I was quite surprised with the Horseshoe in Shreveport. While not a gambler, I do spend a lot of time in Las Vegas and this place reminded me so much of the casinos there. We got a $49 room, which was excellent for an overnight stay. Had a good meal in Binions Steak House. The steak was better than one I had a few years ago in the steakhouse at the top of Binions in Las Vegas. A restful night and we were on our way to Mississippi.

After 100 miles on IH20, we got back on backroads for our first destination, BB Kings Museum and Delta Interpretive Center in Indianola, MS. However, it was lunch time and we needed some food. We were passing through Bastrop, La and came upon PT’s Eat-A-Bite. Looked like a cool place so we stopped to check it out. We stepped into probably the friendliest place I’ve ever been. There was a gentleman standing and talking to some folks at a table by the door and immediately included us in his conversation. Wanted to know where we were riding from and to, the usual stuff, then he told a guy sitting by himself to get up, we needed food. Then he told us to sit down with the guy as that’s how it’s done there. So we sit down in the booth with Pastor Vic who’s having a burger and fries. Very nice guy, let’s us know the gentleman who was carrying on with everybody, ministers to bikers in Bastrop. How cool is that? We talked to Pastor Vic for a while about Jesus and church while he finished eating and we ordered. He waited for our food to come, the excused himself and went about his day. In the meantime, the folks at the next table engaged us. One of the women is an inspirational speaker who is going to be speaking in Georgetown (go figure) in May at Sun City. We finished up, told everyone goodbye and headed back out on the road.

The BB King museum in Indianola is a great place to visit. I’ve enjoyed BB King’s music since I heard “The Thrill is Gone” in 1969. The museum is dedicated to giving the visitor a history lesson of BB (his real name is Riley, but when he left to go to Memphis, he became Blues Boy which was finally shortened to BB), the area he grew up in, and the social issues of his youth. They also have zumba on Thursdays.

We left Indianola, but instead of taking the short route to Clarksdale, we backtracked a bit to take Hwy 61 known as the Blues Highway through the delta to our destination for the next 3 days.

The blues highway gets it’s name from the fact that it connected New Orleans to Memphis before IH55 was built. The musicians from the delta traveled either north to Memphis or South to New Orleans looking for a better life. These folks were mostly sharecroppers descended from slaves that worked the plantations. Sharecropping didn’t seem to me to be any better than slavery even in the early 1900’s. As we passed the miles and miles of cotton fields, I could feel the oppressive heat these farmers felt while picking cotton by hand. The blues comes out of the situation of needing a release to help the day go by while out in the field.

We rode through Shaw, Renova, Merigold (home of Po Monkeys Juke Joint), and finally hit the Crossroads in Clarksdale. The Crossroads is where Hwy 61 N crosses Hwy 49 N. Legend has it that this is the spot Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil. According various accounts, he was told to be at the crossroads at midnight with his guitar. The devil, in the shape of a large black man took the guitar, tuned it, played a few songs, and then gave it back to Robert, giving him mastery of the instrument. We never visited the Crossroads at midnight…

Our hotel was in West Helena, AR as all the rooms in Clarksdale were booked. This meant that each day, we had to ride roughly (no pun intended) 45 minutes to get to our room. Hwy49 was the roughest paved road we had ever been on. There were 3 different buckles in the road that sent us flying off the seat the first time we hit them. Finding them in the day was easy. Finding them at night, not so much.

We wandered around Clarksdale on Friday. There were some pre-festival activities going on and we grabbed some lunch at Abe’s BBQ at the Crossroads. They had BBQ Pork, BBQ Ribs, and BBQ Beef. I asked if the beef was brisket, the waiter said no it was “beef”. I ordered a pulled pork sandwich. Phyllis asked about the pork and ribs, the waiter said the pork was pulled and the ribs had bones in them. She ordered the ribs. The food was good, but not the best ever. From there we went to Ground Zero Blues Club on Delta ave. Morgan Freeman is co-owner of the joint. It was packed with tourists, little kids sitting at the bar, not the type of authentic juke you would expect in Clarksdale. There was a band from Iowa playing some blues. This wasn’t what I had come for. I was looking for authentic bluesmen. Those souls who live and breathe it. I knew they were there, just needed to find them.

