The World According To Guitarguy

Hello ,

Things have taken a turn for the worse since my return home, as my left knee seems to have given up on me.

It never has been a very reliable joint since I wrenched it severely back in 75 and has painfully popped in and out of alignment every so often over the years since then .

I felt a twinge right before leaving on this last adventure while stepping off of the porch with my arms filled with supplies to be packed on the scoot.

I shook my knee about and gently messaged it until everything went back into place as it always did before and went about my business .

During my trip west the same thing happened a few more times, but I chocked it up to not riding my bicycle enough and vowed to strengthen my leg muscles back up to par when I returned home .

Unfortunately I never got that chance .

My knee buckled one last time and is now just about useless in biped mode, without the assistance of a cane that is .

Something is amiss underneath my kneecap and I believe it’s going to take a doctors hand to hopefully put things back to normal.

Wish me luck…………….

This is the first morning in a little over two weeks now that I won’t be getting dressed, heading outside and packing up my scoot for another long day in the saddle.

I would, but seeing that I returned home last night, it might be wise to give both myself and my travel weary scooter a much needed break . 

Yesterday’s marathon ride spanned the entire width of the state of New York, from the western bordering town of Hamburg, (just south of Buffalo) all the way to Amherst Massachusetts .

The last time I managed to write anything down was from Napoleon Ohio on Wednesday, a word I might add that I had to re-spell three times before I got it right .

(why don’t they change the spelling to Wensday, that’s the way everybody pronounces it)

Is it me or are my posts starting to sound like bad Andy Rooney parodies ? 

Anyway, after working my way across Ohio on Thursday and just crossing the border into New York, I stayed at another an el cheapo motel (The Tally Ho) that supposedly had internet access.

You couldn’t prove it by my computer .

The gal at the desk told me at first, that the nonsmoking rooms on the far corner were having difficulty getting a WiFi signal.

I asked if there were smoking rooms closer to the router base station and that I would take one of those instead.

What I ended up with was a room filled with the stench of a thousand and one cigarettes and a screen on my Mac saying, “You’re computer is not connected to the internet” .

Thus, there were no new postings for that evening.

I watched American Chopper instead on the Discovery channel, ate trail mix in bed, dispensed from the motel lobby’s candy machine and fell asleep with the television on .

Allow me to try and recap the last two days in one post .

Thursday’s ride across Ohio started out partly sunny……or was it partly cloudy ?

I always get those two confused.

In any event, while I was scarffing down another MacBreakfast thingy and some coffee, while the clouds rolled in quickly and the temperatures dropped into the upper 40’s.

I talked to an elderly couple in the parking lot before heading out .

The husband had just bought a bike like mine and was trying to convince his wife that it was indeed suitable for long distance travel .

She didn’t seem as easily swayed by my endorsements……….untill I played the “well, I’ve got two artificial legs and I can ride one” card.

Oh, well that’s a scooter of a different color now, isn’t it ?

I could see by the gleam in his eye , that he would soon be trying to whisk his wife off to parts unknown on their shiny new Silver Wing.

“Well folks, my job is done here, so I reckon it’s time I get back into the saddle and ride off into the sunset”, or in this case sunrise . 

I chose to stick to route 6 east, more flat land and more wind .

It was pretty monotonous riding to tell you the truth , though at one point two white cranes took flight right over my bike as I passed by them .

Because of the weather conditions, I had stop on the side of the road to dig out my fleece hoodie to wear under my leather’s to keep from freezing.

I did this totally unaware that directly across the street from me, sitting in a police car, were two of Ohio’s finest, probably waiting for an unlucky speeder to fly by.

I probably would have been that guy, had I not stopped to don extra clothing. 

I never did get my core temperatures back up to par for the rest of the day and shivered a bit whenever I stopped long enough to realize just how cold it really was .

This weather has really been something else !

Has the earth’s climate shifted in some strange way in the last couple of weeks?,because I’ve seen nothing but persistently high winds in every part of the country I’ve visited since I left Massachusetts.

Route 6 took me through the city of Bowling Green and then ran along the shores of Lake Erie for quite some time.

I’d catch a tiny glimpse of the big brown lake every once in awhile between the housing that has sprung up all along the shoreline there .

Intertwined along the shore were little mansions, big mansions and tired old resort areas that you just knew the real estate moguls were wating to get their greedy little hands on so that they could of course , build more mansions .

Some of these very expensive buildings were, what seemed to be 50 feet or less away from each other.

What ever happened to the old days when we had sprawling mansions ?

I stopped for gas just before heading into the city of Cincinnati and asked the attendant if 6 was easy enough to stay on going through the heart of the city.

He looked at me like I was nuts.

