Zen and the Art of Being Boots — Lone Buffalo Creative

If Murphy's law states that "anything that can go wrong, will go wrong," Boot's Law states that "everything will go wrong." It's a subtle variation but having known Boots long enough, there is a difference. Chalk it up to bad luck, karmic debt or the set-up for easy living for the rest of his days Boots has seen and felt quite a bit. From heartbreak of immeasurable depths to missed opportunities to watching his trailer (with motorcycle aboard) cartwheel freely down the interstate, I've watched him handle these challenges with grace and aplomb.

Thanksgiving 2017 was no different.

Ol' Boots climbed aboard his Kawasaki KLR with an empty stomach and visions of a feast in his minds eye, and a feast there would be. For the last 4 years, my dad has brought his A game to the kitchen for Thanksgiving and Boots has made it a tradition to be at the dinner table, tongue agog, ready to fill himself to the brim.

He chose the old Senator Highway as his scenic route. Starting in Prescott, Senator Highway weaves its way south towards the tiny town of Crown King, drops through Bumble Bee and spits itself out on I-17 just north of Phoenix. It is a classic central Arizona drive, an excellent road to get in some adventure but short enough to not miss the Thanksgiving festivities.

Or so Boots thought...

Around 1030 am I get a short, staccato text, "Dude, motorcycle acting funny. Not sure. Try for Crown King." I've been down Senator Highway before and it is most definitely not the place to break down. It is lightly traveled, far from anything (nearest paved road is 20 miles at least) and cell service is spotty at best.

"Do you have enough water and warmth?"

"Think I do. Let you know."

As the turkey slowly roasted and the pecan pie took shape, we waited for word. Would Boots arrive? Or would his place setting sit empty with what could have been?

One hour turned into two and his prospects looked dim. By now the potatoes were mashed, the rolls rose heavenly in the oven and the turkey rested. Finally, word. "Getting a tow to your house, be there in an hour." And sure enough, as the table was set and the wine poured, Ol' Boots arrived just in time.

Success. Relief. His plate would be piled high and his belly sated, but there still remained the issue with the motorcycle...what the hell is wrong with it? After we enjoyed all of my dad's offerings and took down the pies, it was time to diagnose.

"Hey dude, want to help me with the motorcycle?"

"Sure man, I'd love to help."

"Hand me that wrench...[Colin reaches for the camera]. Dude I said the wrench, what are you doing?"

"Helping. Like I'm gonna pass up this opportunity with this lighting."

I love watching Boots do his thing. He's a tinkerer, a projector and it's really fun to watch his mind and hands at work.

So here ya go...here's my help.