We found Terry “Harmonica” Bean playing on the sidewalk outside the Delta Amusement Café. There were a few people enjoying his music, most were locals. One thing I did notice was it is easy to tell the locals from the tourists in Clarksdale. This was the first of three times we would see Terry over the weekend. From there we walked over to the Hambone Gallery where a couple of guys were playing harmonica and keyboard. I didn’t get their names unfortunately. After they were done, we moved over to Lady on the Levee for dinner and then headed back to the hotel.

Saturday was Juke Joint Festival 2012. Music all over downtown, locals playing the blues. We grabbed some brunch at Rust and then we camped out in front of Cat Head Delta Blues and Folk Art.

Enjoy the video.

In the evening, the music went inside to local bars, clubs, and jukes. The line to get into Ground Zero was about a mile long. I didn’t come all this way to stand in line. We decided to walk to Red’s Lounge, the last authentic juke in the world. Reds is backed by the Sunflower River and fronted by a graveyard. The BBQ pit was smoking right by the front door. The sun had set, so it was dark on the sidewalk. Evidently, they don’t get streetlights on this side of town. We walked to the door and was met by a friendly security guard who checked our wristbands and let us in. We got about a foot inside of the door and stopped. Wall to wall people. People sitting at the bar, people sitting on the floor, people everywhere. On the stage, Robert “Wolfman” Belfour. We made our way across to the opposite side and located 1 seat. Phyllis sat down and I stood for a bit. Then someone else got up and I sat down. All I could see was the back of the people standing in front of me.

Let me back up a second and talk about the building itself. It couldn’t have been more than 1500 square feet. Shaped like the old house it was built out of. With the bar taking about 100 square feet and the stage taking another 80 – 100, meant there was roughly 1300 square feet of room. The ceiling had plastic stapled to it in many spots. This was so that rainwater would be diverted to the sides of the building. One person told me it was raining in there last year and water was coming through the electrical fixtures. I estimated that there were probably 200 people crammed into this space. I guess there is no fire code in Clarksdale.

Finally, the guy sitting next to Phyllis left and I got his seat. My evacuated one, was taken by a guy whose two friends had grabbed seats next to it when another couple left. Thinking we were in it to win it, I looked at the guy and said “Score.”

He looked at me kind of funny and in broken English said, “I don’t understand. My English is not to good.”

I said, “We both got what we wanted, so we both win.”

He said, “We are Dutch.”

“Like from the Netherlands?”

“Yes we are on a 3 week holiday touring the American south.”

“Cool.”

I could finally see Wolfman, but there was so much chatter around me, I couldn’t hear him, so we decided to fight our way back across the room and try another venue. On the way out, Red sold me a t-shirt.

We walked past Ground Zero again, line still long. The two bands I had wanted to see, Rev Peyton and his Big Damn band and Super Chiken were the best known of the festival, both playing at Ground Zero, which is the best known club in town, so it only made sense it would have the most people. I developed a new strategy. Hopson Commissary was hosting Big George Brock, a cool old harmonica player, and his band. Hopson was about 3 miles outside of town at the Shack Up Inn and there was a bus running between it and downtown. I figured if people had to ride a bus, there still might be a chance to get there and get a seat. So instead of getting on the bus, we fired up Ruby and headed over. The club was full by the time we got there. We were standing in the back near the bar and a fellow came up to me and asked if we had a red and black Harley and if we were staying in West Helena Best Western. I answered to the affirmative. He’s like; “We got a table with two empty chairs. You want to come sit down?” We spent the rest of the night with this nice couple from St Louis. Big George brought it and a good time was had.

We left Hopson about midnight. The music was still playing, but I wanted to get off the road before the drunk locals got in their trucks to go somewhere.

