Soldiers, farmers and cops: Arkansas and Louisiana

Day 2, August 6

A restful night. The rain is to the northwest and moving my way. If I get out of town and ride south, I should be able to avoid that large mass of green and yellow on the radar screen. I start packing the bike.

There are quite a few soldiers staying at the motel, maybe a dozen. U.S. Army. As I complete the packing of the bike. I wanted to put new batteries in my GPS. I dig into a bag, pull out a couple of batteries, remove the back of the GPS and install them as one of the soldiers walks over to me. He’s a captain.

“Where you headed?”

It’s always the same question when someone sees a motorcycle packed for travel. We engage in some conversation about motorcycle travels, and the bike, when I ask him what the group is doing.

“We’re from all over the country, and we’re here on a mission. We’re all medical technicians, dentists or doctors, and we’re serving some of the rural areas near here to give exams and dental care to kids.”

That’s pretty cool. Why don’t we hear more about military serving in this capacity here in the USA?

I also shared with him how I was working with Veterans with Project Healing Waters. It’s a recreational therapy for wounded warriors and soldiers with PTSD. He seemed very interested and wrote it down on the business card I handed him. I wished him well and thanked him for his service.

I pulled out of the motel and headed towards US 61 to take the two-laners for the day. Riding through town I spotted the neatest Art Deco building—the Greyhound Bus Station. What a wonderfully preserved building.

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As I headed through town, I kept trying to turn on the GPS so that I could know where I would intersect US 61, but it would not turn on. I must have installed the batteries wrong, I thought, and looked for a place where I could pull over to check. Just up ahead, I saw the sign for US 61, approached the stop sign, turned left and then into an empty Pizza Hut parking lot to check the batteries.

Yup. I Installed one battery wrong. Fixed it, and put the GPS back together, and then into its holder. I start the bike back up when this big F-250 diesel Ford pickup truck with dually wheels pulls up next to me in the parking lot. It’s the kind of truck you see in any farming community. The driver shuts off his vehicle and says, “Are you traveling? Is that a V-Strom?”

We have a good short conversation about motorcycles and travel and the KLR 650 he used to own, and I notice glimmer of a dream in his eyes. It seems like a serendipitous moment.If I had installed the batteries correctly back at the hotel, this conversation would not have happened. Then he says, “Have a good day. I’m going to pray for your safe travels.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

I ride south hoping I can stay off any and all interstates today. Two-lane travel allows you to see a lot more and experience more of small town America, like the blue lights behind me.

I rode down US 79 and planned to buy gas in Marianna, Arkansas. As I pulled into town, I came up to a stop light. I pull up to the red light and wait for it to change. There had not been much traffic. In fact there was very little cross traffic. Just 100 yards down the road was a gas station, the object of my desire.

I wait for the light. I wait some more, and then I realize that my motorcycle is not tripping the light. Everyone who rides knows this is sometimes a problem. Motorcycles often times are not heavy enough to trip the sensor that lets the electronic system of the traffic lights alter traffic.

Now what do I do. There is no traffic behind me to trip it. I make the decision to proceed cautiously and safely. No traffic from either direction, I pull out, and turn into the gas station. I stop next to a pump and get off the bike, and there is a law enforcement vehicle behind me with his blue lights on. Damn.

I remove my gloves and then my helmet, and walk back to him. “I bet I know why you’re here.” I’m putting on my best face and smiling. “I must have sat at that light for four or five minutes, and I could not trip that light. I thought about backing up, turning right and then going around it. But, I decided to wait for traffic to clear and then safely proceed through the light.”

He asked for my license, but didn’t want to see registration or insurance, and then he tells me several other motorcycles have not been able to trip that light. So, he decides to let me go. I thank him. Then he asks about my travels and the bike! We had a nice short conversation. He turns off the blue lights, and then pulls alongside my V-Strom to get a better look. “Nice looking bike. You ride safe.” And then he was gone.

Serendipity? Maybe. But …. just where did this guy come from to be behind me in the blink of an eye? I sure didn’t see him. Maybe there was something special in that farmer’s prayer back in Blytheville.

Arkansas is rural, and the land on the west side of the Mississippi River is flat. Fields are full of soy beans, corn and rice. The rice was a surprise to me, but then the bottom land is probably good for growing rice because it is nearly like wetlands.

