Saturday September 21, 2002 at 08:57 pm

It’s Friday night, and I’m bored out of my mind at work, but then again my mind is wandering due to the effects of taking possibly too many cold/flu medications. Nonetheless my mind is on everything except work. I popped over to a friend journal and read about her visits to a, for lack of better words, haunted house. And no I’m not referring to the type of haunted house you’d find in many of your local traveling carnivals; I mean an abandoned house which is supposed to have a high level of psychokinetic/spiritual activity.

Why am I writing about this, you may ask, well simple, I find it interesting in my own regard, you’ll see why in a moment or to. The other reason is because I found it quite ironic in regards to have read Misfit’s blog yesterday as well. The 2 somewhat tie in together. So now onto why I’m writing this here today, and it actually has nothing to do with either one of the aforementioned people, but it does connect with them as well ironically enough.

A walked outside today for my 4 o’clock break as usual and I noticed something in the air, in the sky, everywhere around me really. I noticed that summer was saying goodbye. Granted since I live in Phoenix, it’ll still be hot and possibly still break 100 on various days, but for the most part as I looked around me, and drew in breath the air of summer, was no longer abundantly present, it was simply lingering. Maybe it was the ache in my bones, like an old man who knows when it’ll rain because a particular body parts moves, or aches. Maybe it was an echo from years of playing sports and knowing these waning days of summer was when most of my injuries occurred. Either way, it made me smile and look back to my younger years, and as I looked out upon I-10 packed with rush hour traffic, I saw and bird gracefully floating on a air current glide across the horizon. It reminded me of something I haven’t seen since those younger years, except for a very rare occasion. It reminded me of my white owl.

Now before I go any further let me reiterate, I’m not totally into the supernatural, or into one set religion or belief, but I do believe in some of the more questionable aspects of our world. I don’t do this because I’ve read it, and it seemed logical to me, I believe it based purely on experience, and those that know me, or know where I’ve been well understand for the most part, but for others, well take it as you will.

It was day not so much unlike today when I first saw the owl. I had heard wise tales of many things growing up in Sierra Vista, the lady of the river, the abandoned ghost towns, the hidden Indian settlements, Montezuma legendary path through the mountains connecting the U.S. with Mexico, with a reported lost staff of gold and the crying children of the old base housing area. As I got older, most of these stories were proven either completely made up or completely true, for example the hidden cave that connects the U.S to Mexico through the Huachuca Mountains. The others well those were a little more like ghost stories, meant to entertain. I say meant to entertain, because, unless you’ve experienced them for yourselves, you wouldn’t believe half of them.

When I first moved to Sierra Vista from Sacramento, California I completely expected to be living in a dirt lined streets with tumble weeds blowing across them like the old West movies, To my dismay however upon waking up as we pulled into town, my vision of Sierra Vista was completely correct, for that one particular street. Before I had moved my neighbors had mentioned a story of the white owl, which to this day I can’t recall, as I didn’t pay much attention to it when they told it the 1^st dozen times, I was more interested in being able to cook your breakfast on the side walks, which if anyone as been to AZ, knows is possible, and anyone who’s been to Phoenix during the dead of Summer, knows is absolutely true.

I had been over at a friend’s house watching “Rad” when we decided it was high time we learned how to table top. So we cruised over to the make shift BMX track that was behind our school and set out to figuring out just how to perform the table top. Now granted the back flip was the key stunt in the movie, and we were of course young and zealous, there was still no need to be crazy about things. So we practiced for a while and determined that we needed a much longer take off point. Unfortunately this was being inhibited by a barb wired fence. Of course being the MacGyver I was, I quickly found away around the situation by, bending the post on either side of the trail over and laying down a few pieces of plywood that were scattered about.

With that minor obstacle out of the way we, set out to see just how high we needed to get. Kurt was much smaller than I at the time but for some reason never really caught on the motions of getting big air of ramps, like I could, even though I weighed close to a good 80 pounds more than he did. His jumps, were good in aspect to the front tire,, but he never seemed to be able to even out the back thus anytime he would have to actually clear something his back tire was always hitting, whereas when I jumped, I’d a small twitch in the hind area, would get enough to bring the back up to meet the height of the front. You can see this when watching the ESPN X games and watching the Step Up competition.