The road was dark. I had noticed the night before that this was one of the darkest area’s at night that I had ever been. That includes a trip I took several years ago from Isla Mujeres, Mexico to Galveston on a 50 foot sailboat. We cruised up the four lane at 65 mph, but when we turned on to the two lane (roughest road ever) I dropped down to 55 for the short 10 mile trip across the delta and over the Mississippi River. But it was dark. I could feel the ghosts of Robert Johnson and those bluesmen of old. Slaves picking cotton and share croppers doing their back breaking work. The Devil poking around. Bugs everywhere. The only light was the led headlight I bought in 2011 after getting stuck in New Mexico after dark and not being able to see down the road. The headlight washed the road in bright white light so I could see, but had the side effect of pulling in every bug within 10 miles. We made it to the bridge and I slowed down to 45. That’s the oldest, narrowest, bridge I had ever been on. I had to downshift to get enough torque to take us to the top. The river shimmered below in light of some old riverboat…

The next morning the Weather Channel said the tornado producing storms that had killed people in Oklahoma was getting close. When we went to bed the night before, there were tornado watches all across eastern Arkansas. Now they would be bearing down on us. We had a short 75-mile ride up the blues highway to Memphis and some sight seeing planned for the day. We quickly packed Ruby up and got on our way. The sky was overcast and the wind was howling. We ran straight (there aren’t a lot of curves on the Blues Highway) up to Memphis and luckily the Doubletree let us check in early. They had covered parking about a block away, so I put Ruby up for the night in a protected, covered corner of the parking lot.

We walked over to Beale to find some lunch. BB King’s Blues Bar was open and there weren’t many people inside. This is usually a sign that the food isn’t great, but we were hungry and gave it a shot. It was actually really good. It was still early and not a lot of folks out looking to eat just yet. While we were eating, a band started assembling on stage (bonus!). They got all tuned up and then a woman walked an old man up the stairs and helped him sit down in a chair. He was wearing a great looking chartreuse suit complete with a derby and had what looked like a fanny pack around his waist. He sat down and opened up the fanny pack to show about 6 harmonica’s. He was introduced as Blind Mississippi Morris (super bonus!). Here we are in the presence of a delta blues legend with about 10 other people and he’s playing like the house is packed! I didn’t want to leave.

We grabbed a taxi and headed for the Stax Museum. I’m a huge fan of the Blues, Rock and Roll, and the Gourds, as well as soul music. As a kid I loved to watch the groups on TV with their matching suits and choreography. I secretly wanted to be a Pip. After a $12 cab ride that should have been more like 8, we paid our $20 and went inside Soulsville. It’s a great place with plenty to see and hear. Everything from every album cover and 45 record ever created at Stax to the Custom Cadillac Coupe Deville they bought and gave to Isaac Hayes is in there. I highly recommend it!

On the cab ride back (have the museum call for you, it’s only $10 to get back to Beale St.) we shared a ride with another couple that had called a cab on their own. The cabbie was a born and raised Memphian who was extremely proud of his city. He took us on a side trip (no charge!) to see some of the mansions built in the late 1800’s.

The driver dropped us off at the Peabody hotel to see the ducks, but we were about 30 seconds to late. They had just gotten on the elevator and the crowd was starting to breakup. Oh well, another reason to go back. We walked through the Peabody, it’s got a nice lobby and I’m sure the rooms are nice, but the Doubletree is across the street and about half the price.

We went back to Beale to see what was happening and the crowds were off the hook. Lots of music in the outdoor areas. Lots of folks standing around on the street. I just wanted a quiet place at that point to have a drink and decide on dinner. We found a Flying Saucer on a side street and grabbed a drink at the bar. The weather was starting to get busy, so instead of going to one of the local places I had read about, we stopped at a Texas De Brazil on the way to the hotel and had a nice white table cloth dinner. They treated us well, even though we were in full biker regalia and I hadn’t shaved in a week. The food was good and plentiful and after we ate our share, we walked back to the hotel for the night.

The storms never really got bad. There was some thunder and lightening, but for the most part they were much weaker than when they crossed Oklahoma. The next morning, we loaded up and headed home. My plan was to ride all the way back, but once we turned on to the back roads in Texas and it started getting dark, we stopped for the night in Palestine, TX. The next morning we ate breakfast at the hotel and then completed our trip by noon.

