Remembering Curt Frink ~ The Journey… the Joy… the “JUVYZ”

 

Let me ask a question… Take a few moments and think. Who are the people in your life who made a difference?
For some, that list might be long. For others… maybe just one or two. But now, focus on a particular aspect — a certain season of life. Sometimes all it takes is a time frame… a song… a fragrance… a picture… or simply, a memory.

If I said “Childhood” or “College.” Maybe “Career” or “Vacation.”… What person immediately comes to mind?

For me — when it comes to Motorcycle Rides — second only to my “Bucket List” rides, that person is Curt Frink.

I had only returned to the “Two-Wheeled Obsession” a couple of years earlier, after a twenty-year hiatus. Picture this: I’m walking through the checkout at Silverton’s Roth’s IGA, helmet in hand, when Jan, with her ever so brilliant smile, asks, “You ride motorcycles?” – Before I could even answer, she handed me a brochure she had tucked beside her register. The rest… is history.

That day, I became an Oregon ABCity Tour rookie. It was 2014 — the letter was B. Now, twelve years later, this two-time Tour Champion has ventured several times through the most gorgeous corners of Oregon… one letter (sometimes more) at a time.

From JUVYZ to K & N, then S, M, D/E, followed by W and R. In 2022, we chased G and I; in 2023, it was L; 2024 brought P, and 2025 — the letter H. For another Happy year!

And you know… it seems only fitting that the first full year without Curt among us… 2026… the remaining letters are C and T — CurT! Oh baby, tell me that’s not divine timing.

About the Ride

Though the riders on this Tour have never been grand in number… those who ride… we make it grand. Some are all about the destination — get the checkpoint, grab the photo, move to the next. –Others — well, we are more about the journey:.. the people along the way, the quirky cafés, the stunning vistas, and those “you’ve-got-to-see-it-to-believe-it” signs. And let’s not forget… those twisty, breathtaking Oregon roads that made getting there half the fun.

Three Stories ~ that Curt left me…

1. ~ The year was 2015 — the letters were JUVYZ. The destination: Vinson. “Vinson?” you say. ABCitiers might nod — “Been there, done that.” But truth be told, otherwise… not one person has ever been able to describe the location of this place called Vinson.

One Saturday… July of 2015… I set out to find it myself. Upon arrival — I discovered a one sign, one house, one unnamed cemetery… along the Butter Creek Road. ~ As my Roadstar crested the hill, lo and behold — a yellow school bus appeared from the west! Out stepped thirty folks from the Oregon Historical Society, complete with two old-timers telling stories and a five-piece old-time band.

And I thought: “Except for Curt, I would never have been here. No… never!”

2. Sulphur Springs — 2017: “The Case of the Missing Sign”

Fast forward to 2017 — the letter was S. Only a few coastal towns remained on the Tours list. Before returning home from a six-day ride, I stopped by Curt and Jan’s to swap stories. I mentioned my one miss — Sulphur Springs. Curt gave me that look. You know the one. I asked, “No way — Sulphur Springs has a sign?” Not a word! Solely… that Frink smile. A few weeks later, a ten-hour ride… and wala… I discovered a sign of a Sulphur Springs, Oregon! Victory indeed! Curt 1, Me 0… Ha!

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3. Outriding the Ride Master

Whenever I rode with Curt, indeed the joy was in the journey — and in the camaraderie. But the real payoff? Hearing him say afterwards… “I’ve never been on a couple of those roads.” To have Curt — the man who knew Oregon like the back of his throttle hand — say that? Oh, I was strutting like I’d just won the MotoGP!

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The Legacy Rolls On

There are so many more stories — and I know those who knew Curt could share dozens more. So, as each new year rolls in… as each new letter is chosen… as every road unfolds beneath our wheels — may we remember and appreciate the simple gift Curt left us: The Oregon ABCity Tour.

Because in the end, it’s not about the miles. It’s about the memories — and the man who helped us make them.

Thank you dear friend… Rick

p.s. In the Hall of Fame of the Oregon ABCity Tour… Consider ‘00’ retired!

 

“Not Showy—Just Shoei”

A Childhood Favorite

... From backyard garages to big-league grace — how one humble superstar rekindled a boyhood love of
baseball.

At nearly seventy years of age, I’ve learned there are few pastimes that can still make my heart race like a nine-year-old’s. Well—other than God’s own pastime of creation, of course. But somehow, baseball seems to have preceded even that.

My love affair with America’s pastime began fifty-eight years ago, on a dusty little alley behind our home in Hawthorne, California. Today there’s a Target on Rosecrans Avenue. Back then, I had a target—a garage door that served faithfully as my catcher. There I stood, sweat trickling down my nine-year-old brow, squinting in for the sign from Johnny Roseboro. Every pitch was the potential third strike of a World Series dream. And who was I? None other than Sandy Koufax himself.

I’d go on to become a Pirate, then—be still, my heart—a Dodger. Number 12, first base for this southpaw (left-handed) kid. I loved scooping those low throws, or stretching for the wild throw from my third-baseman. But... oh baby... those diving catches in centerfield... they were something special! My teenage years took me through the ranks: a Colt, a Cardinal, and even a Cowboy. Later, as an adult, I wore the uniforms of the Warrior, the Senator, the Angel, and—yes—the Red Sox, with whom we won the Oregon State Men’s Senior League title in 1993. I was thirty-seven then; they called it “Senior League.” I laugh—Now thirty years later... indeed, I'm a "Senior".

~ 1993 Silverton Red Sox ~

What drew me in? The smell of the leather glove. The pop of the ball. The sweet perfume of freshly mown grass on a California spring day. The beauty of a perfectly turned double play. I dreamt baseball. I lived baseball. I knew the players, the rules, and the unspoken poetry that made the game so deeply American.

More than anything, baseball taught me confidence—and sportsmanship. Over the years, I summed up my approach to every sport with an acronym I created:

 SPORT – Say it Best, Play it Best, Offer the Best, Respond the Best, Teach the Best. And for my Spanish-speaking friends: MEJOR – Muestra tu Mejor, Enseña tu Mejor, Juega tu Mejor, Ofrece tu Mejor, Responde tu Mejor.

Then, as with most good things, life—and the world—changed. Somewhere along the way, the game lost a bit of its soul to politics, posturing, and pageantry. For nearly fifteen years, my connection to baseball dwindled to a few college games—mainly my 3x College World Series Champs... the Oregon State Beavers—just enough to keep the spark alive.

But lately, that spark is back. A handful of players have reminded me of what baseball can be—grace, grit, humility, and joy all wrapped in a 95 (or 100)-mph fastball. And the splitters... Yikes! So thank you, Clayton Kershaw, Freddie Freeman, Mike Trout, Cal Raleigh, and especially Shohei Ohtani—perhaps indeed... the GOAT... the greatest of all time.

Thank you, Shohei, for not being Showy. For reminding us that greatness can still walk hand-in-hand with grace. And that’s exactly what we teach our Xolos ballplayers: play with heart, play with honor, and always—play your best. 

 The only thing better for this video... Vin Scully making the call. Just saying! :)

 

And... Please feel free to leave a comment :)