The motorcycle rolls along, purrs actually, mile after mile until finally, those state line markers roll into sight. I pull over and grab a photo or two.

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Louisiana … check.

About an hour later, I pull into the motel. It’s 96 degrees with a heat index of 105. The air conditioning feels great. After getting cleaned up, I walk down to the front desk recommendation for walking distance dining, Fat Mama’s Tamales. The margaritas are to die for. Smile

See you on the highway.

Brent

Intro from the road: August Ride

Day 1, August 5.

I had been planning this ride for some time, and it coincides with attending the Horizons Unlimited event in North Carolina. So, if I’m headed to North Carolina from Cincinnati, why am I riding towards Arkansas. Well, there’s a good explanation for that.

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My goal for this year was to finish filling in my “States Visited by Motorcycle Map” for the lower 48. And for some unknown, idiotic reason, I left Arkansas and Louisiana sitting out there in left field. Sure, I had the chance to ride there once. All I had to do was ride across the Mississippi River, and ride north, after I finished riding the Natchez Trace. But nooooooooo, I had it in my head to ride US 61 up to Vicksburg and see the historic battlefield instead.

Duh.

So here I am, at the end of the first day, a rather uninteresting ride on the Interstates for nearly 500 miles and three hours in the rain to reach the first state, Arkansas. Or course there was that little episode at the gas station in Elizabethtown, KY. I errantly entered a wrong digit when the pump asked for my zip code to verify authenticity of the user. When I cancelled the entry in order to enter the correct Zip, it locked up the pump. “See the cashier.” After explaining my error, he reset the pump, I got my gas and went on my merry way.

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On the western end of the Western Kentucky Parkway, I ran into rain. Pulled over in time to put on the rain gear, and just a quarter-mile down the road, I ran into the rain and stayed in it for the next three hours. It stopped as I pulled into the motel in Blytheville, Arkansas.

Arkansas … check.

See you on the highway.

Brent

 

 

 

 

Helmets, helmets and old helmets

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Some riders have two, three, four or more motorcycles in the garage. I have one. But, I have four helmets in the closet. Two of them get used regularly. I decided recently to take the oldest one for a spin, and it re-opened my eyes to a different view.

I bought that open-face helmet in 2004 when I bought my 2004 Honda Shadow Spirit VT1100. Black bike. Black helmet. I even wore a black leather jacket and rode in black cowboy boots. Even though I was wearing a helmet, I looked the part of a biker. I bought a red/black rain suit to repel a little rain.

Good rain gear and apparel, along with waterproof bags, keeps everything dry.

Eventually, I decided that black was not the color to enhance being seen by drivers. And, that open-face helmet was not the best one for riding in the rain. I started to upgrade my gear about the same time I started looking for an adventure bike. At the time, I was writing a few stories for a motorcycle travel magazine, and it never failed. I’d get out there on my tour, and I would end up on a gravel road or riding in the rain. Every ride. I learned that long distance rides in the rain an open-face helmet is not the best choice. So, I upgraded my helmet and jacket before my next feature tour article. I was still riding in the rain, but better protected from the elements.

Intersection of Illinois SR 84 and US 20, east of Elizabeth.

Making the adjustment from an open-face to full-face helmet took a little doing. I like the breeze in my face, and often ride with the visor up. The new helmet provided a narrower view like looking through a port hole. It’s harder to see the full landscape with a full-face helmet, but I knew I was better protected, and decided to wear only the full-face. My old helmet started gathering dust in the closet.

In my search for riding gear that increased my visibility to other drivers, I finally purchased that adventure bike, a yellow V-Strom 650, and a new graphic helmet that lasted about 30,000 miles. The seal around the visor gave out, and so that was was replaced with a new graphic helmet, another HJC. I also upgraded my riding jacket to something brighter.

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When the bug bit to buy another helmet, I decided to try a modular helmet. The modular is very nice. Flip it up, put it on, flip it back down before you start rolling. It’s easy on the glasses, and all of us who wear glasses know what a pain in the butt full-face helmets are if we’re wearing glasses.

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It seems to me, that the visor on the modular has an even smaller portal on the world. It’s probably the design to accommodate the flip-up mechanism. There’s only so much space to work with.