It was a beautiful day,

the kind you want to toast.

We were riding south on the Ultras,

looking for a harley trading post.

Off to the east we spied,

the billowing clouds of smoke.

The fire was out of control,

and people had lost their lives.

Bastrop, Tx was burning down,

houses were lost and animals too.

The drought has been substantial,

and now its taking it’s due.

Fireman and rescuers are out in force,

battling the blazes and putting out the embers.

But they can’t stand up to mother natures course.

I felt guilty about enjoying the day.

We had waited so long, for the 100 degree temps to go away.

We rode through smoke in San Antonio, Blanco, and Marble Falls.

Texas is burning, God help us all!

Last night was the breaking point for me. It has been a few weeks since we got the bike out and went for a ride. The stir craziness got to me last night and at 8:45 pm, I decided we needed to ride. We left the house and went straight to the gas station. Then we made a loop around Georgetown and ended up going south on Parmer. After passing a multitude of Deer we turned around just north of 1431 and headed back. Same deer still watching us with the addition of other night creatures. Scary. After about an hour we returned home and turned the tv back on. Such is life for a biker in a heat wave.

When for short ride today. We left around 11 am for a back roads adventure. It was around 90 when we left and about 99 when we got home.

I had been wanting to try out an idea I had for hot weather riding. We bought some mesh jackets when we first started riding again and aside from long road trips, we really never use them. When we do, it’s usually over some cotton Harley t shirt we’ve picked up on the road. Today I put it on over a sleeveless Under Armour heat gear shirt. Now I don’t look all that muscle-ly (is that a word?) when I wear it, but wasn’t going for looks today. I was going for cool (or as cool as can be) so we could go some miles. I have to say that it worked nicely. The breeze flows through the mesh and since the sun isn’t beating down directly on my skin, it does feel cooler. I think the hot setup (pun intended) may be an aqua vest (basically a swamp cooler you wear) between the under armour and the jacket. At least around here. Not sure how it would work in the humidity of East Texas. Today I felt the heat mostly on my feet. I’ve all ready bought some light colored boots, so not sure were to go there. Also, blue jeans are not the right gear for summer riding. I think the mesh suits the BMW riders wear is probably the way to go, but I don’t ride a Bimmer.

We made two stops today one at the Sonic in Lago Vista so I could get myself a hot dog (traditional 4th of July lunch, no?) and get some liquids in our bodies and another stop at Eagle Peak Shooting Range. It’s Independence Day and a drought, so no fireworks. So we broke out the .45 my friend Darrell Bishop designed and put lead through paper in honor of our founding fathers while exercising our 2nd amendment rights. Darrell left us this year and we miss him as I’m sure his family and friends do. RIP Darrell.

Happy Independence Day, Ya’ll.

I guess I should round up that last trip, so you can figure out if you want to try it. There are a couple of posts I put out while on the road, but nothing that goes into the ride itself. I took a few minutes to read my posts concerning the trip. When we last spoke, we had just settled into the Canyon Ranch Motel in Springdale, UT. It’s roughly a mile from the south entrance to the park.

We woke up the next morning and I wanted to go to the local Harley shop for a T-Shirt and to see if someone would give Ruby a wash. I was in luck, one of the service guys cleaned her up nicely, we got a couple of cool t-shirts and then headed back to Springfield. On the way out I had noticed a “pick your own” apple orchard so on the way back we stopped and checked it out. I grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of water and Phyllis got some apples. We sat outside and visted with some folks from Las Vegas for a bit and then headed to the park.