“You don’t want to go through there” he say’s .

He was right .

A few blocks into the Cincinnati ghetto and I high tailed it back to try and find a major route around the city.

I finally found 71 North on the outside of town which connected to 90 East.

Unfortunately it was a five lane nightmare on wheels !

I’d probably been safer riding through the downtown area with a big sign on my back reading “Rich White Cracker On Board” than what I encountered up on that highway !

High speeds, killer traffic and some gusty winds made it a recipe for disaster .

Lucky for me, I never was good at following recipes.

At the eastern side of Cincinnati, I left the hub bub of the interstate and joined route 20, a kinder, gentler two lane road that I would stay on until reaching PA.

You only have to pass through a small part of Pennsylvania before crossing the New York border.

I stumbled onto route 5, another rural coastal run, with spectacular views of Lake Ontario .

This little stretch of New York was wine country and the hills were lined with vineyards opposite the grand view of the lake .

I was tempted to take a room in one of the cottages there for the view, but there was still daylight yet to burn and home was getting all that much closer .

My map informed me that I could link up to route 90, which I did to just outside of Buffalo, to the town of Hamburg and the dreaded Tally Ho Inn.

I really had no one to blame but my self for my lodgings that evening, because prior to the Ho, I stopped off at a Holiday Inn, but scoffed at their $119. price tag .

The Comfort Inn next door was a bit less at $89. , but Nooooooo! , I had to go for the $49. special .

When will I ever learn, that I’m worth a 100 dollar plus motel room ?

So, now on to yesterday’s venture.

My last leg of this journey was pretty simple.

I started it off with a laugh.

While at a stoplight I happened to be idling next to this middle aged guy and his buddy, who were sitting in a brand new Steve McQueen “Bullit” model Ford Mustang.

He was gunning the throaty sounding, high performance motor and stomped on the gas as soon as the light went green.

I was feeling like a smart aleck and gave it the gas, passing his sorry ass up in no time with nothing more than a fully loaded scooter !

(the Silver Wing really does have impressive pick up)

I wanted home fast, so after trying out route 20 for about a half hours worth of miserable construction site delays, I double backed and decided to take route 90 (The Pike) all the way to Massachusetts.

Actually 90 is the more scenic route, seeing that most of it was carved right through the wilderness area of the state .

I settled in nicely , right behind a trucker going for the long haul and set the throttle for 65 , 70 mph.

That approach lasted all but 15 minutes , when the need for speed took over .

I could probably make up some bald faced lies and embellish this part of the story with tales of scary monsters or highway pirates, but pretty much all I did was to go very fast and stop for gas and bathroom facility breaks .

I was however assailed by a low flying robin while doing about 75 mph.

It didn’t fare so well in the exchange I’m afraid and I did not stop to see the outcome, which was pretty obvious.

The dreaded winds again started to gust wildly right about the time I met the MA. border and I had to get off the highway or surely be swept into a ditch.

I chose my old standby, route twenty once again, which sort of parallels 90 all the way to Westfield .

There was an directional error that occurred when I thought that I was already into MA. and took route 9 for the shortcut home .

Oooops !

New York’s route 9 takes one into the boondocks and if I hadn’t had the sense to turn around when I did, I may still be wandering the back country.

Once into Pittsfield MA. and into familiar surroundings, I decided to take the real route 9 over the mountrains and right into Northampton .

I couldn’t believe it when I actually saw it spitting SNOW up in the hills of Goshen !

Once in NoHo, I stopped into the Honda dealership to score some oil and a much needed filter for my poor neglected scooter. (she was a 1000 miles over her oil change schedule)

The parts desk was quite busy, so I used the time to become one of those public cell phone talkers that I despise so much, to have a personal conversation with my Ma and let her know that I arrived safely.

Yes, I told her I loved her right in front of all the tough biker folk.

From there I took the back way home through Hatfield and nothing exciting happened at all to tell you about .

I was Home !

Walking into my apartment was a kind of culture shock, as there were no King sized beds or faux wood furniture to set my bags on and nary an odor of anyone’s spent smoking materials to be found .

There also wasn’t any food to eat, so I immediately called out for a pizza with everything on it .

I felt the need to hose all the bugs off of my scoot while I waited for delivery.

After all, it had taken me so far in these last weeks without asking anything other than to be filled with some petrol three or four times a day .

So there you have it.

It really does seem strange that I’m not going to travel anyplace different this morning, but it’s also nice to be back, because……………..”There’s no place like home”………………..until the next adventure that is !

For those of you who are wondering about the posting title, it’s an old one hit wonder song from the 70’s.

A tear jerker of course, about a man wanted by the law but trying to get back to his baby.

I’ve always been a guy with one foot in the past and the other in the present .

