When I was in my early twenties I took a motorcycle trip with some people I worked with and various other friends. There were probably five or six bikes and half the riders had a female companion to ride on the back. We had a four day weekend at work so we left Reno headed south, going on a tour.

We met at my house near the intersection of 395 and Mt Rose Highway, which was way out of town back then, headed south on 395 and went over Tioga pass into California. It was fall, maybe September, so, even though it had been warm in Reno, it was a cold traverse across the pass. Our intention was to drive around the foothills of Central California, camping when we got tired and stopping at bars when we were thirsty and a burger here and there; No plans other than drive some miles and see some stuff.

One of the girls on the trip was named Honey. Her name was fitting, she was one. She was also married to one of my co-workers who had not gotten the weekend off and didn’t have a motorcycle anyway, so Honey was riding behind one of the guys along for the trip. She was always the one to recommend bar stops. By the way, Honey’s husband was Danny Cantaloupe. That fit as well.

We drove around to all the little towns in the foothills east of the Stockton and Modesto area, towns like Jamestown, Murphys, and Sonora. We were at one of those towns in a bar in the late afternoon on our second day in, having a beer and planning the evening festivities and camping options. Honey Cantaloupe was drinking beer. Maybe even two at a time. She was getting loud, having a good time, and being obnoxious, but cute.

We ate dinner at the little cafe next door to the bar and then went down the road to find a camp spot. We found a place and proceeded to mark out our spots, and most of us were determined to get set up then go back to the bar. I kept getting little snippets of the Honey situation. She was pretty full on drunk and getting belligerent, I wasn’t really paying her much attention, but I think she was egging on a couple of the guys to shack up for a while and deriding them for saying no. At any rate, there was friction and it was escalating.

A couple of the guys stayed at camp and the rest of us went back to the bar. I played pool the whole evening, staying on the table pretty much all the time. There was a band and dancing, lots of noise, and I was engrossed in 9 Ball, but I was aware that Honey Cantaloupe was really getting bad sloppy. And she was in a very foul mood.

We decided to leave and when we got outside Honey decided she was gonna drive one of the motorcycles. The guy who owned it told her to stay off the bike and Honey got really mad. She started screaming at the dude, swinging her arms around, and punching him. She wasn’t really hurting him, but he backed off, she climbed on his bike and promptly fell over. She was too drunk to avoid getting crushed and the bike landed hard on her. Now she was screaming in pain besides her tantrum screams.

We finally got her onto the back of one of the bikes and drove back to our camp. She was inconsolable. She wasn’t having a  tantrum anymore, she was in pain. I was tired, I wasn’t drunk, but I wanted to sleep, so I packed it in and fell asleep.

I was awakened sometime later. I could hear Honey, still crying, and getting hysterical. A couple of the guys decided she needed to go see a doctor. My bike was the biggest and it had a backrest for the passenger, so I was elected to cart her broken ass to town. We found a clinic in town, though it was late, and a couple of the guys took Honey in. I sat outside. The drama was more than I wanted, Honey had completely blown the impression I had of her as my friend’s wife and the thought crossed my mind that their marriage was probably going to be short-lived.

Hours later they came out with Honey. She had a sling on and a handful of pills. She had broken her collarbone. She was quiet finally. We got back to camp and I didn’t hear any more from her. I don’t know what drugs she was given, but she was out.

The next morning someone took Honey Cantaloupe to town and put her on a bus home. We finished out our weekend motorcycle tour and had no more notable adventures. Honey and Danny Cantaloupe split up soon after, so she became Honey Combs, or whatever it was, again. She was still cute.