We rode from the South Entrance to the North and back and took some video of the experience. We parked in the South Parking lot and grabbed a bus to see some sites. I was wearing my riding boots, which are terrible for walking (more on that later)so we would walk to the vista point and then sit down on a bench and take it all in. We did this for a few hours until time for dinner, then we grabbed one of the busses and went to the Red Rock Grill in Zion Lodge for steaks and wine. I’ve got to say the service was excellent, the wine was good, but the steaks were just ok. Still in the restaurant with floor to ceiling windows and million dollar views, the dining experience was excellent! When it was time to go, the sun had set and darkness prevailed. I don’t know if dark is the word for it. Without a flashlight, you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. Beautiful starry night and the critters had come out. The bus ride back to the parking lot was filled with stops for the animals to get off the road. Great time! We rode the mile back to the hotel and had a bit more wine before calling it a night. The next day would take us down IH-15 through the badlands of Utah, Arizona, and Nevada and into Las Vegas.

[simage=42,320,n,right,]Originally settled by Mormon farmers, they named it Kolob – the heavenly place nearest the residence of God. They must have felt the same thing I did. It’s a magnificent park and very worthy of the “National” title. If you don’t believe in God, visit this place and try to tell me it’s the result of some earthly manipulations.

We are staying in the Canyon Ranch Motel just outside of the South entrance to the park. Surrounded by Zion’s mountains. I am sitting outside watching the dark and a thunderstorm move towards us. The lightening dances around the tops of the peaks, my own personal light show created by the One who creates all things. A chilly wind blows over my neck. I’m enjoying my evening bourbon, thinking about what today was like.

[simage=34,320,n,left,]We started early this morning, a short run from Bluff to Mexican Hat for a damn good breakfast at the San Juan Inn and Trading Post. From there we rode through the awesomeness known as Monument Valley. It’s roughly a 25 mile straight road, the only curves being the ones that go around some of the monuments. If you’ve ever watched a John Wayne movie you’ve seen parts of Monument Valley. If you ever watched Road Runner, you’ve seen it in cartoon form.

The ride through Monument Valley put us in Arizona and we stopped in Kayenta for gas. From there we headed west for a couple of hours. We were flanked on our right side by miles and miles of red cliffs. [simage=35,320,n,left,][simage=37,320,n,left,]We past more monuments and encountered a bit of rain. We rode past the Grand Staircase Escalante National Monument and Glen Canyon National Recreation Area which includes Lake Powell, the second largest man made lake in the US behind Lake Mead. We crossed the Rainbow Bridge and was back in Utah. The landscape changed and we were back in the mountains and canyons.

We stopped in Kanab for lunch around 2:30. Kanab bills itself as “Little Hollywood” as there have been several movies filmed here. We ate at the Rewind Diner. Outside on the street there was plaque dedicated to Don Knotts and his starring role in the “Apple Dumpling Gang”.

[simage=38,320,n,right,][simage=39,320,n,right,]A short 30 minute ride put us at the North Gate of Zion. I like the way that sounds. We paid our money and started our ride through the canyon. As I said earlier, the place is magnificent! Every turn brings us to a new vista, a new way to look at the world. We pulled over to take it all in and a gentleman walked over to us. He had his camera out and pointed out a ram on top of this cliff just above us. We watched the goat a few minutes and then continued on our way across the park. Zion has two tunnels. We got the short one first and rolled through it. A few miles later we came to the long one. The Zion-Mount Carmel tunnel is 1.1 miles long and there aren’t any lights in it. It’s burrowed through one of the mountains and every so often there is a window open to a glorius view. It’s also narrow, so if you want to drive your RV through it, you have to pay an extra $15 to get a lead through. What that means is that they have to stop cars from entering the opposite end so you can pull your oversize vehicle through it. Regardless, in a 1.1 mile tunnel, Ruby causes quite a stir. The pipes aren’t real loud, but they have a deep resounance which get’s amplified in the tunnel. I’m not sure the people behind me enjoyed it as much as I did.

We exited the tunnel to find the road construction. They had taken up the old asphalt and were laying down new. Evidently we caught them on the day between as we had wet packed dirt to drive down the mountain on. I had to slow way down and thread our route trying to stay on the dry area of the dirt. This didn’t endear me to the people behind me anymore than the pipes in the tunnel. I took the first pull out I could find and let them all pass. We made it on to the asphalt without incident and passed out the south exit of Zion. We are staying here again tomorrow so that we can experience more of Zion. Friday we head for Las Vegas, NV.

