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The great American western “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance” is a cinematic paradox. It’s set in the Old West but it’s a movie that reaches our times.

“Valance” is the story of a town coming to grips with a bully who runs roughshod over the civility of its everyday life by using violence to get what he wants.

Lacking self-control, the bully turns the town of Shinbone into a vortex. His name is Liberty Valance or “bad violence man.”

Early on, we see Valance and his few spineless thugs — pawns of the territory’s cattle barons — hold up a stage and, after forcing the passengers out onto the road, strip them of their valuables.

When Valence starts to rip the pendant off the neck of a frightened old lady, the indignant passenger next to her intervenes and for his act of courage is beaten close to death.

The man of courage is Jimmy Stewart, a lawyer by trade who’s headed west with satchels of books to teach the frontier how to settle differences without the use of violence. Stewart is “rule of law man.”

From the outset then, we see the rule of law beaten into submission by bad violence, making us believe that violence will be the way things’ll get done in the territory.

But John Wayne is in the movie, too: a middle-aged, purposely-driven, psychologically-detached, one-dimensional rancher who looks formidably-handsome in his white ten-gallon hat. He has dibs on the lady at the diner, which everybody in town knows.

They, including Valance, also know that the Duke is the toughest man, the fastest gun, in the territory. In a tense standoff between the Duke and bad violence man in the diner where the Duke’s gal works, Valance is forced to beat it out of town, his tail between his legs.

Valance, the Duke says, is “the toughest man south of the Picketwire … next to me.” We can see he’s a man not to fool with. “Out here,” he says, “a man settles his own problems.” The Duke is “good violence man.”

He’s at the other end of the spectrum from Valance but it’s still the spectrum of violence.   

And because good violence man beat bad violence man, and bad violence man beat rule of law man, we conclude that good violence can beat the rule of law as well — with a gun if need be.

The movie’s not even halfway through and already we see the rule of law stretched out on the ground with the black boot of violence — good and bad — standing on its neck.

Because his identity is based in the shaky foundation of power, Valance is thin-skinned. When he sees a story on the front page of the “Shinbone Star” critical of his mania, he throws a fit, raging about “fake news.”

He heads to the paper with his thugs and beats Mr. Peabody, the affable, bibulous publisher-editor, into nothingness just like he did with rule of law man.

Valance doesn’t want to be reminded of the weaknesses everyone knows he has. The paper articulates how bullying continues to bring pain and suffering to people’s lives — not the cattle barons Valance works for but the regular, everyday folk who strive to make Shinbone a cordial community.

Fast forward to the end — how we get there is explained in between — and we find the rule of law man forced into a showdown (on the main street of town) with Valance. The choice is clear: the rule of law or bullydom as the prevailing social ethic.

We all know the tenderfoot from the East is no match for a seasoned gunslinger especially when his weapon looks like a broken cap gun. Drawing his gun, bad violence man toys with the rule of law like a cat administering flesh wounds to a mouse.

Tired of the hunt, Valance aims his gun to drill the sockets of the law man’s eyes. Law man raises his piece and Valance falls down dead in the street. There is rejoicing: the rule of law has prevailed over bully-violence, the wicked witch is dead.

Thus the once-mocked agent of law is now revered as the man who brought evil down, who dismissed the use of violence as an ethic of worth. For his bravery, rule of law man is selected to represent the territory in its move toward statehood.

But halfway through the nominating convention — through a strange turn of events — Shinbone’s holy hero is told by good violence man that the law did not bring Valance down but he did, working with a Winchester from the shadows of an alley.

The revelation is disorienting. The rule of law did not bring bad violence down but good violence did. The law did not have the juice to take bad violence down; it took a “good” gun-packing bully disguised in the white hat of justice to do it.

Every day of the week on television, I see public officials, news anchors, political pundits, and people of the most conservative political ilk, call Donald Trump a bully with zero respect for the rule of law. Some say Trump is a gunslinger of sorts.

When I watched “Valance” the other day, Trump came to mind, an hombre who makes fun of the rule of law, who beats down the Mr. Peabodys of the world, and steps on anyone who stands in the way of his selfhood.

When this bully’s wife was most vulnerable after having a baby, he bedded a porn star to satisfy his adolescent libido. He himself says his needs take precedence over those of the collective —  the rule of law be damned! In one way or another, he reiterates: I’m the fastest gun in Shinbone, try me.

