Quick Update

I am currently in bed in Reedsport,Oregon listening to my old man
snore. It's 11:17 pacific time so after midnight for what our bodys
are thinking.

I figured out how to get the Internet working on my iPhone so I
thought I would check in with all My loyal readers.

My Dad and I are on our annual roadtrip and this year we have decided
to drive up the Oregon coast. We followed the silver streak train line
through California all the way to Chico and the cut north to the
coast. Last night we stayed in Acata California. When we got to Acata
we figured we drove over 900 miles. It was quite the day.

Today we went to several beaches and also to the Redwood national and
state parks. Since I can only post one pic, when submitting on the
phone I thought I would show one with a redwood. They are so massive
it is hard to believe how big they are untill you see them in person.

We drove all the way up to Reedsport which is a little less than half
way up the coast. We are excited to make it to either Astoria or
Portland tomorrow.

That's it for now....until next time.

The Salt Flats

It was really flat. And salty.

A Road Trip to Remember

I wrote this as an introduction to a book I made my Dad for Christmas of 2009. The book was full of pictures and other tidbits. I also included a slide show of about a 1/4 of the the pictures that were in the book. Please enjoy.

The Journey is the Destination

By taking the road less traveled, a trip can be transformed into a journey. Instead of traveling from point A to B, you come across point Z, which in itself is worth a few bumps and bruises.

The open road calls many, and consumes more. Instead of enjoying the expedition we find the quickest passage with its many luxuries and conveniences.

Unfortunately as time passes and we get older the chance to explore the world slowly slips away. Responsibility and ‘life’ slowly suffocate out dreams. Our dreams become fantasy; a mere after thought to what we want. We forget that once we wanted to be astronauts and explorers.

When the call of wanderlust beckons however we must answer quickly and without hesitation for her sweet sirens proclamation will not last. When the call is answered we must be ready for an adventure. We must be ready for the turns, mountains, and more importantly the unexpected.

In 2009 wanderlust gave her sweet call to a Father and Son; and they answered.

Armed with a BMW 325i, a cooler of food, and a tattered map they discovered a land that they have lived in for years, but have never truly seen.

Whether racing oilrigs down an abandon highway in Wyoming, seeing the President fly off in Marine One, or interacting with the locals from Broadus, Montana the wandering was exciting and edifying.

Proof that a picture is worth a thousand words lie in these pages.

The following is the journey where a Father and Son relearned a simple maxim.

The Journey is the destination.

Bradford D. Roper, December 2009

The Journey Is The Destination from Brad Roper on Vimeo.

Thanksgiving

Just a few thoughts on Thanksgiving 2009.

First off I can’t believe that it is almost 2010. Pretty soon we can start talking like old timers on a front porch, “I ‘member back in aught nine when….” Anyway I think times are a changin’ and that we need to enjoy the simple things.

This year I am thankful for my family. I’m thankful that my Grandma lives in Wyoming so I am able to take a mini vacation. I’m also thankful for my food and all the other typical things of the year that we always spout off year after year. This year I would like to share some of the little things I have enjoyed today.

I’m thankful for shooting guns, and having another good time with my cousin Eric. I’m thankful that the Wal-Mart was open today so we could buy some cheap coconuts, cabbage, canned yams, and cantaloupes to use as targets.

I’m thankful for the entertainment of watching a cabbage explode like bomb when I shot my 44 mag with my personal protection rounds. I’m thankful that Eric is amazing with a shotgun and that he can shoot a cantaloupe out of the air and watching it explode like an erupting volcano.

I’m thankful for shooting a shotgun just a few feet a way from a coconut and watching it practically disintegrate into a million pieces.

I’m thankful for my Grandma for letting us use her .22 that is older than both Eric and I put together, and shooting shotgun shells from 50 yards. Yes, we are that good of shots.

I’m thankful for Eric having a First-Aid Kit in his truck, so when I smashed my nail up I didn’t bleed all over the place.

I’m thankful for wining world domination at Risk. And I’m thankful for Heidi for being my personal weapon that helped me become the world dictator.

And I’m Thankful for my Grandmas great culinary skill’s that induced a quick and much needed turkey coma.

What about all of you? What are some of the little simple things, other than the normal stuff, that you all thankful for?