That’s what I’m looking for, it’s what I need. 50+ hours per week, I work for Cisco. When I’m not sitting at my desk or visiting with a partner, I’m usually thinking about them. I’ve been on vacation now for 3 days and they still find their way into my thoughts. In the big picture does it really matter? When my story has been told, what will my children and grand children remember about me? He was a hard worker? He provided for us, but was never around? He never truly connected with me? These are the things I think about. 50 years from now when my grand children have their own and they see this picture of me, I hope they remember that I tried to live life to it’s fullest.[simage=30,320,n,right,]

Inspiration. I did find some today. I found it out there on a back road, riding a motorcycle in God’s creation. He showed me just how small I am. The mountains, the rivers, the plains, the colors, the smells, the wind in my face, the rain stinging my cheeks, the cold freezing my hands, and the creatures in the wild all worked together to wake me up.[simage=31,320,n,left,] To show me that there is so much more to life than what I’ve been doing the last 10 years. I thanked him for the beautiful woman riding with me, I thanked him for my beautiful children and their spouses, I thanked him for my parents and grandparents who’ve helped me along the way to become the man I am. I thanked him for the family and friends he continues to bless me with. Everyone needs a wake up call now and then. I’m glad I finally got mine. How will this change me? I’m not sure, but hopefully you will see it next time I see you.

Today we rode roughly 150 miles from Ouray, Co to Moab, UT. Great ride and I’ll catch you up after we talk about Los Alamos, NM to Ouray. We ate breakfast at a coffee shop next door to the Blue Window Bistro from the night before. It was some of the best Chorizo I’ve ever had. The coffee was pretty good as well. You can’t go wrong with a local place. I’ll take one over IHop any day of the week. We headed back down the twisty mountain road and then headed north. 45 – 55 mph for the next two hours due to tribal lands. Ok, I get it. I go slow in my neighborhood, so no reason to speed through yours. But when it’s a 4 lane road that’s 25 miles long, straight, and no neighborhoods let me go 65, OK? No it’s not OK and I didn’t do that, but I sure wanted to. Our route took us through Chama, NM so we stopped and checked it out. We went into a cafe called the Rail-yard or something similar. I felt like it was a tourist place, but they fixed me a passable green chile cheeseburger. I started to take a picture of it, but noticed someone griping about food pictures on facebook a couple of days ago, so decided to forgo it. From there it was more of West Texas type terrain. Lots of open fields and scrub. We stopped in Pagosa Springs, CO for gas and continued to Durango. We had gotten small taste of what was in store for us just north of Chama as we entered Colorado. The trees we varying shades of yellow, red, and green. Once we cleared Durango (as painful as Santa Fe) we were treated to extreme colors of fall. We were talking about how beautiful it all is and I realized I’ve never truly seen the colors of fall. This is something I definitely want to see more of. [simage=32,320,n,right,]At times on the “Million Dollar Highway” if felt like we were gliding through a kaleidoscope. The trees were arched over the road and the colors were breathtaking. But enough of this touchy feely stuff! The road was awesome and commanded respect. As we started climbing toward Silverton, I kept going slower and slower. The temp was in the low 40′s, I was freezing and there was no place to pull off! The sheer drops off the side of the road made me want to ride the center line, but on the blind turns I had to venture over to the ride side of the lane. Why you might ask? Because there were plenty of people on this road who believed they were expert drivers. They were so good, that when they went into a tight hairpin turn on the side of a mountain, they came over the center stripe into my lane! I’ve never seen so many wannabe drivers. Regardless, we got to a viewing area with a nice parking lot and pulled over a few miles from Silverton. We finally got to put on some hoodies under our leathers and warm up a bit. While I was arranging my gear, another fellow on a Harley rode up. He had been planning on riding to Silverton, but got so cold that he was turning back. We were watching what looked like a pretty nice snow storm on the top of the mountains we could see. Phyllis and I got back on the road with our hoodies and leathers on and the cold wasn’t quite so bad. We rode into Ouray just before dark and after a nice dinner, settled in for the night.