On my list of the top 25 westerns of all time, “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance” is Number One. “Shane,” “Red River,” “The Searchers,” “My Darling Clementine,” “The Ox-Bow Incident,” “High Noon,” and “Stagecoach” are not far behind.

In a review of a Harvard Square Theater production of “Valance” in the March 18, 1967 issue of “The Harvard Crimson,” Tim Hunter wrote that the director, John Ford, was “not interested in reality but in [a] subjective viewpoint, not fact but romance and legend.”

But such an assessment is wrong. Ford wants America to see there are times when “the people” are tempted to adopt violence as a way to govern and will mock the rule of law on its way to self-destruction.

When you view “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance” you wonder if the rule of law does in fact have the juice to keep violence — good and bad — in check, and whether the United States today, as has happened at other times in history, will let the black boot of violence stand on its neck without uttering a sigh of indignation.

 One September weekend in the mid-1890s found Fred DeGraff of Guilderland Hamlet and four friends mounting their wheels, pedaling over to Pittstown to visit a friend while, on another I.K. Stafford, Fred Keenholts and Andrew Oliver traveled from Altamont to New Jersey to Asbury Park for an extensive cycle tour.

They reported to The Enterprise, “The wheeling in New Jersey was very fine.” As interest and participation in cycling spread, The Enterprise was abuzz with local bicycle news during the decade of the 1890s, often called the Golden Age of the Bicycle.

This craze for wheels, as bicycles were then commonly called, took off in the 1890s as the technological advances of the previous decade came together to create a practical modern bicycle. It began with the concept of two spoked wheels of equal size on a tubular frame followed by the invention of pneumatic tires to provide a smoother ride and propulsion from pedals connected to a chain driven sprocket.

However, early braking systems were less than adequate until the invention of the coaster brake in 1898. Wheels didn’t come cheap, ranging from $25 for a used bicycle in the mid-1890s to over $100 for the finest models in 1890s’ dollars, a luxury for most people at that time.

Advertisements of bicycles for sale showed up in The Enterprise as early as 1890, some inserted by the manufacturers themselves. Monarch Cycle Co.’s appeared frequently, claiming theirs was “absolutely the best” with elegant designs and unsurpassed workmanship using the finest materials.

H.A. Lozier & Co. not only bragged about the Cleveland bicycle’s construction, but added the practical information that its “resilient” tire could be repaired “quicker and easier than any other tire in the market.” Several Albany dealers jumped into the market and, sensing a good business opportunity, some Altamont men began selling wheels and advertising their wares in the paper as well.

“Notes From Gotham,” a July 1893 Enterprise front-page column, noted there was “a growing interest in bicycling as an amusement,” claiming that there was “a popular craze” for the sport, “destined to be the most popular form of outdoor entertainment that has ever engaged the American people.”

While bicycle owners could be found in all parts of Guilderland, by far most cyclists seemed to be concentrated in Altamont, so many that in 1893 sixteen men joined together to organize “The Altamont Wheelmen.” After electing officers headed by I.K. Stafford, plans were made to find club rooms.

Soon they moved into “commodious” and “airy” rooms on the second floor of J.S. Secors new warehouse where a new coal stove supplied not only heat but hot water for the bathtub they installed! It was claimed that they had a “very cozy room and it makes a pleasant place to spend one’s evenings, if they must be spent from home.” A year later for reasons not given, they moved to space over the post office

Immediately after the club’s formation, its members began planning runs to Amsterdam, Albany via Voorheesville, Guilderland Center, Averill Park, South Bethlehem, Slingerlands, and Sloan’s (now Guilderland Hamlet). Remembering the dirt roads of that time, this was an ambitious undertaking but reports in the ensuing weeks indicate that they really did pedal their wheels to these destinations.

As 1894 came to a close, 36 men had been voted into membership, especially once it was made known that actually being a wheelman wasn’t a requirement to becoming a member. The Wheelmen had become not only a cycle club, but a male social club as well.

At the last meeting of 1894, members were treated to an oyster supper, followed by “soft drinks” and cigars, all this hosted for the 25 men present by the club’s president I.K. Stafford and Altamont bicycle dealer Fred Keenholts.

Another dinner the next year mentions an “elaborate spread, merriment and good cheer.” Another type of social function were “smokers” where the men entertained themselves with reminiscences of the past season’s cycling “through columns of smoke.”

“Bicycle Notes,” a sporadic column appearing in The Enterprise, related the latest bicycle chatter from around town, including the names of those who had recently purchased a new or used bicycle. Abe Tygert got a high-grade Niagara while Andrew Ostrander purchased a 22-pound Relay — those were just two of the many proud owners identified over the decade.

