More of Baxter Black

Baxter Black once wrote a poem about the plight of ranchers who were losing herds due to severe flooding along the Mississippi and Missouri. It was poignant and sympathetic, and it didn't rhyme. I remember sitting in my car in the parking lot of the grocery store when it was on the air (his stories are told on NPR), and I listened until he was finished describing the ranchers' sorrow, knowing they were unable to rescue the animals who relied on them for their care.

But usually Baxter tends to be silly. Case in point:



Back in my motorcycle/scooter days, I went on a ride with some seasoned bikers. They were much cooler than I was and had ridden for years, especially this guy who rode in sweat pants astride his massive white thing. It wasn't a Gold Wing, I don't think, but it was as big and had big, hard-side compartments. One of the other riders said he looked like he was riding a motorhome.

We stopped for coffee and were all sitting at a big table when the guy in sweats asked how long I had been riding. It was obvious I was new at it, and he offered advice about the importance of leaning into the curves. Then he said, "If you find yourself needing to stop, and we're out in the middle of nowhere, just let me know. I got ya covered." The others confirmed he always kept a couple of rolls of toilet paper in his side bags in case of emergencies on the road.