Dick James and Jean Betes with friend, 1963

Lady Bikers – This Is Our Story
by Jean Bates

In 1964 I was stationed in the city of Cochabamba, Bolivia, where I worked at the Wycliffe Bible Translators’ new Print Shop, with all the wonderful equipment Dick James (the inventor of the Slinky Toy!) had donated to the Mission. He was teaching me how to run the press and other equipment, but he had to return to the States for a few months, and left his 350 Zundapp motorcycle with me while he was gone. Claudia had graduated from Tambo in 1963, but remained in Bolivia for one year, learning the printing trade in the Cochabamba Print Shop, and then working with another missionary in the Beni for 2 months.

I taught Claudia how to drive Dick’s Zundapp. It was very heavy, but she learned how to balance it, and could just barely put the kick stand into place when she stopped! My own motorcycle was a Honda 90, trail model—a light machine! There weren’t many cars in Cochabamba—there were more bicycles and motorbikes. It was very common to see ladies riding their bicycles to town, with their purses hanging from the handle bars, and rear-view mirrors. You even had to have a license plate for your bicycle.

Our annual NTM Mission conference was always held at the Tambo School right after the graduation exercises. Folks from Cochabamba (and Santa Cruz) generally took the public transportation busses to Tambo for the annual conference, which was an 8-hour ride over the Andes Mountains!

But Claudia said to me, “Let’s take the motorcycle – who wants to ride in the stuffy old bus?” That stopped me for a moment – but then I got to thinking it would really be fun! Claudia would be leaving soon to go to Bible College and this would be our last mother-daughter fling!

So we carefully planned our journey. The motorcycle had no carrying case except saddlebags for tools, so we strapped the case of a small portable typewriter onto the back luggage rack. In that we carried a light lunch, beverages, and a change of clothes. It all fit perfectly.

We knew it would be cold going through the Rain Forest, so we ordered two custom- made, white, fur-lined leather jackets from a local tailor. Typical to the Bolivian culture, he procrastinated almost too long – the jackets weren’t ready until two days before we left! We also carried a lap blanket with us.

We put our hair up in curlers, and covered our heads with white knit caps. (No helmet requirements in those days.) Donning our beautiful new coats, we left quite early in the morning.

(Harley Motorcycle Club Members can stop reading here! Typical “BIKERS” we were not!)

What fun! We decided that we would alternate drivers -- I would drive for one hour, and Claudia would drive for a half-hour. What a beautiful drive, when we got out of town! Cochabamba is nestled in a valley at 8,000 feet altitude. From there we drove up through the Andes Mountains, probably up to 10,000 ft., and then dropped back down to Tambo at 5,000 feet. For about 20 miles of this route, through the Rain Forest, they claim the sun never shines! The road construction crews finally gave up on paving this stretch of the Pan American Highway. It is always overcast, and almost always raining or drizzling. While driving through this stretch Claudia and I discovered a beautiful little pond that we had never noticed when traveling by bus. We pulled off the road and pushed the bike down the slope to the pond, which had some trees beside it. It was a perfect spot for a picnic lunch!

On our way again after eating, the road continued to worsen, until we were driving in one of two deep ruts in the center of the roadway. It was wet and cold and we were thankful for our warm jackets and hats. And of course the motorcycle had a nice windshield which kept most of the wind and rain off the driver’s face! I drove through the Rain Forest, and Claudia helped me tuck our lap robe across the front of the bike, covering my knees, to keep out the biting wind. Although it was tough driving in the mud and the rain, we were doing okay until a huge truck approached us. Though the road was wide enough for him to get out of the ruts and move to one side, he obviously was not a gentleman. He remained dead-center in the ruts, barreling toward us, until we realized he had no intention of moving over. I swung the bike to the right, into the slop, and we both got off and just stood there waiting for him to pass, and trying to keep the bike from falling flat into the slippery mud. In case anyone is wondering, that is much too close to an oncoming truck for comfort! His wheels threw out a huge splash of mud and water all over us! We were truly a mess.

But we were thankful he hadn’t hit us! And we are quite sure he would have squished us like road-kill and kept on going! Once we were back on pavement, past the Rain Forest, we found a spot to pull over and kind of catch our breath!

As we approached Tambo, Claudia directed us to a spot where we could stop. She was very familiar with the area as she and other kids had hiked all over. We stopped at the “First Bridge” (a destination landmark), which was about a mile from Tambo. The bridge was over a dry creek bed, but it was a place where could get off the road and freshen up. Using the water we had with us, we washed our faces. Then we changed into the spare clothes we had brought, removed our curlers, and combed our hair.

We felt truly refreshed! From that point on we drove very slowly the last mile into the school, arriving all prim and proper as if we had just gone around the block!

Nobody could believe that we had actually driven the bike all the way from Cochabamba! Everyone was quite impressed!

We were hungry, and believe me, we sure did sleep well that night!