Growing antsy from trying to figure out how the mechanic of the trick worked we decided one of us would try it and the other would stand off to the side and evaluate the jump to determine what needed to be done to get tweaked out and complete the trick. He figured I should go first, since I had enough height, to possibly do it, as I lined up and stared down our make shirt launching strip, sweat seemed to flood from my hands, and my heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest, then I realized I was going to try a back flip I was just trying a table top, and if something did feel right all I had to do was let go and bail. For some reason I had the notion that this entire time I was going to try a back flip, why, I have no idea. A laughed for a small moment when I saw a huge creature soar from the telephone pole and land in the tree next to Kurt. Curious I took off down the strip, apparently Kurt thought I was going to launch, but instead I pulled short and asked him, what it was that landed next to him. His response was

“Nothing dude, you’re just stalling. You’re scared aren’t you?”

“Fuck that, scared, yeah for a quick minute thinking I was going to do a back flip off this thing, but for a table top, hells no, watch this shit. I’m going nail it the 1^st time off”

I rode back to the start and launched full speed, as I got about the half way point, I could see its eyes peering from with the leafless limbs of the mesquite tree. But I couldn’t stop and look I was committed to the launch. Any other jump you’re never committed until you’re on the ramp, but in this case it was different, see the landing area was very short, because it dropped off into a cliff about 20 ft down into the wash. This meant you had to have great breaks to stop or had to land, get control, and do one hell of a power slide to come to a stop, otherwise you ran the risk of flying into a barbed wire fence, which had been put up to prevent the cattle from wandering over the edge. If the fence didn’t stop you, then not only were you now cut up all over, but falling 20 ft onto the remains of a concrete slab, or what used to be of one. By the time I had taken my eyes off the creature I was already at the base off the ramp, turning my attention back to the immediate crisis, I did a half assed kick out, equivalent to a quarter of a �tail whip, simply kicking the back end out a little. I landed, and since, my parents never really supported my hobbies, I never did get those new brakes I wanted, thus I was forced to power slide, into the opposite direction I had kick out at.

Throwing up a tail of dirt, I came to a halt with 2 ft to spare before I hit the fence. As I made my way over I could see Kurt with his hands in the air, signaling the “What the fuck was that shit” signal. I told him I saw that thing again, and of course he brushed it off as a squirrel or something, he wasn’t really concerned with it but I felt he knew more about it than I did and I wanted to know. He told me, that his older brother had told him about a white owl, and how it’s was supposed to be the totally mysterious thing, and no one really knew what it did or where it came from but it was the only one anyone had seen in Sierra Vista.

Somewhat satisfied, I asked him what he thought about the jump, to which he explained it looks like we were on the right track, by doing a half tail whip. The only problem was a table top is called a table top, because you’re on your side when you do it, so how were we supposed to get sideways, basically laying down in mid air. A few more jumps and practice maneuvers on the ground, and we were set to go again, the sun was going down now, and I knew I had to get home fairly soon, or we’d have to wait until the next day to try it again, after I got home from church. Kurt was still having issues, getting his back tire up, but was progressing on the lying out aspect of it, all the while I kept getting glimpses of the creature in various trees, always looking at me. Finally It was time to go full tilt boogie, I lined up eyed the ramp, and grip the handlebars, for a moment I had wished I could have a new gooseneck so my cables wouldn’t get in the way if something went wrong. I pushed it out of my thoughts and took off, I had to go faster than I had done before to get maximum height, allowing enough hang time to layout, tweak, straighten out, spot the landing, land, get control and stop, seemed simple enough to me. Of course at the time I didn’t realize I need to do all those within the 10 seconds I’d be air born.

“Pull up has hard as you can, pull up as hard as you can” repeated through my head, as I approached the base of the ramp.

“Pull Up Hard!”