If used, the previous owner’s name was also listed: “Lucius Frederick is the possessor of a wheel, having purchased the one ridden by Aaron Oliver last season, and Chas. Stevell who now rides the wheel which J. Van Benscoten rode during 1894.”

Ladies, too

Appearance and manners were topics once touched on in “Bicycle Notes” when the writer, pleased that more riders were sitting upright, described any rider as “silly” to “hump” himself over the handlebars unless racing. And ladies should always sit upright so as not to “stoop in the slightest degree.”

Noting that pedestrians had the right of way, cyclists were to respect them and, in addition, to avoid running down children and old people. His parting comment was, “There are all sorts of road hogs in the world and it is regretted some of them ride bicycles … Young boys and fresh young men are the greatest offenders.”

A rumor appeared in “Bicycle Notes” that some of the ladies were learning to ride and soon their names began to show up in print. Miss Blanche Warner’s wheel was a “handsome new Remington,” while Miss J. Libbie Osborn chose an Erie. Herbert Winne finally bought a used bike to enable him to accompany his wife, the experienced rider of the family. Unlike the men, women were never mentioned riding any distance from home.

Risky business

Racing appealed greatly to younger, athletic riders and quickly became a popular local spectator sport with the racetrack at the fairgrounds the perfect venue for competition. Independence Day, the Altamont Hose Company’s Field Day and Clam Bake, and the Altamont Fair itself all became occasions for bicycle races.

Prizes were given in cash, objects such as a $5 clock or certificates for merchandise at Albany stores. Often local wheelmen traveled out of town to participate in races. Pity Lew Hart who lost count of the number of laps in a Cobleskill race and missed being one of the winners.

Being a wheelman was a risky business due to inadequate brakes; locally hilly, rutted roads; and in some cases the riders’ own inexperience. One time at the fairgrounds, three entrants tangled during a race resulting in bruises and badly mangled bicycles. During another race, Elias Stafford had his ego rather than his body bruised after a spill at the race track when the paper commented the next week, “The spectacle was too ludicrous for anything.”

Guilderland Center resident John Stewart took a bad spill on the curvy hill at Frenchs Hollow, but the most tragic accident befell an Albany man out riding with James Keenholts near Altamont. He was seriously injured after losing control as he turned his wheel, going down off a bridge near Altamont onto some rocks below.

After Dr. Barton tended to his obvious injuries, he was helped to board the evening train heading to Albany. “It is feared he is hurt internally” was the comment in the next week’s Enterprise.

L.A.W. and order

The League of American Wheelmen, an organization promoting cycling and good roads, had been formed in the 1880s. So many Americans were swept up in the bicycle craze that by 1898 membership in L.A.W. topped 102,000 including some of the Altamont Wheelmen. I.K. Stafford, one of the founders and president of the Altamont Wheelmen, became sanctioned by L.A.W. to officiate bicycle races, which he did at the Altamont Fair for many, many years.

Long before automobiles were traveling the nation’s highways, L.A.W. began to press for improved roads for cyclists, preferably paved. Locally, there was a call for cycle paths, at that time more commonly called sidepaths.

By 1898, pressure from wheelmen forced the Albany County Board of Supervisors to create a County Sidepath Commission. Routes out of Albany were being considered and of course, a route to Altamont through Guilderland Hamlet and Guilderland Center was hoped for by residents here.

A sidepath went out as far as Albany Country Club (now the University at Albany campus) east of McKownville with William Witbeck extending it west as far as his tavern (site of present day Burger King), but it never went beyond that, although sidepaths were laid out from Albany to Schenectady and from Albany to Slingerlands.

The Enterprise reported the discovery that, not only did the cyclists like the sidepaths, but pedestrians found “that it makes a very desirable walk.” In 1902, it was reported the Albany County Sidepath Commission had spent $5,000 building new paths and repairing old ones. License badges — “same price as last year” — had to be attached to bicycles.

Wheeling was difficult enough over the poor country roads, but the lack of signs made finding your way, once out of your own immediate area, maddening. By 1896, The Enterprise demanded that “sign boards should be erected at every crossroad in the town” for travelers and especially the many out-of-town cyclists who passed through.

Within a few months, it was announced that L.A.W. would begin placing in all parts of the state blue metal road signs with raised yellow lettering that would identify the village or hamlet and give the distance to the next one.