It was a trip of a lifetime, and the return trip to Cochabamba was just as fun, though without the truck challenge in the Rain Forest!

All these pictures come from the mid 1960's. They were taken by my father Fred Borden or by me. I apologize for the lines not appearing correctly above the pictures. This publishing program has a mind of it's own and will not be subject to my instructions.

Rain forest on road to Tambo.

The main square from the hill, mid 1960's.

Road at Tambo entrance.

Mrs Elizabeth Lotz and Charlotte Metzger.

Class in session about 1966.

Kitchen duty- Sharon Presson in green blouse

Galilee Weldon, Priscella Gess, Janet Key,
Ann Johnson, Charlotte Metzger, Arleta Johnston

Chart of the Book of John

One of the really fun classes at Tambo was Bill Pittinger's Bible class. We had to do a chart for each book of the Bible we studied. Here is a copy of one of those I did around 1966. It is one of the few I got an A+ on so I kept it.

In a recent e-mail conversation with Maxine Morarie she told me a little about Howie’s home going. He was very young, having gone on ahead of us in 1994. At the left is a picture taken shortly before Howie's death. Thank you Mark for finding this picture and letting me use it.

I remember Howie at Tambo as a fun, all around kid. He was into sports, the soccer team shown below, and loved music. I was Ruth in the "Pirates of Penzance" and Howie was Frederic. It was great fun.

One of the fun things I enjoyed at Tambo was going out as a group on the week-ends. Mostly this was when the moon was full. Usually we would walk to first bridge, on the road to Cochabamba. I can remember walking along with Howie and my friend Bonnie Ziegler talking about the big and little issues of life. When the moon was full, it was like we could reach up and pull it down. And the stars had no competition with any city light. The night sky was awesome. We did not realize, as we cheerily enjoyed the outing that we would look back on many of those casual activities as some of the great moments of our lives - at least it is true of me.

When you are young you think you will all be around for a full life time, but with Patty Morgenroth’s home going the students at Tambo all faced the sober truth, that it was not a given we would grow old in this life. The high school students, as a whole, re-evaluated our own lives and faith. This is also how I felt when I heard of Howie's home going. I sometimes think the Lord calls the best ones home so He can enjoy more direct face time with them. I know, that's a bit whimsical.

I wish I had known Howie as a beloved School Principle. As I read the account below from his mom, I had tears in my eyes. Tears filled with a joy that Howie’s life, although too short for us left behind, was one of impact on the world he inhabited. That his death was a testimony to the Lord he loved and served.

Below is a bit of the story Mrs. Maxine Morarie shared with me recently.

“Yes, It was very hard to see Howie have to leave his family. We plead with the Lord to spare him for his children's sake, but God is good all the time, and his ways are past finding out. The marvelous thing is that his son John (21) and daughter Meghann (19) both love and follow the Lord. He would be so pleased to see them ... or maybe he does???? (Heb. 12:1)

When he was in the hospice so many people came to visit him and to tell him goodbye it was amazing. He was in the hospice 17 days.. He couldn't speak because the cancer had destroyed his voice box, but he communicated with each one by writing his part of the conversation .... Invariably the person would ask for the page from the notebook he wrote on. He'd hold up one finger ... and resume writing, signing the page: I am at perfect peace. I'm going home to see my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, Howard Morarie.

He wrote to me during this time, "Mom, this dying isn't all bad. When I was a principle I couldn't say all I wanted to say to staff and students, but here I am witnessing freely to all who come!"

Mike is so musical and plays the guitar and sings so he would take his guitar into Howie's room, and he said it was like Aaron being Moses' voice. Howie would size up the situation of whoever was in the room at the moment. He'd motion Mike over and write the song he wanted Mike to sing... and Mike would deliver the message!

Carol Ann was often at the hospice, and invariable he'd want her to rub his feet and legs. He was writing "goodbyes" to people, and one day Carol came and he handed her a note. She thought, "Wow, I'm going to get a special "goodbye" too! But when she read the note it said, "Sis, can you rub my legs!"

He chose his little sister Trish (early 20's at the time) to pass his words on at the memorial. She felt so honored.

While in the hospice he was informed that he had earned his doctorate. Professors from Colorado University came to inform him. He died soon after, so when it was awarded, Howard and his wife Julia walked together for it. He accomplished so much in his life time.

I could go on and on... it was a sad, sad time, but also a glorious time! I miss him still... and so do his siblings... and I think we've all over glorified the situation... but it seems to comfort us and help us to see that God even used his death, and that it wasn't in vain.

Howie had married a girl from Mexico that he met on a trip with his Spanish students to Colima, giving them the experience of living with families there to perfect their speaking and understanding. Julia was a young doctor and for Howie it was love at first sight. They had been married only 7 years when he died. Julia is wonderful... and very much a part of our family still. “

If any reads this and has memories to share, I hope you will.