The World According To Guitarguy

Sorry to all who may have tried to catch up on the “Adventures of Scooterboy” for the last three days.

Not that you missed anything mind you .

One can only find so much adventure in a Motel 8 (without a hooker that is) , especially after their WiFi modem died the first hour of my stay .

The remainder of the three day rainy period was spent eating chinese food and watching the Beverly Hillbillies and other cable treats that I no longer watch at my apartment back home .

That’s right folks , I’m one of those freaks that have shunned the shiny black umbilical cord that used to feed hundreds of channels into my tv set .

Instead I own a set of 1950’s brown bakelite rabbit ears that I won off of Ebay .

(why do they call it winning ? , you have to pay for the stuff)

I purchased them because they were the exact same model we had sitting on our television set in 1962 .

I have the photo to prove it .

Now my set only receives three channels when conditions are right , one being PBS and two of the major networks, ABC & CBS .

Does forsaking cable make me in some way, more nobel in character ?

I doubt it , just more in touch with my addictive nature .

Somewhere out there I’m sure there’s scientists testing rats to see if they prefer pushing a button to (A) get a food pellet , (B) have some cocaine , or (C) cycle through 250 channels of mindless drivel .

My bet’s on the drivel .

Anyway , I escaped the Motel 8 this morning , but not until I had my third and final continental breakfast.

(there’s nothing like a free waffle) 

The morning was rather cool, damp and cloudy , but not enough so for me to go another day without the internet !

I jumped on 78 west (which is really northwest) temporarily, but decided at the last minute to change course and take 30 south to 278 west, once again ditching the highway for my more favored back roads .

78 was only going to lead me right smack into the city of Memphis Tennessee and I’d already done the Elvis corridor on my last journey .

It was another uneducated guess that I’m glad I went with .

On my map I saw that 278 dropped a little southwesterly , almost to the Mississippi River and then joined up to highway 61 North . (was this Dylan’s Highway 61 ?)

61 would also take you to the other side of Memphis , but I noticed that halfway up the map there was a bridge that crossed over into Arkansas to the town of Helena .

Thats the way I went.

I was totally expecting to encounter a massive bridge spanning over the mighty Mississippi, but instead found a much smaller silver metal structure with hardly any distance to speak of between the shorelines .

Once into Arkansas I rode route 49 , rural with not a lot of traffic to deal with .

Today’s road kill included one armadillo and two coyotes (and assorted unrecognizable carcasses) , nothing exotic .

49 took me north to I-40 , which I lasted on for about 10 minutes before remembering how much I hated riding it previously .

I mean , it’s ok if you like houses being towed on trailers going by you at 80 mph.

I watched in amazement, a tractor trailer try and pass this particular house , both of them swaying side to side within a foot or two of each other and possibly twenty feet in front of me !

(yes, I was trying to pass the house too)

The turbulence from this dynamic duo was way more than I wished to deal with , so I took the next exit without even knowing where it went and travelled south to try and find rural route 70 west .

70 West appeared in a few minutes and what was to become a rather nice final leg to the day began .

When your out here in the midwest , the rural routes have speed limits that are only 15 mph slower than the highway and you get to absorb so much more of the local culture .

Yes some of it is good and some not so good and yes you do have to slow down to 35 or 40 mph when you go through towns…….but that’s where the people are !

I stopped by this local gas/food establishment and struck up a conversation with this young black man who was admiring my scooter .

I told him that I’d seen a fish shack back a piece and asked his opinion of the food there .

He said , “that place is fine , but there’s a really good BBQ joint down the road a piece , if you like that”.

I assured him that I did “like that” and after saying goodbye, went to find it .

Sure enough , there , around the corner a ways , was this little white and red cottage with a sign reading “Craig’s Bar-B-Q” .

It was small, not very fancy and upon entering the place , I noticed the lopsided tables and incomplete vinyl flooring , but it was the aroma that had me from the get go !

The front room was manned by three black woman , well , actually more of a of cocoa brown.

I myself am a mixture of off white , tan and red from all this riding exposure .

Anyway , they were sitting around a table admiring photos of people on a pink metalic digital camera and laughing away .

One girl promptly took my order and while I waited , a customer, who I believe was a shade lighter than I, came in for a pick up order .

He sat down to the table next to mine and of course asked me about my scooter.

Somehow the conversation steered towards the topic of guitars .

Well I said , “I’m a repairman” and he said “Well I’m a collector” .

The next thing you know , he has his picture phone out and is showing me his collection !

We started jabbering technical terms like , ten tops and flame maple bodies with honey burst finishes, you know guitarguy stuff.

Now the conversation veered to music styles and he say’s “I just saw Govt Mule a while back” who had a bass player name Allen Woody, so I say’s “I knew Allen Woody, because he used to come into the store I worked at before he died” and he say’s “you mean this Allen Woody” ? and he whips off his T-shirt to show me a tattoo of a gravestone marked Allen Woody RIP .

Oh yeah, did I mention that the pulled pork sandwich was awesome !

Only in america !

I entered Little Rock via 70 west, which started out as a quiet, winding road with an almost arbor like leafy covering but gradually morphed into what became the impoverished outskirts of town.  

I somehow got sucked into a multi-laned vortex deep inside the city limits and spit out onto highway 30 West , which I decided in a panic mind you, to follow around the congested part of Little Rock .

Driving highway 30 during rush hour traffic confirms to myself, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I have become one with my scooter .

Four lanes of total madness, flanked on all sides by the cages (four wheelers for you non-riders) doing 70 mph and everyone trying the damnest to get home five minutes before the next person .   

Once safely on the perimeter I sought out the only motel that looked ok enough to leave my bike outside, namely a BEST WESTERN .

Tonight I sleep and will worry about tomorrows travels when the time comes …………..or in other words , “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it” .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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