As is typical of developments in American technology, prices of wheels came down, the market became saturated, owning a bicycle was no longer so fashionable, and a new technology had arrived to take the bicycle’s place. If he felt there was nothing “to be compared with the exhilarating excitement in riding a light running and responsive wheel,” wait until the wheelman had his first automobile ride!

Within a few years, membership fell so low that L.A.W. and the Altamont Wheelmen were disbanded and bicycles were relegated to children.

There’s a bit that legendary comedian George Carlin used to do that went something like this: If you don’t like AT&T, build your own.

That’s kind of cynical, of course, but it gets to the frustration we all feel when big corporate behemoths like phone, cable, and utility companies rub us the wrong way. This rang home with me recently, as I didn’t build my own AT&T, but I did build my own MTV.

In case you don’t know, MTV stands for Music Television. This is one of the iconic, original, and groundbreaking cable TV channels.

MTV created the “music video,” the visual equivalent of a song on the radio where you could actually see the performers. This was so cool at the time that “I want my MTV!” became a national catchphrase. It truly was a revelation back in the day, and it’s reverberations are still felt now more than ever, since virtually everyone has digital video — that is, a smartphone — in their pockets all the time.

When MTV first came out, I wanted it bad but couldn’t get it, as my neighborhood in Brooklyn was very late to get wired for cable. I had to visit friends on Long Island to watch MTV, and that’s just what I did. We’d watch it for hours. Some videos were true creative works of art, others not so much, but just to see the faces of the musicians was enough. What an amazing addition to the timeless enjoyment of music.

When I was finally able to get MTV for myself, I used to just put it on and let it play all day. Sometimes I’d watch, but other times I’d cook or clean or pay bills and just listen to it in the background, very much like radio.

Then some corporate “suits” decided that nobody was watching MTV for long enough blocks at a time, so they pulled all the music videos and became more like a regular network. The shows they put on in place of the videos were regrettable and forgettable, for the most part.

The thing is, when MTV played only music videos, my friends and I often had it on all day, never changing the channel at all. So we obviously heard or saw all the commercials. Isn’t that what they want, for you to get their advertising?

I don’t know, it must have worked out in their favor, as the only time they show videos now is in the middle of the night or on an alternate channel. Maybe the suits were right; I don’t know, but I know my friends and I stopped watching it a long time ago.

So the other day I was searching for something on YouTube and just for laughs put in one of my favorite musical artists, and there was the video. One thing led to another and I discovered just about all the old videos are there. So I started saving them, and now I can view them on my TV. Yay. It’s like MTV without the “VJs” (the video equivalent of radio disc jockeys).

The really interesting thing about doing this is, when you search for an artist, they present not only the artist but related ones that you might also enjoy. I’ve discovered several new artists that I didn’t know about since I don’t read the music magazines obsessively these days like I did when I was a teenager. Discovering new artists has been a really great result of this project.

For a little while, I worried if it was legal to save these videos, but then I thought of this: For many of these artists, I bought the vinyl record when it first came out, then I bought it again on tape to play in the car, then I bought it yet again on CD when this much-more-convenient format came out.

I figure, since in many cases I’ve paid for the same music three times, it’s OK to save some videos. And I’m not an iTunes guy either, meaning, when I like an artist, I still buy the physical CD, both to have for myself and some to give as gifts. It’s too bad the artwork is not as enjoyable as it was when vinyl records ruled — the size is just too small to have the same effect.

Even though I now have my own MTV it’s not like the old days, when my buddies and I would watch it in someone’s basement. In my house, I’m allowed to have music play only at a conversational volume.

I have to wait until everyone leaves before I can “crank it up,” as they say. Then it’s just like the old days, except way back then it would have been good old rock ’n’ roll almost exclusively. On “my” MTV, I of course have that, but I also have opera, jazz, even some country and a little rap. It’s an eclectic mix for sure.

Of course, not all my favorite artists came of age in the MTV era. For the earlier artists, it’s interesting what is out there. You might find a clip of them on The Ed Sullivan Show, or perhaps just some pictures of them as the song plays. Whatever it is, it’s just great to know that they’re out there for a new generation of music lovers to discover and enjoy for themselves.

With apologies to George Carlin, building my own AT&T is just too daunting of a task to even consider. Building my own MTV works just fine for me.

It was a really good Tuesday morning on June 5 with the Old Men of the Mountain meeting at the Duanesburg Diner in Duanesburg.  All the morning welcomers acknowledged each group of OMOTM as they came into the restaurant.

