Tombstone’s Marshalls—A Fist Full of Days with Dad on Gold Wings

“There’s a feeling I get when I look to the west and my spirit is crying for leaving.”

The line from “Stairway to Heaven” weighed heavily on my heart as I waited to board the big bird to Tucson, AZ, for another visit with my dad. The miracle of it all is that he’s still able to swing a leg over a motorcycle—and he likes the fast ones. 

My earliest memory of a motorcycle was of dad’s 1982 Honda CBF750F. I remember him telling me how fast it was and how he’d ridden it all the way to Florida and back. 

The Cherry Hill Road Farm we lived on when I was a kid was where I first bonded with a machine of my own. The Honda four-wheeler provided my first taste of freedom through the 160 acres of mixed forest, riversides, and rolling green hills. The farm contained a trail system that flowed through the three landscapes and back to the barn as if it were the Nürburgring. 

Our relationship wasn’t always rosy, but the good times outweighed the bad. My dad knew the Beast from the East motocross legend Damon Bradshaw’s family through horses, and we scored one of Damon’s practice bikes so I could get my bearings on it. 

We traveled hundreds of miles together for motocross practice in East Bend, NC, on week nights and thousands of miles to races throughout the Southeast on the weekends. He was always with me at the gate, massaging my shoulders and saying a prayer for safety.

In his business, dad worked hard to help people with their insurance needs, like his dad did when he started in 1951. In the evenings, he switched from Clark Kent in Italian business attire to Superman in boots and jeans. 

The thing that made him tick the most was growing things like trees, dogs, horses, and sons.

The Desert Wind

Dad had always wanted to go west, so he put his flag in the land of year-round sunshine in southern Arizona. He made new friends and lived life to the fullest on bicycles, dance floors, and pickleball courts. 

On my previous visits, he had lived in a tour bus that looked like something Aerosmith would’ve used at the Western Way Resort near the entrance to the Saguaro National Park. I knew his wishes were to be with the king of all motorcycles and to be in love. He now had both.

When I arrived, a steady desert wind filled the morning and didn’t go away until some time the next day. Dad and his fiancée Reyme warned me not to spend too much time in the wind, but their advice somehow blew in through one ear and out the other. 

Now, I know that Valley fever is very real. Fungal spores from the Arizona soil get stirred up by the wind, and they can cause an infection. Oblivious to it, I set up a chair on the front porch with my back to the wind and dozed off for a nap. 

After dinner, dad brought me up to speed on his new appreciation of MotoGP. We chatted about the plan for the next day: to visit one of the original family Honda motorcycle dealerships and pick up two 50th Anniversary Gold Wings.

Musselman Honda

I woke up the next morning feeling like I had sandpaper in my throat. Dad felt it too, but we hitched a ride to Musselman Honda anyway to pick up our Gold Wings. 

Honda roots run deep for the Manning men, and it only seemed right to plan this tour aboard the iconic flagship touring machine. There’s no better way to honor the miles behind us and the road ahead. 

Musselman Honda was set against the backdrop of the picturesque Santa Catalina Mountains and filled with a feeling of nostalgia. The museum was the core of it, with rare Honda motorcycles, generators, and a Gold Wing puzzle from 40 years ago. 

After the Musselman experience, we packed some essentials in the Gold Wings and rolled out on a red carpet of flat six torque toward the Saguaro National Park. 

This was my first time on a Gold Wing and the ergonomics had me at hello. The engine resurrected memories of the Porsche 911 dad owned when I was a kid. 

Looking back, my motorcycles spanned the entire range, but I never could pull that trigger for such a sporty and luxurious ride. Then something happened, and I found myself in a sweet spot where getting a Gold Wing was possible. 

On the first few miles out, a rush of emotions came over me. How perfect, I thought, that this moment aligned with the 50th anniversary model. 

In my mind, the 1833cc engine of the sixth generation Gold Wing was symbolic of a year dad could have been born and thrived in—a time when cattle ranchers were born and the famous cowboys of the silver screen were still on the horizon.

Our head colds matured, and every time I sneezed inside my helmet, dad was sure to let me know he heard it through the Cardos. We carved our way to Tucson, over Gates Pass, and into the Saguaro National Park. 

We were kings of the Sonoran Desert.

Mount Lemmon and the Tempe Police

On our second day, we met up with our friend and fellow motorcyclist Thom for a twist of Mount Lemmon up the scenic Catalina Hwy in the morning. The afternoon was reserved for mural hunting in downtown Tucson. 

At over 9,000 feet above sea level, the summit of Mount Lemmon is the highest in the Santa Catalina Mountains. The views up and down are a masterclass in cinematography. Thom was on his Indian Challenger and could not keep up with me on my Gold Wing. 

We reached the village of Summerhaven on Mount Lemmon and discovered a dozen parked Tempe Police BMW RTs taking a break while out on a long training ride. I’m familiar with the German boxer and could compare it to the character of the Gold Wing. 

There’s a big difference in attitude, feeling, emotion, and sound between the exhaust notes on BMW’s flat twin and the Gold Wing’s flat six. The BMW produces more of a staccato rhythm, short and detached like a tractor, compared to the smooth legato rhythms of the Gold Wing. 

The BMW boxer is limited to six gears, while the Gold Wing’s surprisingly wonderful DCT gearbox contains seven. The extra gear allowed the engine to churn along at an easy 3,000 rpm with the cruise control set to 80 mph on the freeway. 

