Tuesday, May 6, 2014
Copyright(c) 2014, Jim Beachy
Another late day, the latest this trip. For one reason, I was awakened by Kitty at 2:22 AM. "Is that noise going to continue all night!?" The chirping of the fire alarm confirms what she is talking about. I turn over and cover my head with a pillow, with an irrational hope that it will go away, but it doesn't.
"I'm going to call the front desk!" Kitty announces, and does so. "What? Twist it? Can you send up a maintenance man? OK, we'll try that."
I grab a chair, unseat the unit, unplug it, and remove the battery. "That should do it," I say. Just before it chirps again. "I'm taking this thing to the front desk - let them find a place for it!" Just as I'm ready to carry the thing out the door it utters one last feeble chirp and I believe that's the end of it.
Another reason it's a late day is that I have to finish yesterday's blog. Yet another is that we have a very short day of only 200 miles to our daughters in-law's parents, our intended destination for today.
The only reason we overnighted on Leesville is that it puts us in position to revisit a significant event from (we think) 2006. A trip down memory lane.
On that motorcycle trip to the Alamo Run near San Antonio, a loosely organized ride-in similar to the MACH event of this trip. We'd run the Natchez Trace from Nashville TN to Natchez MS,and were slowly making our way on 2-lanes to Texas. In a remote area on Hwy 8 exactly on the border of Louisiana and Texas, right on the bridge over the Sabine River, our afternoon was unceremoniously shattered into bits when we were rear-ended by a 20-year old who later confessed to the Texas officer that he was on drugs. He had a suspended license, was driving a stolen pickup truck, and this was his third offense since his license was suspended.
The impact destroyed our trailer and bent the hitch into a Z so that the trailer was pushed up beside the bike. I still don't know how I kept the bike upright. The driver lost control of the vehicle and ran into an unyielding bridge abutment, which absolutely destroyed the truck and left pieces of the front wheels and engine block lying on the road. Later, the officer called me and said "Your boy's in jail in Jasper. Here in Texas we don't take kindly to drug users driving stolen trucks with suspended license. He confessed all this in the cruiser, and of course the video camera got it all." Months later, I called back twice for an update but the trooper wasn't available at the time so to this day I don't know the final disposition.
Across the river someone heard the crash and came to investigate. Taking a look at the wrecked trailer, this good ole' Louisiana boy said "I can get you back on the road! I can fabricate a hitch from some stock I have on hand." He worked in an auto salvage yard on the Louisiana side of the river.
And to make an already-long story short, he delivered! We towed that smashed-up trailer to San Antonio and home with that old boy's emergency fabrication! Because of the damage, we had to rig a taillight, and it leaked badly, so we had to wrap our luggage in garbage bags to keep it dry, but we got it home.
So today, I want to see if Shawn and his wife Kimmy are still there. Memory lane - no need to revisit the accident, as that moment will always be vivid in my mind, not I'm curious about the salvage yard. I'd marked a waypoint named "Wreck" at the time with the symbol of a skull and crossbones. As we approach the waypoint, anticipation mounts and as we slow, we see... It's closed, fenced in, the building shuttered. By the looks of the overgrown parking lot, it's been closed for a while.
Ok, that itch has been scratched and I won't need to visit again.
A mile into Texas, I'm moderately surprised by a sign: Speed Limit 75. "That's crazy on this narrow two-lane road!" says Kitty. So in a rare moment, I run 5 under for a while, setting cruise to 70 mph. I wick it up to the speed limit a little later, and I can tell Kitty is nervous about it because when brake lights come on in the distance and I come off cruise, I feel her hands digging into my sides.
We cruise through the east Texas Pineywoods region at the posted speed limit. Texas roads just make me feel good. The long undulating stretches of highway where you can see ahead sometimes for miles are always interesting, and I never feel like exceeding the speed limit. When it comes to speed, Texas has it right, in my opinion. There are few places like Texas for this kind of riding!
In Livingston we stop for a break and I fuel up even though we have half a tank. Here in Livingston is another memory.
I was riding to the Holy Smoke Barbecue in Huntsville (the Texas one, not the Alabama one). I'd had my bike serviced by my guy near Atlanta, Gary's Hobbie Shop. Once I left the shop in the afternoon, I decided to ride the entire 800-mile ride with only fuel stops, which would put me on Huntsville at around 4:00 AM. So by the time I reached Livingston in the middle of a dark night, I was sensing the end of the ride, I was tired, and my circadian cycle was at its lowest of the trip. Just easing into Livingston and slowing for a red light, I heard the distinctive minor chord of a train whistle, close but not loud. And a half-second later, a train emerged from an underpass just as I crossed over top. The sound seemed suddenly a million times louder, and the train was almost directly below me, barely 50 feet from my rapidly-decompensating ears, brain, and body. It was the most awesomely frightening experience of my life from the day I was born until this day. Once again I barely kept the bike upright. To this day I never hear a train whistle when that moment doesn't come instantly to mind!
Having replenished our picnic lunch supply last night walking back from the restaurant, we decide to make a 5-mile detour to the Livingston State Park for a little lunchtime picnic. When we learn it would cost $5.00 per person, we opt out and the ranger gives us instructions for another place, which has a "Road Closed" sign. As I pill off the road to contemplate for a moment, local officer pulls up behind me. "I can't think of a worse place for you to stop!" he calls on his PA system. He has a point so we ride around until we find a shaded area where we can pull out our picnic chairs under a large tree of undetermined species.Riding westward into a stiff headwind, we arrive at our destination a little before 4:00 PM.
It's good to see our daughter-in-law's parents. It's good to be in Texas. It's good to be near places where they know steaks.
Today I have no Internet connection and I've done this on my Android smartphone. However, uploading pictures is too difficult so I'll do that later.
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