I like all things nostalgia. 

My homemade iPod helmet is loaded with 253 of my all time favorite oldies which are supposed to play randomly in the “shuffle mode” but for some reason or other, it seems to favor only about 25 of them.

I’ve heard the song “Escape” (aka Pinacolada Song) more times on this trip than anyone should ever have to endure in one lifetime.

These songs randomly play through the headphones while I’m riding, bringing back certain memories linked to the times when they were popular radio tunes .

Thus the one foot in the past.

Concentrating on keeping my bike from leaving the road at any given moment or dodging idiot drivers would constitute the other foot’s “present” status.

Sometime the iPod will throw me a curve and play something totally in sync to what’s going on around me at that particular moment .

I was in a snit about this red neck, hill billie, pickup dude riding my ass down in Alabama and up pops Neil Young’s “Southern Man” song , which immediately brought a shit eating grin to my face because I could hear it and HE couldn’t !

If you’re the “sing-a-long” type like I am, things can get embarrassing real fast .

Today I was in Swayze Indiana, a little town right out of the Andy Griffith Show.

I was stopped at a light singing to Aretha Franklin’s “You make me feel like a natural woman”.

Now this is a serious chick song……but hey it’s also ARETHA freaking FRANKLIN !

You gotta sing a long to anything Aretha does .

So I looked around at my then present surroundings and tried to form a mental picture of just what a grown man on a scooter packed up like a mule singing “you make me feel like a natural woman” looks like to your average Indiana type guy.

Whoooooooaaaahhh !!! I’m outa here !

As you may have guessed, it’s been a slow news day and you’ve all just been mulling through a little filler.

I had another good stay at yet another hindu managed motel .

Is there any other kind these day’s ?

The sun was shining when I departed at 8:30 a.m.

There just happened to be a MacDonald’s next door, so I got myself a MacMystery meat breakfast wrap, hash browns , juice and coffee.

I took 40 East until reaching 41 North, another rural but enjoyable road .

Southern Indiana is rich with tree lined, winding country roads which were a much welcomed relief from yesterdays wind blasted grid shaped highways .

41 led me to 47 North (it’s actually east, but what do I know?) to this woodland delight called Turkey Run.

I didn’t see any turkeys running or any turkeys period for that matter , but it was one of the nicest area’s I’ve seen in this whole trip .

I did view a sign there saying “EXPERIMENTAL FORREST” which had me wondering just what our nutty government was up to now. (maybe Maples that produce petroleum instead of sugar sap?)

I was originally going to turn (real) North on 19 to find the town of “Young America” because I liked the name, but missed seeing any such turn off, (I must have been in the “foot in the past” mode) and ended up following 47 to it’s demise.

Route 47 then became just another side road, but brought me out to a major route (31 North) all the same.

For pretty much the remainder of my trip today, it was back to riding the grid.

Without boring you with all the numbers, every time I zigged northward, gusts hammered my bike from the west and as soon as I’d head eastward again, they were much preferably pushing against my backside.

Old route 6 East was my final pick, winds were at my back and all was well with the world . (except we still have the village idiot in our oval office) and life was good.

Noted oddities for today : An Amish man, complete with straw hat and red pinstriped shirt with suspenders, eating in a Jack-In-The-Box restaurant….Talking on a CELL PHONE !

(is nothing sacred ?)  Oh, and 1 Large pink inflatable gorilla.

Roadkill reports have been discontinued, as anything exotic like, let’s say an armadillo for instance have all been left down south .

I rode 6 East across the border into Ohio and am now in yet another Hindi Inn (aka Knight’s Inn) .

This one has a disco lounge and a mexican restaurant . (curry goat fajitas ?)

I’ll stick to my trail mix thanks ! 

I’ll dispense with the packing and breakfast stuff……..no waffle at this motel.

I just brewed the complimentary coffee pack in the room and ate a package of cashews that I had secreted in my scooter’s dashboard sometime ago .

As yesterday’s journey started on a sour note, today’s beginning was a dream .

The same route 72 that I traveled the day before went from worn and bumpy to smooth and freshly paved.

The sun shone, the wind had died down and temps were already in the 70’s when I departed from Fredricktown.

I hadn’t been travelling for very long before I had my first roadside double take .

Did I just see a CAMEL ? 

Swinging my bike around and retuning back to the fenced in pasture, YES!, It was indeed a camel .

Photo Op number one .

Lying down amongst about five or six black calves was this adolescent  camel.

Surely this was to be considered a good omen .

I rode 72 through the rolling countryside until heading North on 51 at Patton Junction.

Traffic was at a minimum.

Seeing a sign for a rest area ahead, I thought it would be a good place to scout over my next move on the map.