“Pump”

“Kick out and lean”

“Tweak the bars”

“Find the pedal”

“Lean in, and spot the landing”

“That thing is a white owl”

“Land

I screamed, and began to pump my fist, as ugly as it may have looked I had just, got as close as anyone I’d known to landing a table top. As I said I started to pump my fist, when I realize I had forgot about the #1 one thing you can’t forget at this jump, land, control, stop, or bail. I hadn’t done any, and as I opened my eyes, to see how much room I had, they were shut instantly, by the sight of the barbed wire, headed towards face. I had tried to regain control, but it was too late, the bars were tweaked around, and I was going over them. I felt the 1^st prick of the wire, and it seemed as if there was an eerie calm about everything around me. I couldn’t feel the tires hitting the randomly spotted clumps of knee high grass, or the rocks under them. I could feel the seat was there, but couldn’t tell if I was on the ground, then it was a horrendous bang, and I opened my eyes to find myself, falling over the edge. Now edge wasn’t a straight drop off, it had about a 6 ft curve down and then dropped, I was already about 3 ft into it, and nowhere close to slowing down. Knowing one BMXing is the bike, can do more harm than the fall itself, so I lunged forward, to get away from it’s obvious intent to pummeling towards me with the aid of gravity and any momentum from my speed at landing. Thinking I was clear I look forward, and saw the owl, dart directly towards me, and graze the top of my head, for a moment I though “I wish I had a helmet, because those claws are going to hurt”, suddenly I was yanked backwards, onto the top of the frame of the bike.

I was lying more than halfway over the edge of the cliff, and could hear Kurt and his older brother Kevin, yelling for me. I don’t know how long I was out, because it didn’t even seem like I had lost consciousness at all. I looked down and saw the rocks around me falling, I braced my self as much as I could against the ground, but I knew If I stayed there much longer I’d eventually tumble end over end, as the bike laying under me began to slide. I wiggled my way to the side, and figured that if the bike fell, the so be it. I could always go down and grab it especially if I kicked it on it’s way, to give it the extra distance to land in the sand with no damage versus possibly on the concrete slab, I could now clearly hear as the rocks tumbling next to me hit it and ricocheted away. My plan set I began to tug at the back tire still spinning to the right of me, suddenly I heard Kevin yell “No! Don’t move”. Well why the hell not, is all I could think of until I remember my dad telling me about rattlesnakes. I quickly looked around for one, but could see none, I still for some reason couldn’t talk, no matter how much I tried, but that was the last thing on my mind, for I hated snakes with a passion. Then I felt something slides across the back of my neck, and could feel the pressure building in my head, almost as if I was holding my breath. I thought of all the possible way it could bite me, but instinctively I shrugged away and trying to shake whatever it was off the back of my neck. To no avail, all this did was get the bike entangled on top of me, sliding me down another foot. This bad situation was turning worse; FUBAR’d, as my dad and his friends would say, “Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition”.

I laid there for what seemed like eternity, thinking of how they would explain this to my mom and dad. I wondered if my aunts would fly from California for my funeral. Then out of nowhere a hand grabbed me startling me back from my morbid day dream. It was Kevin, he had crawled down and grabbed the top of my jeans, I remember wondering why he didn’t just grab my hand or something. Then I felt a 2^nd set of hand reach around my neck grabbing my shirt. Slowly they pulled me up, when I thought I was in the clear, I tried kicking the bike away and then I saw Kevin reach forward and grab it, I tried explaining I didn’t need it now, and could just go down and get it but I couldn’t get the words out. This was becoming a bigger concern for me now, why couldn’t I talk, I know I can breathe, and make noise but I can’t make words anymore. As we reached the top I looked up as the white owl flew from the very tree I had seen before and over our heads. Kurt and Kevin never saw it they were looking at me, with wide eyes, almost in shock. I tried to sit up but Kevin knocked me back to the ground and told me to stay that way, as Kurt began untangling my Bike from the what seemed to be 100 ft of barb wire, it had wrapped itself so far around it looked like it had become the core of a spool or wire. Finally has he finished, Kevin slowly lifted my head to sit me up, as he did I could feel a warm trickle down the back of my neck, which seemed to make it’s way around the front. I looked over at Kurt and saw him squirm, as if he had just seen something utterly disgusting, looking down I could see red droplets falling to the ground, some hitting my shirt, I wondered if Kevin had gotten cut, while reaching for me. Then he pulled the remains of the wire away slowly, and I could see the remnants of dirt covered blood on its spike, and Kevin asked if I was okay.

