Alpaca

Allow me to get off the subject for a minute or two. Ok, you’re right, I was never on a subject; but if I were, this would be off it.

Recently, Larry has been saying how much he would enjoy visiting an alpaca “ranch”. “How about llamas?” I queried. “No, just alpacas; lamas spit at you, and, alpacas always relieve themselves in the same place”, he said. (I might point out that I generally relieve myself in the same place, but have never generated the interest that these animals seem to enjoy.) Regardless, I’ve been keeping an eye out for alpacas to let Larry know where he could witness these marvels of nature first hand. As luck would have it, Michael and I were out riding when he pointed out a bunch of alpacas not far from town. Today, while riding alone, I saw some people in the driveway of the farm and decided to stop to inquire if they would welcome a curious visitor. Evidently they deemed me curious enough and offered to give me the fifty cent tour.

For your edification, here are a few of the things I learned about alpacas and llamas.

Two guard llamas were kept in the herd of 13 alpacas to drive off coyotes. (Incidentally, llamas rarely spit at people, but Alpacas spit at each other frequently.)

Alpacas do poop in the same spot, and not to be outdone, others of the herd will queue up to make a deposit themselves. My tour guide likened it to ladies lining up at the loo in a movie theater.

The stuff covering an alpaca is called “fiber”.

The nearest factory to process the fiber is in South America. (The fiber from an alpaca generates enough money to feed it for a year. Alpacas are cheap to feed.)

Alpacas are not cuddly despite their appearance, and don’t like to be touched.

Alpacas are horny; however, some Alpacas don’t have a clue as to how to go about making little alpacas, and have to visit other farms where they can observe first hand what’s expected of them.

These breeders had two alpacas for sale at $15,000 apiece.

There were other interesting things, but this should be enough to pique even the most jaded curiosity.

One final note regarding the economics of alpacas. The ownership and sale of alpacas is a pyramid scheme. Except for producing a little fiber, their sole purpose is to produce little alpacas that can be sold to other people to produce more little alpacas to sell. When the alpaca market becomes glutted, pity the poor soul who was the last in line. Those Peruvians saw the fat man coming.

The Silence Is Broken

This old geezer had fallen silent for the past month. Why? you might ask; or you might not, but I will tell you anyway.

Michael called me during the last weekend in July and suggested that we do something fun with Kim, who lives in the Chicago area. (If you don’t know who these people are, please go back and find them in former entries because it would take too long to explain here.) Further, he said that there was a motorcycle for sale across the street from him and that he was thinking about buying it so he could ride with Kim (who rides), and suggested that I might want to get a bike so we could all ride together. My initial was response was “no way”, but the more I thought about it the better the idea sounded. Michael bought the 2003, Anniversary Harley Sportster that was for sale by his house and I got a Kawasaki 800 from the local dealer. The goal was to tow the bikes to Kim’s house A.S.A.P. and surprise her.

There were two major obstacles that had to be overcome. First, I had to learn to operate the damned thing (I rode a friend’s bike in the early to mid sixties a few times and owned a scooter, but otherwise had absolutely no experience.) Michael rode a motorcycle about 25 years ago and therefore qualified as the experienced rider. Second, we had to get motorcycle endorsements on our driver's licenses (Michael had previously had one, but let it expire).

I figured 2 weeks practice, before the skills test for the endorsement. So, I spent the first week of August taking short rides and practicing slow maneuvers in a church parking lot. My only injury…. a sprained wrist. I considered myself lucky so far (although the wrist still doesn’t work worth a hoot.) The next Monday, I called to make the appointment for us take the skills test in Lawton on the upcoming Saturday and continued to practice. The only part of the test that had me stressed out was the anticipation of doing the WEAVE. Here, the word “weave” should be said with reverence, and authority, as if it were being said by God with dark and ominous clouds quickly forming overhead.

On the day of the TEST (use the same voice inflection as was used with WEAVE), we arrived at the site, did the paper work, and got in line behind a bunch of confident whipper snappers; all of whom seemed to pass without any trouble. Michael went before me and passed. Ahhh, the pressure was unbearable. My turn, and the first maneuver on the course…. The WEAVE! Clearly I was in trouble. This was not set up at all like the practice course we had used. I launched into the course filled with trepidation. Three cones were successfully navigated when I took the turn too wide to get back into the game and ran over the last two. Had they been people, bodies would have been strewn about like ??? …. Well, like knocked over cones…. Death and destruction would have reigned. I returned to the instructor assuming I would be assigned a new test date, however, he informed me I had lost five points but was still in the hunt. The rest of the test would have to go without incident. No stalling, no dropping my feet to get balance, no errors. Impossible! But no; I actually muddled through the test.


Michael and I made arrangements to visit Kim and spring the surprise on her, which we did. I’ll make our visit with Kim a separate entry, but to show it actually happened, I’ve included here a picture of the three of us at a restaurant near her house in Illinois.