I pulled onto this gravel road , just as a tired old looking farmer in a pickup truck was pulling out.

He gave me a quizzical look as I passed him .

I rode down a ways before guessing that this was the old guys farm and not the rest area, but it did have a good view of the bridge I’d be crossing the Mississippi on , so at least I got a picture out of the deal.

The rest area turned out to be on the opposite side of the road.

(Ooops) 

51 would take me to McBride and I crossed the Mississippi into the town of Chester Illinois .

Once again my river crossing would be at a narrows , on an old, metal arched, silver structure.

The brown currents were moving pretty swiftly and I did get to view a barge traveling upstream below me.

Photo Op number two awaited me on the other side .

Chester is the “Home of Popeye” !

There was a park immediately after the bridge, complete with a bronze statue of said cartoon hero, a billboard and a comemorative plaque. (see photo link)

I had a ball running around snapping pictures and going Uk Uk Uk Uk Uk!!!!!

From the park,I followed the Mississippi River north on 3 to the town of Red Bud and started my westward migration via route 154.

The routes from here on in the state of Illinois are pretty much set up in a grid pattern, North, South, East, West.

Large farms spread out on either side, sparsely dotted with little towns and an occasional city, marked by those bulbous multicolored water towers.

I followed 154 until it intersected with 51 North, which I then travelled until finding the old East-West truck route 50 right in the middle of the state .

I then rode on route 50 to within ten miles or so of the border.

Now that I look back on today’s decisions, I probably should have stayed the course on 50, right into the state of Indiana.

A weather front was moving down from the top of the states in a southeast direction and had I stayed further south, I might have missed it altogether .

Instead, I decided to take rural route 1 North on the Illinois side, because some force inside me wanted to beeline for home.

I almost payed for that move though.

Route 1 had very few towns, spread a long distance between them and the dark clouds were advancing towards me.

Add one nearly empty tank to the mix and things were starting to look bleak.

I could see that far off in the northern horizon, that the clouds were a bit lighter in color, so I put the screws to it and tried to make it through the imminent rain clouds and over to the other side.

It started to spit droplets as my gas gauge lowered to the last two indicator bars.

It was then that I finally saw the speed limit signs decreasing in mph, which meant a town was nearing .

Sure enough, I found a gas station in the nick of time and the rains were still holding off.

The kid working behind the counter said that I’d find a motel about 15 miles up the road .

With a full tank, I sped off once more, actually making it over to where the skies were not (too) cloudy all day.

I’m now sitting dry at the Relax Inn , located at Marshall IL. , just shy of the Indiana border and not very far from Terre Haute, the town Steve Martin once proclaimed as “The most nowhere place in america”.

We’ll se about that tomorrow………………….

Well today was my first day of truly heading homeward.

I had a nice stay at the Best Western, which was the first motel that I’ve stayed in with a totally handicap accessible room.

This one had all the bells and whistles !

A two stage height adjusted shower head with fold down sitting board, handrails galore and even a lowered peep hole on the door so that vertically challenged folk could see any evil doers outside in the hallway. (or at least their evil crotches)

The desk clerks said that I had claimed the new record for locking myself out of my room, about two minutes after I checked in. (my personal best)

Then my second card wouldn’t open the door.

The clerk asked me if I had a cell phone in my pocket.

I wanted to quip that I was just happy to see him, but restrained myself.

He explained that cell phones can actually erase the entry codes off of the card.

I didn’t know that ! 

I stayed up a little too late watching “School Of Rock” , starring Jack Black and a host of musical moppets.

Woke up at seven, did the morning chores and had another waffle…..because it was there.

Fetching the porter’s cart on the way back to my room, made packing the bike one trip instead of three.

I exited outside into the parking lot and was troubled to observe a cloud front moving rapidly in a south easterly direction, complete with gusting winds !

Things started blowing off of the cart, which itself became mobile and rolled across the lot.

Not a good sign I thought.

I did after all, decide to reverse my direction yesterday to get away from the mighty winds .

Without taking the time even to call dear Ma, I saddled up and tried to beat what appeared to be oncoming rains.

Route 60 East is a fairly wide, built up highway, which made the wind gusts all that much more challenging.

The speed limit ranged between 65 and 70 mph and my bike sailed the roadway like a Sunfish on wheels.

I became used to it after awhile and learned not to clench up so much and to go with the flow.

Right before my first fill up, I passed through a town who’s name escapes me, that looked as though it had just been hit by a tornado .

Roofs torn off houses and a swatch of trees about a hundred yards wide, that looked like giant freshly trimmed hedges.

The remaining 20 foot tall stalks were still green with May foliage.