I nodded I was and smiled and tried to ask how the table top looked, but still nothing came out. Kevin had a water bottle with him, and offered me some, and that’s when I knew why I couldn’t talk, as I took the 1^st swallow, my neck flexed, and a pain seared around my head, it felt like when I had my tonsils removed but all around, I went to touch it to find out why but Kevin grabbed my hand to stop me. He then doused the back of my neck and the front, as the pin intensified like salt being rubbed into an open wound. As I leaned forward to let the water fall over my shoulders, I could see the blood was clearly coming from me. We walked to Kurt and Kevin’s house, and that when I saw the extent of the damage.

When I had gone through the fence, I had enough force to pull the posts out of the ground on both sides. The loud bang was one posts concrete bases, breaking a branch off a mesquite tree as it flew towards its epicenter. Luckily the other edges were newer and secured in concrete, which is how the slab blow the cliff was formed, the leftover concrete was simply dumped over the edge. No one knew if I blacked out, because it took them a bout 5 minutes to get to me, but then they saw that the wire had wrapped itself around the bike and the concrete base of one of the posts had fallen over the edge and was pulling everything down with it. Kevin didn’t want me to move because the wire had made its way around my neck, thus if the bike went over the edge, it would have choked me, and there would have been nothing to stop it. The blood had come from where the wire had wrapped itself around my neck and the spikes had pierced through the skin and were scrapping there way around with each inch I moved down the side. Kurt though I couldn’t talk because I was in shock, but pointed out I couldn’t talk because of the pressure around my neck. I didn’t have to say anything, they already had “Dude you almost fucking died, no bullshit on that one!” I just filed it away in the other folder of reckless and stupid things I’ve done, it would be a years before I’d think back on it.

The summer of 1991, and we were on way to Mexico, as usual for the weekend debauchery. There were 3 cars with 4 people in each, all in the same seating arrangements, 2 in front, and one behind the driver’s seat. We had been coming to Nogales for close to a year or so now, and we had our routine down packed. Park at McDonalds, Walk through the border, across the tracks, hit up the Downstairs club called The Cave. After a bucket or 2 of iced over Corona’s, Tecate’s. Tequila Poppers and the random Whistler shot we’d meander down the side street to La Posta for another round, eventually making our way over to Harlows. However this time, was different, somewhere along the way we decided to go camping instead, as we found out on the way down it was election season. Election season in Mexico means a bad time for Americans to be across the border.

Was we drove along the desolate highway rode, we joked about, whatever had happened that week, when out of nowhere I high beams picked up an object in the middle of the road, a white owl. As we beared down on it, it took flight, with its full wing span, it grazed across the hood, and over the windshield without ever touching the car. The driver of the car I was in, had noticed it in the road, but only for a brief moment, as it soon disappeared from his sight as he scanned the upcoming turns, but mine stayed fixed on it, and watched it’s eyes fix upon my own. Once again I thought nothing of it.

20 minutes had passed and we were now antsy to get to the location, when the car fell silent. We looked ahead and saw a man propped up against the side of the road, ghostly pale. We were traveling to fast to stop, and we moved on. Once we got to the camp grounds, everyone form the car had something to say about it. Turns out only the driver, passenger, and the person behind the driver saw the man, and only one person in each car saw the owl in the road, in the same manner. One moment it was there, the next it was gone. Yet how was that possible, the cars were only a few hundred yards apart, the owl would have had to in a sense hop over each car and land again. If that were the case, the last car, the car I rode in, would have seen it way before the others and took some noticed to a car hopping white owl with a 5 ft wing span. Once again I thought nothing of it.

Almost a year later, a smaller caravan of my friends were headed back down again, this time to Mexico, when the same owl appeared twice in the evening, once in the same spot as before, and again as we reached the border. By this time I took notice of the owl, and actually began trying to tie the events together. I had a feeling it was a sign of sorts warning me of danger, but then I quickly put it out of my mind as we walked into the cave and settled in for a night of drinking and fun. Somehow or another, the group was split into 2 and the group I was in, stayed at the cave while the others went ahead to get a spot in La Posta. La Posta was maybe a 2 min walk from the bar we were in, the Cave, which equates to a 10-15 min drunken stumble. As we finally left to go meet the others, we smelled the scent of fresh grilled scent onions, and garlic, the street vendors was out. No matter how hungry were would have been, no one ever ate from him, either because of rumors of consequences, or because the rest of us wanted to continue drinking. As we made our way to La Posta, we noticed the front entrance was packed with a line headed around the building. Knowing there was a good chance of sneaking in the back, I walked around the side of the building closet to Harlows, to sneak a peek at the action inside the club we would eventually end up in.