This morning, we rode into town to get her some breakfast. We spoke to a guy who said the snow was on it’s way, so decided that we needed to get out as quickly as possible. On the ride into Ouray, I had been so focused on the road that I really didn’t get to enjoy the scenery. On our way out, we went past Telluride and there was plenty to be seen. The fall colors along with the added white snow on the peaks really made for some scenic riding. Once we made the pass and the peaks were out of sight, it was more high plains for awhile. Then we started getting into the canyons and lot’s of signs stating that the area we were in was “open grazing”. Nice. We were headed for the CO/UT border and the road I took was rough in spots, but also had spots that were fixed. The problem with the new patchs of road, is that they had a nice layer of mud on them as well. We dealt with that for about 50 miles as we made our way to the bottom of Paradox Valley. Of course once you make it to the bottom, you have to work your way back up and out. Back and forth around the sides of the cliffs to get over the pass. Repeat to get down. We stopped at the bottom and took a picture of the Welcome sign. We milled around a bit and then headed for the red rocks of Utah. We had been riding for maybe 30 seconds and Phyllis let me know that she had dropped the camera on the road. Its a little worse for wear, but still works! We rode through La Sal before picking up 191 into Moab. We checked into the hotel, went for some lunch and a walk on main street before coming back to the hotel. Phyllis needed a nap and it’s raining in Moab.

Here is our journey so far.

Yesterday was pretty uneventful. It takes along time to get out of Texas when you live in the heart of it. Some interesting town names we rode through – Goldthwaite, Bangs, Early, Zepher, Mullin, Santa Ana, and Sweetwater in no particular order. We ended up spending the night in Post which was founded by the same person of cereal fame.

Today was a different story. We left Post about 8:15 am to get an hours worth of riding in before breakfast. We hightailed it down Hwy 380 which is long, straight, and (on the Texas leg) fast. I might also mention that it was COLD! I had enough sense to put on my leather jacket, but could have used a sweatshirt underneath it. I turned on my heated grips (sweet!) to 4/5′s of the way to keep my hands warm under the full finger summer gloves I was wearing. We stopped in Brownfield for a taco and then got back on 380. I used to think that the Beach road from Winnie to High Island was the longest, straightest road in the world. I was wrong. Hwy 380 is the longest, straightest road in the world. I put the cruise control on and could have literally not touched the handlebars for 30 minutes at a time. When your going 70 mph, that’s 35 miles without a curve. So needless to say I was in a zone that didn’t require much thinking.

After about 200 miles of this I was finally afforded some relief in the way of some twisties! Yay! We took 380 towards Capitan, NM which runs through a pretty sweet valley. The road follows along the bottom of the valley and has some nice views and some great turns but it was extremely rough. So slow down, enjoy the view. We rolled into Capitan looking for gas and food. There was a Shell station there and a restaurant with Green Chile Stew. I got both!

We left the restaurant and headed west on 380 again. The road got smoother and I found a dinosaur rock radio station playing some good tunes. I was enjoying my full stomach, my rockin tunes, and the wonderful twisties when I got a panic punch in the back. I hit the brakes and looked down the road and we were coming face to face with the biggest 4 legged creature I’ve ever seen in the wild.[simage=14,320,n,right,] I believe she was an Elk about the size of a horse and she was running away from us. I continued to slow down and a couple of seconds later her two little ones followed her across the road. Beautiful site to see, but it definitely put a damper on my good time. I had plenty of time to stop and it crossed my mind that if I got to close, she might head butt me! We spent the next few miles going the speed limit and discussing the beauty and the beast we had dealt with.