You see stuff like this on the television all the time, but it pales in comparison to actually viewing it up close.

Crews were busy cleaning up the aftermath as I rode by and It somehow didn’t seem appropriate to stop to take their pictures.

Later on, in another town, I stopped to photograph a tower with the name Granby painted on it , having lived for some time in a town in western MA. by the same name .

My friend Howard also lives in a Granby located in CT.

60 opened up to a full four lane highway and I poured on the speed, confident in my new found sailing prowess .

At Cabool MO., I headed North on 63 to a town named………….are you ready for this ?

“LICKING” MO.

Of course I had to stop to take pictures of the “Licking Cattle Auctions” billboard . (wouldn’t you ?)

Leaving Licking behind (sorry, pun intended) I took rural route 32 into the Mark Twain National Forrest.

This is where Missouri started to give me the creeps a little .

There was not a lot to see up in the desolate, windy hills of The Mark Twain Forrest and when I did come across someplace, it tended to be “biblical in nature”. (literally).

All sorts of bible camps and signs proclaiming this or that .

I felt like a fish out of holy water.

The higher the route climbed , the shorter the trees and the heavier the winds !

Upon reaching the crest of a mountain, I saw an old mill of some sort, with it’s stacks spewing forth black smoke.

The smoke was blowing horizontally instead of rising upwards due to the winds.

Some of it got into my eyes as I passed, which burned until I finally found my eye drops much later at a rest stop .

I felt bad for the few  homes I saw down wind from this place.

32 split off into 72 East which I rode for the remainder of my journey.

The clouds seemed to be traveling in a circular motion, sometimes leaving blue sky in the center .

I met this fellow biker somewhere along where routes 72 and 21 meet.

He had also been riding all day but from a different direction. (I believe he said route 34)

We were in a one horse town, minus the horse and he was searching for food.

I myself wanted gas.

We talked for a bit and he told me that he was joining a large group of fellow Jewish bikers later on this week.

He had an awesome looking VICTORY cruiser in my favorite color scheme of taxicab yellow and black.

As I left him to fill up down the street, he invited me to join him for an ice cream at this little shop right in front of where we were parked.

I told him that I’d meet him as soon as I filled my tank but did not follow through .

I’m afraid my visit at the gas station further strengthened my desire to get the hell out of these backwoods and into civilization before darkness fell.

The gas station looked like it had been around for ages.

The dirty, brown building was crumbling and the pavement broken up.

The pumps were of the olden days, with the rotating number wheels and the lever that you had to pivot sideways to start the pump, then return upright to shut them off again.

Most of the painted lettering had long since worn away, leaving you to kind of guess what the spinning numbers were supposed to signify.

After topping off, I went inside to meet a nice old man, sitting back in his chair, wearing a t-shirt, who asked me “How much do ya owe” ?

I was going to ask him why the amount didn’t show up in here, looked around the place, said nothing and walked back to the letter less pump to try and figure out my bill .

Upon re-entering the station, I told the man $6.60 and wondered if anyone ever gyped the poor old guy when he wasn’t checking.

I asked about the motel down the road as I paid him and he said “See that liquor store over across the street” ?

“You go over there and ask for a room and then they’ll walk over to the motel and set you up” .

That did it for me, I was outa here and fast !

I waved at the ice cream shop window as I rode quickly by, hoping that my fellow biker would notice me leaving.

Nothing much happened after that, a few stops for gas and water until I finally reached my latest motel (Madison Inn Lodge) and I’m going to be honest with you, I haven’t a clue what town this is in !

I think it’s called Junction City, but don’t quote me on that .

(Update: It was actualy Fredricktown)

That’s what the edit feature is good for.

Good night.

All right, I give !

Yep, The more I thought about having to cross two or three states worth of hot, flat and windy terrain, the more I liked the tiny little tree symbols on my map of upper east side Oklahoma .

That meant that there were forests and hills up that-a-way !

So my friends, a new course has been set.

I will save the wild west for a time when I’m better able to deal with it, like maybe with a fellow biker and some camping gear to help out if something goes awry .

I’ve always travelled by my gut feeling and every decision I’ve made on this trip so far has been a good one for me as far as routes that I’ve ridden .

Today’s was no exception.

My overnight stay at the Bullet Proof Inn (aka Economy Lodge) in McAlester was not the best, but to be fair, it was not the worst either .

The room was relatively clean and if you don’t mind long freight trains passing by on either side of the motel that you’re sleeping in, blowing very loud horn blasts four or five times an evening, well there you have it.

The good side was that I had a cool neighbor to chat with who was also a biker.

We shot the bull for awhile this morning about each others bikes.

He even gave me a motorcycle magazine to take with me for the ride .