An Open Letter to BYU and Utah Fans

Dear BYU and Utah fans,

I hate to be the one to tell you this both of your seasons ended in September. I know that this hard for you all to accept, but I think that it is time for ya’ll to realize that your quest for perfection is over. You have been playing nothing more than glorified scrimmages.

Granted you both had some tough legitimate wins over good teams, but none of that matters. You lost.

I will be the first to say that the BCS is a crock of crap but that’s the way it is. Deal with it. Cowboy up. You both lost to teams you shouldn’t have. That’s all that matters to a computer. No matter what you think or justify it, a loss is a loss. Doesn’t matter if it was by one point or thirty.

BYU just so you know the better team for the past 10 years has been Utah. This is a tough pill to swallow, but lets look at the facts. Utah has had two BCS bowls and had two undefeated seasons. BYU has had how many? Zero. Get over it. They have been the better team. Your team imploded more times than my father would like to remember.

Utah fans, you have had some good runs in the past decades, but comparing this season to the others is like the Mona Lisa to a gift shop reprint. Once again your season was over in September. Bringing up how good you were back in 2008 is nothing more than picking at a scab.

Both of you peaked early. It was a tough break. Better luck next time.

As for the Mountain West Championship, which is usually a BYU or Utah shoot out, a third party has been added; TCU. In case you haven’t noticed TCU is no longer the little brother of the conference. He has grown into a man, and is now faster and stronger than both of your teams in several ways.

I have actually heard both of you fans compare loses to TCU. Really? You both got smoked no matter how long it took or how bad the score was. It doesn’t matter if it took one quarter or four. You both lost.

I know that you are naturally made to hate it each other but lets look at this from a different perspective. Have one of those seven habit paradigm shifts.

The MWC is a conference that gets little respect on the national level. Any of the interviews with either one of the Coach’s confirm this. Just this season are some of the talking heads of the sports world recognizing that the MWC is a more legitimate conference than they have once suspected.

But really the only way that the conference can prove itself is by having teams go undefeated. Mathematically if all the right things happen, the MWC could have a shot at the National Title. This is not going to be a easy task, but with the new system in place this year, and the planets aligning it is plausible. (Read here for information about the MWC agreement with the BCS.)

Problem for you is, its not going to be BYU or Utah this year.

Ever hear the saying the enemy of your enemy is your friend? Let me please introduce you to new enemy-friend. TCU.

TCU.

Just let that roll off your tongue a few times. TCU. It doesn’t sound that bad. TCU. It’s almost soothing. TCU.

This will hurt your prideful ears just a smidge but please listen to this. Because you both lost games in September the best thing that you could have done for yourself and the MWC was to lose in spectacular fashion to TCU. (I tried to make that like a band-aid. I hope you all survived.)

TCU is the MWC’s only hope of notoriety this season incase you haven’t caught on. Thus, YOUR only hope of notoriety in the future. If TCU busts the BCS this will in turn bring respect AND much needed national attention to the MWC.

They will look and see that at one point this year BYU, Utah and TCU were all in the top ten. Which is not bad for a non-BCS school that doesn’t have the supposedly ‘tough’ schedules. They will look at the history this season and see some of the big wins on the road like Oklahoma and Louisville. Other teams are starting to think that those back woods Mountain boys can actually play some ball.

Unfortunately one of you will have at least a three-loss season and I’ll be honest, that sucks. But look at it this way. Next year after two consecutive seasons of busting the BCS ya’ll are going to get the national respect that you yearn for.

So go have your Holy War. Wear your Blue and Red proudly. Talk about the glory days. Go to a bowl game and win. And more importantly talk TCU up like the proud older brothers that you should be. Tell your friends and family, your bosses, co-workers and strangers on the street. Because if either of you want a chance to play in the title game someday you had better be cheering them on as loud and as much as possible. Think of the greater good. Think about the Conference. Unite with a Cougar or a Ute. Bust out your purple and cheer on the Horned Frogs!

Sincerely,

Bradford

Photo courtesy of KSL.

Part Two: Paranormal Squirrels of the Fourth Kind

Part II: The Stunning Conclusion of

Paranormal Squirrels of the Fourth Kind

I walked with rubbery knees and roused Eric to enlist him into this new game of life or death.