This is similar to the opening of the old TV show “Cheers” — only the places the OMOTM visit on Tuesday mornings are not the type of places that promote “cirrhosis of the liver.”

(This scribe, after typing the morning opening, thought about the name of a large boat which was parked at a dock on the Route 5S side of the Mohawk River near a nice restaurant just south of the Fonda-Fultonville bridge. The boat was named “Cirrhosis of the River.”)

Now is the time for new birth. Eggs are hatching, young rabbits are scurrying, and the deer are having their young.

Two OFs mentioned spotting young fawns along the side of the road. One OF brought in a picture of a fawn (he took the picture with his phone) which had to be no more than a few hours old. This, too, was alongside the road.

The OFs thought that these young animals — being brought up right alongside the highway — are either going to be very road-wise and look in both directions before crossing, or they are not going to pay any attention to vehicles; they will just leisurely cross the road because the road sounds will be so familiar to them.  

Along with this new birthing time, the OFs mentioned how few of the little creatures we see now. Woodchucks were a prime example of this dialogue; raccoons were another, and even skunks were mentioned.

The OFs said that, when one of these youngsters is spotted, it is noted what, when, and where, and so can be brought up as conversation fodder at these breakfasts.  

However, there are always exceptions. Some exceptions that have been seen in abundance this year are carpenter bees. They seem to be all over the place.

A short discussion followed on what to do to get rid of these bees because of the damage they do. The consensus was: “There is not much we can do.”

The most positive solution was to get a tennis or badminton racket and swat them to the ground and step on them. This sounds cruel, but it’s necessary, if the OF doesn’t want his house or shed falling down.

OFs take their time

One OF uttered a very true statement that included all the OFs. The OF noted that, when the OFs were contemplating a project together with other OFs, it now takes three of us to craft something impressive, as well as four times the amount of time.

He continued, “You guys are talking like we will go and work on this job and it will be over in an hour or so. Not so; I better plan on having supper at your house.” Pretty clever, some of these OFs.

Going back in time

The OFs talked about back in time. Like this scribe says, the OFs are time-jumpers.

This time, they were talking about (way back) carrying with them baling twine or baling wire, friction tape, a hammer, a pair of pliers, and a screwdriver so it was possible to fix anything. Now the OFs say all that is needed is a roll of duct tape and wrap “it” up and “it” is good to go.

However, one OF said there are way too many products made now that are so complicated all the OFs can do is stand and stare at whatever it is no matter how many tools they have. One OF said it is impossible to find bailing wire now anyway and who knows what friction tape is.

Memorial Day

A couple of weeks ago, it was Memorial Day and the OFs were discussing what they did with parades and family get-togethers and visiting gravesites. The OFs who had been in the military did the same and some attended the ceremonies in the small town in which they lived that represented the meaning of the day.

But some of the OFs mentioned that the crowds that used to be in attendance at these occasions seemed to be getting smaller and some events were even canceled.

One OG’s family worked very hard on Memorial Day. The work they did made Memorial Day much more pleasant for others, and saved a lot of moms, and maybe dads, a ton of work.

This OF’s family put on a public chicken barbecue in front of the Knox Reformed Church. That is one way to celebrate the holiday, and help others celebrate it at the same time.

Then there were those who worked on and in parades, or participated at ceremonies that honored the veterans. Even the OFs who were physically unable to participate went to watch those who were marching, so the marchers are not parading just for the cows and horses.

The OFs who made it especially early to the Duanesburg Diner in Duanesburg (it may be the sun that gets them up) were: Roger Chapman, Miner Stevens, George Washburn, Robie Osterman, Pete Whitbeck, Bill Lichliter, Dave Williams, Bill Bartholomew, Roger Shafer, Chuck Aelesio, Ray Frank, John Rossmann, Harold Guest, Art Frament, Glenn Patterson, Mark Traver, Otis Lawyer, Mace Porter, Herb Bahrmann, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, Wayne Gaul, Gerry Irwin, Bob Benninger, Bob Fink, Joe Rack, Mike Willsey, Gerry Chartier, Allen DeFazzo, Elwood Vanderbilt, Harold Grippen, and me.

On a rare pleasant day for the Old Men of the Mountain, the Old Men of the Mountain met at the Your Way Café in Schoharie on Tuesday, May 29, to discuss whatever happened the week before. Not much for some — yet lots for others.