Before leaving with his wife, he said, “I wish I was going with you” .

I’ve heard that a lot on this trip .

I gave myself a haircut before showering, utilizing my professional “Wahl Super Taper” electric shears that I brought along so as not to give the impression that bikers are an unkempt lot.

Packing completed, I then ventured downtown in search of food, seeing that the Economy Lodge wasn’t offering any fare.

Backtracking my route towards route 270, I spied a breakfast nook in downtown McAlester called “What About Bob’s” . (A Bill Murray fan perhaps?)

It looked friendly enough .

I parked my scoot in the HANDICAPPED spot so I could keep an eye on it, being it was fully packed.

I didn’t figure anyone would give me a hard time about it not having specialized plates, seeing that I had shorts on and prosthetics in full view mode. 

Breakfast was good, bacon, eggs sunny side, sourdough toast and hash browns smothered in Tabasco sauce !

While eating, I noticed a man that I had seen earlier behind the counter, (that would be Bob) curiously eyeing my bike over .

We made eye contact and he wandered over to my table to chat .

Bob was a biker too it seems .

I told him all about my trip so far and of my concerns of heading any further west and he gave quite a few pointers of where and where not to go and so on .

Bob wished me well and then went to talk to a couple Harley guys at another table .

I stopped by on my way out to inform him of my final decision to head northeast on route 31 .

He approved and when I went to pay my bill, handed it back and said, “Take this with you as a memento”.

Honda used to have a slogan in the sixties that went, “You Meet The Nicest People On A Honda” and they weren’t just-a-kiddin’ !

Route 31 was another hidden gem of a road, not in the best condition, but making up for it in a scenic sort of way .

I kept spying turtles in the middle of the road, some living, others not so lucky .

Normally I will stop and lift the little buggers off the pavement and deposit them safely on the other side, but with no shoulder to park on and traffic speeding by at 70 mph, let the gods do their bidding.

I took 31 as far as the town of Kinta and then turned north on route 2, all the way up to major route 40.

It seems I was heading east on 40 at the very same time that my sister Sheila and her husband Louie were going west on it !

They are on a six week journey around the southwest and back .

(kind of like what I had originally planned)

They’d stayed overnight near Salisaw Oklahoma, the same town I was heading toward before turning northward on scenic route 82 this morning.

I talked with her this evening via cell phone and I do believe we probably passed each other by somewhere along the way, because you know…………….It’s a small world after all.

Route 82 North zig zags it’s way close to the Oklahoma, Arkansas border .

After a brief jaunt on the route 62 bypass it connects to 10 north and eventual 59 north, which will eventually lead one to 60 east. 

59 winds through mountains, lake regions and forest lands in Cherokee country where the temps were much cooler than what I would have dealt with down in the flatlands . (Sheila was quoting 87 degrees where they were)

At one point I crossed two rather long cement bridges both spanning Grand Lake , which consisted of choppy , brown water , busy with motor boats and jet ski’s .

Though I had started to entertain the idea of bunking down for the night and the motels were many in the area, I figured them to be a little too high brow for my needs.

Hell , they even had casinos !

I can see it now………..”Sir , How much credit can I receive for a insect riddled 2006 Honda Silverwing full of dirty laundry”?

“Oh,  well then in that case…………put everything on 31 black to win”

Once on route 60 East, I hauled ass right to where I sit now, in a Best Western Inn, located in the town of Neosho Missouri.

The taste of Taco Bell still fresh on my palate, my laundry done and a KING SIZED mattress with my name on it .

Life Is Good ! 

I could tell by the way the tiny hindu woman smiled at me from behind the bullet proof glass window, that maybe I wasn’t in the finer part of town ……………..but wait , I’m getting way ahead of todays story .

Let’s start at the beginning , shall we ?

My stay at the Best Western in Little Rock was quite refreshing . (they had high speed WiFi !)

Having filled my ever expanding stomach at the BBQ earlier that day , I had no want for supper, besides there was a bag of spicy peanuts in my glove box to tide me over till the next continental breakfast .

That evening, I performed my internet duties, writing blogs and filing pictures and such, then watched a few tv shows .

Don’t ask me what they were though, because I was in the nether world at the time , not from drugs or anything like that , just dog tired !

Morning came on too fast it seemed .

Never the less, I showered quickly, dressed and then went in search of the lost continental breakfast.

Another day another waffle .

I had my scoot packed up and ready in no time flat, but first needed to figure out how to get back on a westward heading.

This Motel was on an off shoot of an on ramp, that headed east only, with no turn around .

The friendly hindu manager gave me directions .

“You take two stop sign and den a left and den anudder left”.

I worked for me.