As he shook the cobwebs from his head I explained the quandary that we were in. He quickly pulled his boots up and was ready for action. As he brandished his gun I was followed into the living/dining/family room. Of course like in any scary movie the other person hears nothing when they are awoken and asked to be the protector of the protagonist.

After a few tense moments he heard the mysterious noises and became convinced that I was non compos mentis. As I was unarmed I quickly looked for a weapon to protect my kinsmen and myself with. I had few options to choose from. A lawn chair, a chinese checkers board, and a hatchet. I decided to go with the lawn chair thinking that I would need a place to sit after we apprehended with the assailant. But thinking more three dimensionally I chose the hatchet.

On the count of three we burst through the single-wides front door with the force of an eight-man swat team. Feeling extra courageous I stormed out first with the hatchet in one and a flashlight in the other. I was ready to meet an onslaught of hot lead. To my surprise there was not a soul in sight. With a quick sweep of my light I turned and started to go around the trailer to check the back of the trailer thinking that the intruders had some how heard our plan of attack.

With Eric hot on my heels I turned the corner and to my utter surprise saw nothing again. As we get to the middle of the trailer where a good majority of the mischievous sounds were coming from. We stood for an instant in silence. I was feeling rather sheepish for waking Eric and charging out in the dark. But more so for making him participate in my shenanigans.

Then we saw it.

It was a blood streaked flash of gray. As this demon beast ran by me up the tree, I caught a look into its bloodthirsty eyes; I was practically placed in a trance. I wished then I had chosen the lawn chair so I could’ve collapsed in defeat to this formidable foe.

I could not believe my luck. I had just been spared by on of the most depraved, diabolical, dark creature this world has to offer. A Paranormal Squirrel of the Fourth Kind.

With a quick shake, Eric brought me back to reality and we quickly made our way back indoors. I was nearly speechless when he helped me to chair. Eric in disbelief explained what to me what happened. Some how this demon Squirrel had shown mercy on us. We were given a second chance on life.

Eric excused himself to change his shorts, while I took a deep breath for the first time in what seemed like hours.

We had survived an ordeal that few could claim. We had survived an attack by a Paranormal Squirrel of the Fourth Kind.

Few people know this about Squirrels but they are the number one threat to this world. They appear cute and cuddly but the moment you turn your back, or in my class close my eyes they will attack with the ferocity of a liger. (A liger is a mix between tiger and lion that are breed for their skills in magic.)

The next morning we were happy to be alive but we were stunned to see what was written on the door.

Like I said, these things are evil!!

As I looked through the window to make sure that the coast was for us to vacate the premises this is what I saw pressed against the window. It was the very same Squirrel that had nearly killed us the night before. Luckily I was quick on the draw and was able to take a picture.

On further investigation, while dressed in full camouflage, we searched the premises were able to take some pictures of a small colony hiding behind our outhouse. As you can see these squirrels are pure evil.

This is an Al Qaeda trained squirrel that has been infiltrating our forests for years.

Here is a home grown evil squirrel working with other Evil squirrels of the forest.

This was the was the most shocking thing that we saw; a Sith trained squirrel. Sadly more and more good squirrels are defecting to the dark side.

If any of you have had similar experiences please share. We must unite and fight against the forces of evil! And Squirrels.

Part One: Paranormal Squirrels of the Fourth Kind

Its been awhile but with some coaxing from some friends and family here is a shiny new blog post just for you. So tell your friends. Leave messages and bring me cookies.

Please Enjoy.

My cousin Eric and I are real men! We like to shoot guns, start fires, cut down trees, blow things up, talk about how long we would survive in a post-apocalyptic world, and complain how are teams never win. We talk big, play hard, and enjoy the simple things.

To give you an idea of how we can be together, one year we spent around $500 one year on the 4^th July. During that epic day we spent well over 6 hours enjoying ourselves and singeing the hair off of various body parts (as well as my sister favorite blanket. Good thing my Dad saw the fire, because we sure didn’t.)

Because both of us are hard workers and extremely in demand through out the land for our skills, when we have a chance to get together we enjoy ourselves.