These helmets have taken me safely to beautiful landscapes across the USA—the shoreline of Lake Michigan, the peaks of the Rocky Mountains, the deserts of Arizona, the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, crossing Puget Sound on the ferry to Seattle, the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee and North Carolina, the Great River Road along the Mississippi River, the Natchez Trace, Tail of the Dragon, the Ohio River Scenic Byway, and the many small towns and farms dotted throughout the Midwest. All beautiful landscapes in their own right. All through the portal of a full-face helmet.

And that brings me to yesterday’s ride, when I decided to dust off that open-face helmet and take it for a ride. I have not worn it since I replaced it in 2006 with my first full-face helmet.  It’s a little worn after loaning it to my brother for a couple of years. The chin strap is frayed. The liner has never been washed because it’s not removable. The visor was replaced at some point, so it is not scratched—clear as … well, clear as glass. In all honesty, the helmet should probably be replaced. What is the life expectancy of a motorcycle helmet anyway?

As I slipped that black HJC CL-33 on my head, I found it to be remarkably lighter than the other helmets. My glasses were not an issue. Because there was no helmet protruding to protect my chin, the field of view was wide, so wide in fact, I could not see the edges of the helmet. It was like having an unimpeded view of the world around me and yet my head protected. Even with the visor down, it was a new view. It gave me permission to look at the landscape differently as I motored down the back roads near my home. I could look down at the map in my tank bag without having to shift my head down—there was nothing blocking my view. Peripheral vision was fantastic. Everything caught my eye, and I wanted to take it all in, breath in the magnificence of being part of and one with the environment.

Now, you may be wondering where I’m going with this. ‘Is he going back to an open-face helmet?’ ‘Is he going to get all religious on us?’The answer is no, but not 100% no. I am still going to tour with a full-face helmet, because its protection is so much better. Wearing the open-face in rain, water comes up under the visor and sprays my face and glasses—not good for a safe ride or tour. And about that religion, it is always a good thing to enjoy and share a spirit-filled ride, and who hasn’t felt some euphoria on a ride some time.

My point is this: Sometimes, we need to go back and review our decisions, to try old things on again. The one thing we all share in motorcycling is the open road, to be part of the environment and the landscape—something we can’t experience within the confines of a car or truck. Putting on that open-face helmet gave me a renewed, different view of the landscape and reminded me why I ride—to see the open road and smell the flowers, the fresh cut hay, the rain in the distance, and the sweetness of the pines as I roll by.

Take time to smell the flowers, and remember the reasons you bought that scoot. And one other thing: don’t forget to wear your helmet.

See you on the highway.

Brent

P.S. While I was out riding yesterday, I saw a guy on a Harley riding past me doing about 30-35 mph, no helmet, talking on his cell phone with his left hand up to his ear, and right hand on the throttle. Yup. I asked myself, “Is he using a smart phone?”

Detour

The sign said, “detour, turn left. Road closed .8 miles ahead. Local traffic only.” The detour was also south and away from the intended northwesterly route. How far south would it go? How much of a detour will it be? All reasonable questions.

Life is like that. You come upon an unexpected obstacle and can follow the signs to get around it. Follow the path that someone else has laid out for you, and you will arrive … eventually. Usually, the route is not terrible, it’s intended to carry heavier traffic and yet more time consuming. It can be an inconvenience or a blessing. The detour will eventually take you around the obstacle and back onto your original route. But, the detour path is always somebody else’s idea.

What if there is another route? Where does the road to the right go? What will I discover? Will I get lost if I don’t follow the signs. Will it take longer? All reasonable questions.

There is an explorer in all of us. We all seek adventure to some degree. Granted, there may be adventure in following the signs, but the greater adventure is wandering through the countryside zigzagging down country roads. You may find twisty roads and a countryside dotted with farms. Horses in the pasture. Giant bales of hay freshly cut and rolled awaiting pick up. Clumps of crossroad buildings that carry a name, but are too small to be shown as a small town on the highway maps.

Yes, there is much to be discovered by not following the detour.

I turned right onto a freshly paved country road, and it made all the difference.

See you on the highway.

Brent

Ride to Work Day

Since I work from a home office, the best I can do for Ride to Work Day is to ride to an appointment.

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See you on the highway.

Brent