When I arrived at his motel last night , he told his check in girl to “Geev heem discount, cuz I like Harley guys” !

I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was a Honda, besides I might not have gotten my discount .

My trusty map told me when I last viewed it, that if I braved route 30 long enough there would be an exit (117) for rural route 5 to Hot Springs.

This road was beautiful !

Though it started out at 25 mph and heavily curved, it soon opened up to what seemed to be horse country.

Lots of little fenced in estates and green fields which smelled of what might have been honeysuckle .

Whatever it was , it added to the ambience of the ride .

There was an overlook that strayed from the road if you wanted to view things from a higher level.

I was curious and wound my way to the top, only to find large phallic symbols spray painted along the lane , like perverted arrow markers pointing one to god knows what awaiting at the top of the hill .

I found the parking area to have a multitude of similar pictographs and quite a few names and numbers of local girls, explaining different acts that they might wish to perform.

Ahhh the wonders of youth !

Unfortunately there was also broken glass up there, so I gingerly worked my way back down, then stopped to brush off any shards that might have worked their way into my new tires.

Route 5 led to the city of Hot Springs, right to the downtown area, which was surprisingly nice, and that’s from a guy who doesn’t care for the city life .

There seemed to be a lot of cultural activities going on downtown, but nothing interesting enough to make me want to stop and expand my horizons so to speak.

The route came to a T, which was the beginning of my leg west on route 270.

As most routes do after leaving a heavier populated area, the speed limit increases incrementally .

In this case it wound right up to 65 mph .

The road dissolved from four to two lanes and started to take on a wilder character.

Then it rose up and twisted into those tight cornered switch backs that we motorcyclist dream of !

You know you’ve made it into the wilderness, when you read “BEAR Xing” signs !

The trees grew smaller as the elevation rose and the next hour or two provided a very pleasant ride through the Ouachita National Forrest .

All good things must come to an end .

The end came for me when 270 entered Oklahoma .

The towns I passed through here all seemed old and tired looking to me, waiting for something exciting to happen, like maybe a circus or something to lighten things up a bit.

Maybe I should have brought my santa suit with me .

“Hi Kids, ! Just passing through” !

If I seem a little lackluster in my enthusiasm for the state of Oklahoma, it isn’t without good cause.

I remember my last tangle with the Oklahoma winds while riding the Pan Handle during my first cross country trek in 2004.

I caught a constant 40 mph crosswind for hours on end and had to lean my bike over into the wind just to keep from blowing off of the roadway !

Any speed over 45 mph would make the bike feel as if it would soon take flight !

The only cure was to head north.

I did so at the first desolate crossroads I came to so that I could at least get the winds to my back for a change.

I’m now on the other side of the state, sitting in a cheap motel that has a bullet proof glass partition in the office area and I’m wondering if I want to continue into the windy, hot, western plains any further, or to head north towards the Black Hills of South Dakota .

The temps are climbing and I’m not equipped to do any camping in case I can’t find a ready motel when I need one, that and the weather down in Texas seems to be setting up for some more rain.

I know what some of you are thinking,” WAAAAHHHHHH!! the scooterboy is cryin’ , maybe his mommy will come and take him home” !

Well , the best thing is to get a good nights sleep and mull things over in the morning .

I don’t believe there will be any continental breakfast at this joint .

Stay tuned………………….

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” .

.   

Last night I spent some time viewing the weather channel , eyeing the radar imagery and plotting my next direction that could keep me both mobile, yet out of harms way .

The storm front , west of Attalla Alabama, was moving at a pretty good clip and seemed to form a comma like shape, fatter near the south and weaker towards the top .

My thought was to head right into it as far as I dared to , then hunker down and wait for the storms to pass over before starting out once again, sort of like rushing into the lion’s waiting jaws and hoping he won’t bite you . (ask Sigfreid & Roy all about that one)

Looking at my travel worn but trusty road atlas , I spied rural route 278 that headed due west , straight into the concave portion of the storm front .

The entrance ramp was right up the road a piece from where my motel was located , so this looked like a plan.

First thing in the morning , I opened the curtains to find blue skies, always a welcome sight .

I loaded up the bike before taking full advantage to the ever popular “continental breakfast” , which I ate next to a table full of laughing elderly ladies (one still in her bathrobe) and then I was on my way .

Nine thirty, I thought was a little late for a good start.

It dawned on me later that I had passed into the central time zone yesterday and neglected to reset my watch …………..POOF ! an instant hour gain !

No wonder Ma sounded surprised when I asked why she was up so early .

Once more I picked a winner for a rural travel route !

278 was even better than 11 was yesterday , woodlands covered in spanish moss with a roller coaster landscape, just enough populace to find food , gas and working toilettes , fulfilling all the necessary requirements a motorcyclist could want for .