As I approached the corner of the building, I leaned against the wall to light a cigarette, exhaling deeply, and looking up against the tarnished sky, filled with smog, and dust, across the street I saw him looking down upon me. Any other time I would have stopped and though about the events again, but as I had a very nice buzz going I proceeded, just as I step around the corner I cab came from behind me, and slammed on it’s breaks, skidding to a stop, no more than 50 ft from me. As I looked to see what was happening, and man ran leapt from a sill of a window along the same wall as I and started running towards me. Suddenly a voice rang out, in machine Spanish, followed by the clap of thunder, or so I thought, but there were no clouds in the sky, only dirt and smog. I turned to see if the man was going to run into me, when I saw him sprawled across the ground 10 ft from where I stood.

Run!

I ran towards, the back entrance of the La Posta and shoved the bouncer aside, ducking inside “MIRA, MIRA!”, pointing to him to look outside. He smirked and in broken English explained he was pimp, who had stolen money from one of the local drug dealer. He was there to pick up US girls to repay the debt, but his time had run up. He let me in, without charging me a cover.

Things were starting to make sense now, but I still couldn’t quite put them together. Half a decade passed and I had yet to see the owl again, but was constantly on the look out for it. Not so much like a crazed lunatic, but simply aware of my surroundings. It was the midst of one of Sierra Vista, big monsoon storms, when I saw the owl again. It had been raining for almost 3 days straight and didn’t appear to be clearing up anytime soon. Most night I spent hanging out with other friends, as the majority of the crew had moved away to college or joined some branch of the military. I was supposed to meet her to go out that night, and got to the door, and didn’t even bother knocking, I could hear she was already pre-occupied for the evening.

I drove an 84’ VW Sirocco, in those days; it to this day is probably one of the best cars I’ve owned. Easy to work on, great on gas and its hatchback makes a natural bass enhancer for 2 18 inch subs. The week before, out of joking around we knew my system could be heard a mile away, so when I know when I dropped bottom, she knew exactly who was leaving the tires tracks and smoke. Earlier that year, the hood had flown up due to a previous owner’s accident, and I was never able to get it back on correctly, thus I drove hoodless. This was great for hot days when the engine needed that extra amount of air to stay cool, but I had yet to discover what if anything happened when it rained, now was a good of time as any.

I floored the gas and sped away into the night, I was infuriated, I headed out on the road leading away from town, I didn’t want to deal with any traffic, I just wanted to get away, and get away as fast as my car would take me. The town of Sierra vista is surrounded by other towns, Benson, Tombstone, Whetstone, Hereford, Huachuca City, and of Course the base Fort Huachuca and what towns weren’t there it was blocked in sense by natural elements i.e. the mountains. Tombstone was the close t town that was actually considered a town on it’s own as all the others simply merged into Sierra Vista, there were 2 ways of getting there, either the old road next to Mustang Corners of Charleston Road next to my house. I had heard before that sometimes bike enthusiast will make the trek all the around, during semi annual bike events, so I figured why not drive it. It was far enough away to avoid city police, and close enough I wouldn’t have to worry about gas.

As I reached Mustang Corners, the rain had let up to enough to see almost a mile ahead. It was deserted, except for a single, flicker from broken coke machine, flashing to use correct change. I turned the cd player up and floor it, spitting rocks from the front side of the car, and edging to the side of the road. I let up enough to get traction and start moving forward and then floored it again, this time, connecting and rocketing towards the now fog engulf hills, on the desolate road rarely traveled.

As I reached half way through the fog thickened, and goose bumps, crept across my skins, the rage inside, shook it away, and I pressed on. Out of the dead of fog, I saw the owl, almost floating in front of me. It had grown, its wing spanned was at least 8 ft now, and it gave the impression it could engulf my entire car. As I neared it, curiosity got the better of me and I began to slow down, then from what seemed like the dead of night I screeched so loud I could hear it above the titanium tweets mounted on my dash board and mounted behind my seat upon the sub box. My ears rang, and it reminded me of the boiling rage I had experienced when I approached her door. I dropped it into 3^rd gear and gunned it, for a brief moment I thought about turning around, but decided I wouldn’t be ruled by fear no matter what. I knew at this time, the owl meant either danger or death, whether it was mine or someone else I was unsure of. Either way I’d be damned if I were going to stop living just because of it, at that very moment it gliding across the open hood, and windshield, for a split second I couldn’t see anything in front of me other than the under side of it’s body, it took up the entire field of vision through the windshield.