Due to being born into the right families we have some property nestled in the Uintah’s. We are set about an acre back from the main dirt road, and have a row a trees sheltering the view giving us a little privacy. There is a nice creek (not to be confused with crick, if you don’t know the difference look up Patrick F. McManus’s definition) that runs right next to the fire pit and the quaint 1960’s single wide trailer that serves as our cabin.

The trailer as one can imagine is not much to look at. All in all it is in good repair. The inside is complete with all the appropriate fixtures, carpeting, sofas and such that were found in the 60’s and makes you feel like you are stepping back 40 years.

My cousin Eric and decided that it was about time to have some male bonding time again, and so we headed up the river to go to the trailer. Once we arrived we immediately got to work starting a fire and cooking our ginormous slabs of meat over the open fire. We are men! What else would we eat other than a leviathan sized piece of meat in the woods?

We enjoyed our dinner and busied our self with feeding the fire anything that would burn or melt. The fire slowly died out after digesting everything from cans, to stumps and we decided to retired to the trailer to get to work on the worlds problems through an intense discussion on an assortment of topics. Just about the time we got talking about the proper way to dispose of man eating zombies we decided it would be best if we rested out minds so we could be fresh for the continuation of this dialogue in the morning.

We stoked the fire emptied our bladders off the porch (another perk of being a man) and proceeded through the other nightly rituals that men go through. You know like a flexing in the mirror and a comparing of scars and what the other guy looked like after we were done with them.

As the testosterone thinned from the air Eric took the back room and I bedded down on the circa 1960’s pull out bed in the living/dining/family room. Not being able sleep I pulled out a trusty book and decided to have a read. (I was reading the book titled The Road, by Cormac McCarthy, which I would suggest to anyone needing a good book to read.)

After reading close to 150 pages (it’s a page turner) my eyes were growing heavy and I decided it was time to get some rest. I threw a few logs on the fire and turned the lights off and burrowed deep in to my sleeping bag and blankets. I quickly started to drift off to sleep, or best that you can on an ancient bed and in a peculiar place.

Normally I do not sleep well in many places other than my own bed, however the combination of eating a smorgasbord of scrumptious bovine and reading longer than I should have, I got knocked out like acid washed jeans.

For those of you that know me, I can be an extremely heavy sleeper at times. When I get in to a deep sleep I become dead to the world. I have slept through sirens, phones ringing, doorbells, my Mom for years, and even our dear, departed dog Sparkey, barking from the top of my bunk bed and vomiting in to my back pack, true story by the way. Sparkey was always very strategic when it came to her bodily fluids and me. But that is a post for another day.

But I digress...

As I was in the middle of this intense, near cavernous sleep I was awoken not by the crisp mountain dawn sneaking through the blinds, but to mysterious sounds in the dark, cold, dank trailer. The fire had gone nearly out and was casting a malevolent orange glow, that casted fiendish shadows on the wall.

I am not one to jump to conclusions about what a noise is or isn’t. I recognize that a good majority of the time I am probably agitating my self more than anything. With this thought in mind I closed my eyes again and tried to sleep once more.

Then I heard it again. Loud, crisp, and clear. Something was outside. And it sounded big.

My pulse quickened. And my senses enhanced. My eyes dilated to seven times their normal size, and I could hear my hair growing. I could feel an evil presence that one can only imagine. I sat up as ancient mans instincts took over and my body and turned on the fight rather than flight mode. I quickly assessed the situation.

It was up to me to protect the nobility of this hallowed family estate. And my sleeping cousin Eric.

I moved to the edge of my bed and pulled on my shoes to get ready for anything. The sounds were coming from a few separate places and this concerned me. For one, I am one man with a sleeping cousin in the back room that has no idea about the predicament that is ahead us. And second, I am unarmed. Eric is the one with the hand cannon. The Gat. The Piece. The Jammy. The Boom Stick. Eric was the one that would yell, “Say hello to my little friend!” Eric was the one that came prepared. And I was the one that left my ‘four four mag’ at home.

The sounds seemed to be getting louder. And I became more concerned. It sounded like the perpetrators were walking across the deck and checking the windows. Then I heard them underneath the trailer. Then floor started to shake. I could feel a surge of adrenaline coarse through my veins.

I knew right then it was them or I.

Stay Tuned For Part II for the Stunning Conclusion of

Paranormal Squirrels of the Fourth Kind