The road conditions were great and I saw my first armadillo (dead unfortunately) .

I tried at one point, for the sake of my fellow motorcyclist in the forum, to use my Flip-cam to do a live motion moto-cam shot , but must have not pushed the record button hard enough .

Nothing showed up when I checked it later on .

In my defense , trying to pilot a fully loaded scooter, on twisty roads with one hand at 60 mph and not dropping your newest electronic gizmo to what would certainly be a shattering demise is not an easy venture .

How about I just run around the motel room with it and go….Vrrrroooom Vrooooom !!

My plan was to try and reach the town of Hamilton before the rains started falling and I did that , so I decided to push on past the border into Mississippi , to the city of Tupelo .

Speed limits jumped to 70 mph, so I did 80 .

I saw a billboard for a Motel 8 that read 25 miles, exit 81 and with the horizon getting darker , I really poured it on .

By exit 92 the clouds started to spit a little but luckily I made it to 81 with a big smile and still quite dry thank you very much .

As I rounded the rear of the motel to find my room ,I noticed an elderly gentelman walking a tiny dog with a Harley T-shirt on (the dog not the man) .

As it turned out , he has the room next to mine .

We struck up a conversation while I unloaded my bike and he his new two seater , SKY sports car .

I informed him of my plans to ride cross country , possibly to Arizona .

He said that he too was traveling across the states , but in the other direction .

He told me of his wife’s passing on from cancer recently and how they always wanted to do something like this , so now he and his half blind miniature Pomeranian are making the trip in style .

He , in his new car and “Gus” in his newly converted car seat , complete with bedding and a self watering dish . 

Here I am now watching the SUN shine and wondering if I should have dared to push through the front ?

Oh well………………. 

Hi Everyone ,

After a very nice stay at my friend’s place in North Carolina , That would be Margaret & John if you just popped in , I hit the road around 10:30 a.m. and finished up riding around 6:30 p.m. 

I covered 4 states today, N.C. , Tennesee , Georgia and finally Alabama where I sit this minute , in the town of Attalla , just west of Gadsden .

It didn’t look like the weather was going to give this week , so I’m taking a chance and covering as much ground as I can before the next front moves in .

What a week we had !

I haven’t seen this much wind since George W. gave his last state of the union address .

I’m just kidding of course…..I never waste my time watching Georgie .

I almost turned back when the winds started pushing me all over the lanes on route 74 west , which would lead me out of the Great Smoky Mountain range through the Nantahala National Forrest .

But my bike was running good and the thought of putting it back under the covers for who knows how long kept me going .

Once over the Tennessee line I entered the Ocoee Wildlife Management Area which was an awesome road !

There were some pretty hairy curves going on , sheer rock face cliffs without any breakdown lane , this combined with ”Falling Rock” signs and the ever present wonder of what might be around the bend .

Oh yes , then there’s the guy in back of you in the oil tanker truck that thinks maybe you should go faster than 45 mph around curves that are marked for 30 .

It was still worth it .

 I followed 74 West to 11 South , which runs parallel to the major route 59  .

I really do prefer to stay on the two laner’s whenever possible and save the highways for when I need to cover distances quickly .

Route 11 was a very nice break , excellent road conditions and a 55 mph speed limit , not to mention it was very beautiful .

Very green and grassy with gentle rolling hills .

The only problem happened when I entered the city of Chatanooga (go ahead say it………..Choo Choo !) the route just flat out vanished !

As usual , it was a combination of searching about the city asking folk directions and plain dumb luck that allowed for me to find the missing route  .

This has happened to me countless times over the years during my travels .

Old routes get swallowed up by growing cities and become just another part of the “downtown” area , in most cases the part of town that nobody cares to pass through anymore .

Just as giant malls kill local downtown businesses , so do major highway bypasses conquer  what once was the vital main road through town .

Gas stations relocate to the heavier trafficked off ramps and the obligatory fast food franchises take root on either side of the road .

It’s getting harder to find those “mom & pop” motels these days and I usually have to settle for dirty off ramp truck stops and motel chains .

I really like 11 South though and plan to stay with it until I must head westward on route 20 .

I just finished watching a commercial while I was typing this up about crystal meth use , which reminded me that I’d seen a batch of “METH” billboards on the side of the road today .

Has this become the new scourge of the south ?

These ads show a pretty faced woman and then next to her image , a computer generated shot of what she should look like after years of crystal meth abuse .

Is that the new tool in “The War On Drugs” …………….vanity ?

I’m sure drug addicts everywhere are saying to themselves , “oh I can’t go out to score like this…..I’ve got METH FACE” !

Oh well , on that note………..Good Night .