Both the BMW and the Gold Wing deliver power through a shaft drive, creating instant connection from the throttle to the rear wheel, compared to their chain-driven counterparts. The cockpit and DCT sport mode on the Gold Wing made me feel like I was driving something like an F1 car, and the reverse gear made getting in and out of tight spots a breeze.

The RTs paid their respects to the King of Kings and back down the mountain we went, full of double shot lattes.

We rolled into downtown Tucson as the 5 p.m. traffic was making its exodus. Tucson is a city flowing with folk art, and several of its tallest buildings double as canvases for giant murals that come to life in the golden hours. 

We weaved through the chaos of pedestrians and train tracks with ease to the famous El Charro Café for plates full of homemade guacamole and the best mole enchiladas we’ve ever had.

Afterward, we exchanged the city lights for the darkness of the desert. The Gold Wings’ powerful headlights exposed the world in front of me as I carved through the desert going home, keeping a keen eye out for coyotes, javelinas, and whatever else might be on the run.

Back at the house, dad wanted to watch the local news before we retired for the night. A cowboy being interviewed at the Mescal Movie Set was talking about how Val Kilmer had just passed away and how the Mescal Movie Set was where Tombstone was filmed. 

Tombstone was one of dad’s favorite movies and one we’d seen together a hundred times. The movie set was in Benson, only an hour away, which really got me excited.

The Mission

The next morning, dad and I were on a mission. We secured movie set tour tickets for tomorrow and packed the Gold Wings for more local adventures, making the most of the time we had left on this visit.

Dad led us south on SR 86 to his favorite road, the smooth and twisty West Diamond Bell Ranch Rd. We then headed north again on South Mission Rd toward the oldest European structure in Arizona, about 10 miles south of Tucson on the Tohono O’odham Nation San Xavier Indian Reservation. 

The Gold Wings looked on with us in reverence as we stood in awe of the 300-year-old Mission San Xavier del Bac church. After a visit to the gift shop for a copper bracelet, we indulged ourselves in mind-blowing beef and bean burritos with green chiles. 

Our spirits were renewed as our attention turned toward home.

A Wayward Storm

The day after our mission adventure, we found our way to I-10 eastbound to Benson. The 250 horses between us were out to pasture and raring to go. We checked in on the Cardos like a couple of fighter jet pilots.

Having reached the outskirts of Tucson, the sky swelled and the dark cloud in the distance drew closer. We were rolling on fast and piercing through a headwind, sharing the freeway with tractor trailers traveling cross-country with who knows what inside. 

Up a series of rolling hills, we ascended onto what felt like a stretched out plateau between Hope Mountain and the Coronado National Forest that went on all the way to Benson. I wished I could have turned my head all the way around to see everything. 

A rain drop attacked my windshield, and then another, followed by steady hits of sleet. My thumb found its way to the windshield button, and it rose to defend me like a slab of armor. I tapped once on the Gold Wing’s buttons for heated grips and seat. 

The bike was surgical in its abilities to hold its line through the forces of nature. The dark cloud went away and, at that moment, the longest freight train we’d ever seen entered the stage to our left.

The train was at least 100 containers deep, with multiple diesel engines spread throughout. It looked like a giant, unending caterpillar and was traveling in the same direction as us. 

We found the perfect exit for a pit stop and framed a photo of the train in the Gold Wing’s Eternal Gold paint.

The Mescal Movie Set

After the storm had passed, the light became brilliant. Following Reyme’s advice, we found our way to the Farmhouse Bakery & Restaurant in Benson, one of those hidden-gem restaurants that motorcyclists look forward to the most. We set up camp there for at least an hour, and dad, as always, became cozy with the locals. 

The 10-minute journey to the Mescal Movie Set felt like we were riding through a time portal. The asphalt of N Mescal Rd gave way to the hard-packed dirt of Drive Way, and the Gold Wings were as sure-footed as expected across the changing terrain.

As we drew closer, my mind went back to that decade of my life where I was running from home under the guise of pursuing an acting career. Only later did I realize that forgiveness is a core component to healthy relationships. 

In the end, those wounds turned out to be rooted in pride on my end. When dad’s cancer diagnosis came, it not only softened his heart but mine as well. In a way, it was a blessing.

At the Mescal Movie Set, we were greeted by a friendly group of in-character cowboys. It was the last tour of the afternoon on a beautiful day. 

Our tour guide, Gail, was bold and beautiful as she shared the brilliant set’s detailed production history. We were walking in the dusty boardwalk footsteps of Clint Eastwood, Paul Newman, Val Kilmer, Gene Hackman, and many more, in one of the most recognizable Western towns of the silver screen. 

The tour culminated in the saloon, and the bartender treated our group to popcorn and pints of root beer. The cowboys who ran the place invited us to pull the Gold Wings into the town to capture the moment with the camera, and that was all it took for dad and I to get into character. 

We tied our combined 250 horses to the hitching post, and dad welcomed me home on the steps of the saloon. We had finally made a Western together.

The Sunset Gate

There’s a white iron gate with two suns off McCain Loop in the Saguaro National Park. That’s where we went to spread our wings on the last day. 

The walking trail around the gate invited us to a more hidden place deeper in the desert, where some of the most striking cactus formations grow. In his usual fashion, dad made up a story about one of them that I best not repeat here. 

We explored the trail until the sun set, and we waved to a mountain biker who rolled in out of nowhere. We returned to the Gold Wings and framed a photo with us in it, wrapped in Bordeaux Red Metallic and Eternal Gold. 

Who knows when we’ll get a moment like this again. But if this was the last page of the story, it was a beautiful one.