Catch me if you can I thought, as I now found my self racing along the road. Just as I approached a decent into a forge in the valley, it swooped down upon me again from behind, and it appeared to go to the ground, but I hit nothing, I thought about what would have happened if I did hit it, for surely it would have made at least a sound of pin, along with a left an explosion of feather. No on the contrary it simply appeared to have vanished into the ground, I looked to the sky to see if it were there, when something caught my eye in the road, something big, much bigger than the owl. A bull had wander into the road, no less than 100 ft in front of me, and was take it’s bearing on me, why you may ask, well the color of my car was red. I tried to brake, but I knew I would have enough room. I was doing 95 MPH, and I knew the damage that could be done by these creatures, as my high school teacher had died less than 2 yrs earlier form the same type of incident, going much slower but on a Harley.

At the last minute, I yanked the Emergency brake and cranked the wheel, as the bull let out a howl, the car veered to one side and then yanked to the other, spinning to one side; I wanted to close my eyes but knew I couldn’t. I looked up to see the bull turning into the car, and as our eyes met, there was an eerie familiarity to them; it was the owl’s eyes. The tires had caught the edge of the dirt next to the road enough to spin me in a 360, which turned out to be a little more than I wanted, but avoided the bull none the less. Finally coming to a stop, I got back on the road and rove back to where the Bull was at, yet it was nowhere to be seen.

I continued on, to tombstone without another incident. I stopped at a local convenient store and picked up a fresh pack of smokes and a drink and as I tuned to head to my car I saw the owl sitting across the street perched atop an electric pole, in all its rightfulness. I gave it a head nod, and smirked, knowing we were going to play again this evening.

The way back into town can be taken in tow ways as well, the same road I had just driven or a more winding and definitely dangerous road through the foothills. I say dangerous because at least each year 10 people are killed on that very same road including my aforementioned high school teacher. Speeding out of town, I wanted to get a jump on the owl; little did I realize there was no out running this manifestation. As I rounded a few of the turns I could see him gliding effortlessly just off the right side of the car in some places and the left on the others. It was as if he was floating on the wind tunnel the car was creating. Then as soon as he appeared it was gone, but only for a moment. I approached a somewhat tricky corner as, over the years the side as given way to the laws of nature and found him in the middle of the right lane. Moving over to the left, I look back and see why.

I reached the apex of the corner with a smug grin, which quickly turned into a look of terror, an ambulance with only it’s lights on, was speeding towards me, and had hugged the inside lane, the lane I should have been in. I reached for the emergency brake again, and yanked as hard as I could, but nothing happened. I awaited the worst, while trying to maintain control, through clutch braking, but there was nothing. I came to a stop, and got out. There was nothing, the ambulance hadn’t even stopped and had now turned off its light. The only reason I could see it was because of the light within the cabin. I sat on the side of the road and waited. He had to come back, this couldn’t be it. I needed to know what it was, why it was. 2 hrs later I found myself sitting alone in the dark, on the side of a road. He wasn’t coming back.

Later that night I pieced it all together, for the most part at least. The owl was an omen for me, a sign that grave danger was present, or that death was in the air. It’s been over 10 yrs; I’ve only seen the owl once since then. I heeded the omen this time and avoided and collision on my friend’s motorcycle, as I sped to work from Chandler to north Scottsdale at 137 MPH. I saw the owl at the off ramp, and then again on the outside lane to turn left. At 1^st I didn’t think about it, until it appeared to look down at the ground, I looked to what he was looking at or for, and saw the nailed riddled board, coming up fast, I leaned in, the furthest I have ever leaned on a bike, and missed the tires hitting the board by less than and inch, I looked up to see the back of a truck, sitting in the very same lane. As we stopped I turned and the owl was gone. I haven’t seen him since.