We exited off 380 (finally) and got on NM-3, the equivilent of a Texas Ranch Road. We rode it for 15 miles and never saw vehicle. We took US285 for another 70 miles of straight hwy. At least by this time we were flanked my mesa’s and Austin type hills most of the way. We exited on to I-25 for a few miles to get around Santa Fe and then  we took 285 which is a like Burnet road in Austin, only with views. They need to get the red lights timed on this one as we caught everyone of them. We then picked up NM502 which has great views, great pavement, and a 55 mph speed limit through the Indian reservations. It was not a bad ride, but we were ready to get to the hotel and get off the bike. 502 got very interesting in the last 16 miles. This was 45 mph road that zigzagged around the sides of the Jemez mountains. This was a really steep climb with one hairpin after another. I finally took a pull off, so we could take a decent picture.[simage=28,320,n,left,] 5 minutes later we were checking into the Best Western Hilltop House in Los Alamos, NM. We grabbed a pretty good meal at the Blue Window Bistro and am now relaxing in the room.

Tomorrow we head for Ouray, NM and are expecting some weather that won’t be all that pleasant.

This morning after church we headed over to the low water bridge over the San Gabriel river in Georgetown and had a baptism. It’s always a thrill to see someone turn their life over to Christ. After-wards we had a BBQ lunch in the park for some fellowship. Then about 15 of us headed to Hutto for some pie. The only problem was that the owner of the cafe didn’t seem to want us there. After a few sharp words from him, we decided to take our group elsewhere. We ended up at the Baskin Robbins in Pflugerville, where they were happy to serve us and take our money. You would think a restaurant would want a group of 15 to stop by, but for some reason, this one didn’t. Oh well, their loss.
After cooling off with some ice cream in the AC, we headed back home via the tollway.
It was good ride, but it’s still really hot. The two cool days really got my hopes up, but after living in Texas for 50 years, you would think I would know better.

or We are our own worst enemy!

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that most motorcycle accidents are the result of someone turning left into them from oncoming traffic. That apparently wide-spread belief has never felt right to me based on my own half a million miles on the road, and it clearly smacks of an attempt to rationalize responsibility away from the motorcyclist.

I have included the complete text of a July 1994 report issued from the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety at the end of this Tip because I could not find a URL to let you link to it yourself. [I found a URL to it after I created this tip: http://www.wsdot.wa.gov/PPSC/Research/june95.htm.] In summary, however, it makes the following points:
Running off the road, usually in a curve, often involving alcohol, and almost always a ‘single vehicle’ accident accounted for a stunning 41 percent of the total motorcycle fatalities. This is more than twice the percentage of any other cause.

The running of a traffic signal in an intersection, most often a stop sign and most often by the other vehicle, accounted for 18 percent of the total accidents.

Oncoming, head-on crashes accounted for 11 percent of the total. Very few of these were in intersections and a few were on divided roads. About half were on straight roads and the other half on curves. 58 percent of all these crashes were attributed to the motorcycle rider’s failure to stay in lane or using excessive speed.

Left-turn oncoming crashes, as with the oncoming crash type described above, involve vehicles traveling in opposite directions. However, for this crash type, one of the vehicles is in the process of making a left-turn in front of oncoming traffic. This was the fourth most common crash type accounting for only 8 percent of the total. The left-turn was almost always being made by the other vehicle and not the motorcycle. That is, the motorcycle almost always had the superior right of way. This crash often occurred at intersections (69 percent) or at driveways and alleys (7 percent).

“Motorcycle down”, meaning the motorcyclist loses control of the bike (including deliberately ‘dumping’ it) and it goes down on the roadway, accounted for another 7 percent of the total. These usually occurred on dry, level, and straight roads.

These five categories account for about 86 percent of all the fatalities looked at. “He didn’t see me” excuses could only be used in about half the ‘running traffic signal’ and ‘oncoming’ situations as well as most of those categorized as ‘left-turns’. In other words, no more than about 20 percent of all these fatalities involved a second vehicle that could have claimed not to see the motorcyclist. That’s a long way from ‘most’. Further, while the report goes on to make some suggestions about how to reduce these accidents, it does not read like the writings of a motorcycle rider. To suggest that an important possible countermeasure is to ‘avoid excessive speed when entering an intersection’ pales in comparison to simply insuring that another vehicle is on your right side as you enter intersections, for example.

- James R. Davis