one minute.”
“DWAIN!!!!” I could hear her yelling in the background.
They always had a long-corded phone that hung in the kitchen, which was long enough to reach the living room door.
“Andrea is on her motorcycle and is lost. Can you please help her?”
My pap got on the phone, and he asked me to give him landmarks where I was at. I could see the highway to the left of me, I had the mountain right behind me, and to the right of me looked like a back country road. Pap knew right where I was and told me directions to get me home, but I had to go back over the mountain to get there. Ugh. This was a disaster! I don’t remember seeing a highway when I rode with dad, but that’s because I was doing the ride in reverse, and it had me all mixed up. I could tell pap was a little nervous because I think he knew this storm was about to hit and his granddaughter was lost in the middle of what felt like nowhere on a motorcycle. He told me exactly what my dad would tell me.
“Just take your time, and please ride safely. Your gram and I will be here when you arrive,” he said.
After I hung up, I headed back up over the mountain and continued to watch the sky. It was so black. Pap was bringing me home through the Oval/Nippenose area. They lived in Southside, and I was heading right to their house.
As soon as I hit the Oval area, it started to rain. It was spring, and I remember how cold the rain was. The rain felt like pins and needles hitting my body. I had never experienced rain at speed limit speeds before. I was shivering, and the wind was picking up. I was not in a very good position at this point. The weather was getting worse, and my grandparents’ house felt like it was states away. This could be a long ride.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Stuffed Cheese Shells
Ingredients:
• 24 jumbo pasta shells; cooked according to package
• 15 ounces of ricotta cheese
• 3 cups of shredded mozzarella cheese, divided
• 2 teaspoons Italian seasoning
• Salt and pepper to taste
• 1 egg
• 1/2 cup grated parm
• 3 cups of sauce
Directions:
Preheat oven to 375°.
Coat the bottom of a 9×13 pan with a layer of sauce. (About 1 cup.)
Place the ricotta cheese, 1 1/2 cups of mozzarella cheese, seasonings, and eggs in a bowl. Mix until combined.
Fill each shell with the ricotta mixture and place them in a baking dish. Spoon the rest of the sauce over each shell and top with the rest of the mozzarella cheese.
Cover and bake until the sauce is nice and bubbly — at least 35-45 minutes.
Uncover for the last ten minutes of baking.