One OF went with another older person to visit a younger person. The younger person who was visited brought up an unusual topic during the conversation, i.e., “Why don’t weeds grow on ant hills — only grass?” This actually required no answer and the two visiting had no reply because neither had a clue.

The one OF asked this same question at this morning’s breakfast and had the same response from the OFs that he had visiting the younger person. The question remains, “Why does only grass grow on ant hills and not weeds?”

This scribe went home and checked out the ant-hill question. This scribe mows about three acres and has lots of ant hills. Checking the ant hills, this scribe found that the foregoing statement was nearly correct.

In seven out of 10 ant hills, seven had only grass growing on them and three ant hills (and this was quite a colony so it may be considered just one) had a vine-like weed covering most of the ant colony, and a small section had nothing growing on it yet.

Cutlery question

Another OF had an observation that was in the form of a question and the OF asked this question at the breakfast. Question: “Does flatware seem to be getting thinner and smaller?”

This question did have a reply and the OFs seemed to agree with the OF now that they thought about it at the breakfast. One OF said he has had a fork bend trying to cut into the hard crust on the bottom of a piece of pie.

Another OF said he didn’t think it was the cutlery but the OF’s sense of touch has lessened and he was trying to cut through the plate.

“Well, it should have cut the plate anyhow,” the OF replied. “It was a paper plate.”

Yet another OF said, “Maybe, but it all depended on how much that OF wanted to spend on his flatware.” This OF said, “There is a happy medium.”

This OF also grumbled about some flatware that is big and clunky so that it is hard to use. This OF complained that the heavy fancy cutlery, especially spoons, does not scoop up the good stuff in a bowl of soup, and generally there is no depth to the spoon. When the OF arrives at the supposed bottom of the bowl with the big spoon, there is still so much soup left that the OF has to pick up the bowl and sip the rest out.

Hot topic

The OFs discussed the eruption of Mt. Kilauea in Hawaii. They discussed the fantastic photos of the lava pouring out of the cracks in the Earth.

What brought this up was the turnaround of people wanting to go to the island. The OFs mentioned that the tourists visiting Hawaii have dropped by 50 percent.

One OF said unless anyone is going to the area around where the volcano is mad because they have stopped offering up goodies to the volcano gods and the volcano is letting the inhabitants know who is boss. The rest of the island is pretty big and, if it weren’t for the news, most of the island people would not even know what was going on.

The OFs went from Hawaii to Alaska and that was because the discussion on the eruption led to talk of the geothermal electric plant that is in the way of the lava flow. One OF mentioned the geothermal power plants in Alaska and how efficient they are and they use no fuel whatsoever.

Another OF mentioned that, until the eruption, geothermal as source of power for running power plants was really not known by the general populace. This OF said it has been mostly solar, wind, and occasionally the tides that we hear about.

Trials of travel

This scribe reports on this occasionally and it is because, as stated before, the OFs are OFs; therefore, aging is a topic of discussion often. This time, it was what the OFs used to do physically and what the OFs are limited to now — not all but many of us.

One limitation is getting up and down; the other is: When did they start putting things up so high?  The OFs have trouble reaching things.

When did getting in and out of a vehicle become a project? When did getting out of a chair require pushing on the arms? When did sitting down mean looking for a hard chair instead of one of those chairs you sink into? When did just taking off on a two-day trip change from throwing your ditty bag and some clean underwear into the vehicle and taking off?

Now it is plan the pills, plan the route for rest areas with bathrooms, and where will the OF be in a couple hours of travel, is there a McDonald’s close by? This goes on until eventually the OFs says: The heck with it; let’s just stay home; tain’t worth the hassle.

Some of the OFs agreed with a lot of this, especially the McDonald’s being so strategically spaced. One OF said that, when on trips, they have purchased a lot of coffee at McDonald’s, even while they have full thermoses in the car.  

Those Old Men of the Mountain who found traveling was not much of a chore when making their way to the Your Way Café in Schoharie were: Miner Stevens, Roger Chapman, George Washburn, Robie Osterman, Harold Guest, John Rossmann, Bill Lichliter, Chuck Aelesio, Ray Frank, Dave Williams, Bill Bartholomew, Otis Lawyer, Mark Traver, Glenn Patterson, Pete Whitbeck, Joe Rack, Mace Porter, Lou Schenck, Jack Norray, Herb Bahrmann, Ted Feurer, Wayne Gaul, Gerry Irwin, Bob Benninger, Bob Fink, Mike Willsey, Gerry Chartier, Duncan Bellinger, Elwood Vanderbilt, Harold Grippen, and me.