Day 15
States: 43
Miles 8633
Touring bikers watch the Weather Channel like Grandpas watch Fox News. We demand it in our hotels. If the hotel does not have the Weather Channel we don't stay there. We are a demanding bunch. As most bikers do, I flipped on TWC when I arose to see what lay before me for the day. The talk was all about the heat wave gripping the nation. Sweltering heat in Minnesota. Triple digit temperatures in Rochester, New York. Heat advisories had been issued for 23 states. Oddly, there was one small patch among the glaring red covering the entire continental U. S. - my intended path for the day. The predicted high in Pensacola was 91 degrees, a full ten degrees cooler than Rochester. Who would have thought you'd have to leave Rochester and go to Pensacola to cool off? I felt incredibly fortunate. Then I stepped outside my room. Oh my god! The humidity was like a wall that I had to fight through. I carried the tour pack and put it on the bike and my clothing was almost completely soaked. I was going to ride through this? I had no choice. I put on five layers of sun block, finished packing up and departed. Once I was moving, it wasn't bad. It certainly wasn't comfortable, but it was bearable. The fact that moss was growing under my armpits didn't bother me in the least.
I left Florida and set out for Alabama along the Gulf Coast. I gassed up at a BP station, and it occurred to me this was the company that had nearly destroyed all means of commerce in this area of the country not so long ago. People didn't seem to be holding it against them, as the station was crowded with patrons. The reason soon became obvious to me - they had ice. Lots of it. I watched one man pick up four bags and put them in his truck. Ice is big business in this area in the summer. Signs on all of the drink machines warn that you must pay if you take only ice, some have signs indicating they're out of ice. I wondered how anyone survived here before refrigeration was made possible. Maybe they didn't have the Weather Channel to tell them how miserable they were going to be.
My path took me along Interstate 10, but only for a short time. I soon found myself on Highway 98, a four lane highway lined with churches, mobile home sales lots, and fireworks and bait shops. These are evidently the three main industries in this part of Alabama (bait and fireworks shops count as one). The churches are amazing - they're everywhere! At one point I saw three of them side by side. How does one decide? I even saw one mobile home that was a church that also sold fireworks and bait.
After a short time, the border for MIssissippi appeared and Herm, Sigourney, Beatrice and I all crossed into another world. It wasn't apparent at first. Gone were the mobile home lots, churches and fireworks/bait shops, replaced with Dollar General stores and Waffle Houses. They are distributed roughly three each per mile.
States: 43
Miles 8633
Touring bikers watch the Weather Channel like Grandpas watch Fox News. We demand it in our hotels. If the hotel does not have the Weather Channel we don't stay there. We are a demanding bunch. As most bikers do, I flipped on TWC when I arose to see what lay before me for the day. The talk was all about the heat wave gripping the nation. Sweltering heat in Minnesota. Triple digit temperatures in Rochester, New York. Heat advisories had been issued for 23 states. Oddly, there was one small patch among the glaring red covering the entire continental U. S. - my intended path for the day. The predicted high in Pensacola was 91 degrees, a full ten degrees cooler than Rochester. Who would have thought you'd have to leave Rochester and go to Pensacola to cool off? I felt incredibly fortunate. Then I stepped outside my room. Oh my god! The humidity was like a wall that I had to fight through. I carried the tour pack and put it on the bike and my clothing was almost completely soaked. I was going to ride through this? I had no choice. I put on five layers of sun block, finished packing up and departed. Once I was moving, it wasn't bad. It certainly wasn't comfortable, but it was bearable. The fact that moss was growing under my armpits didn't bother me in the least.
I left Florida and set out for Alabama along the Gulf Coast. I gassed up at a BP station, and it occurred to me this was the company that had nearly destroyed all means of commerce in this area of the country not so long ago. People didn't seem to be holding it against them, as the station was crowded with patrons. The reason soon became obvious to me - they had ice. Lots of it. I watched one man pick up four bags and put them in his truck. Ice is big business in this area in the summer. Signs on all of the drink machines warn that you must pay if you take only ice, some have signs indicating they're out of ice. I wondered how anyone survived here before refrigeration was made possible. Maybe they didn't have the Weather Channel to tell them how miserable they were going to be.
My path took me along Interstate 10, but only for a short time. I soon found myself on Highway 98, a four lane highway lined with churches, mobile home sales lots, and fireworks and bait shops. These are evidently the three main industries in this part of Alabama (bait and fireworks shops count as one). The churches are amazing - they're everywhere! At one point I saw three of them side by side. How does one decide? I even saw one mobile home that was a church that also sold fireworks and bait.
After a short time, the border for MIssissippi appeared and Herm, Sigourney, Beatrice and I all crossed into another world. It wasn't apparent at first. Gone were the mobile home lots, churches and fireworks/bait shops, replaced with Dollar General stores and Waffle Houses. They are distributed roughly three each per mile.
Soon we came upon a Rite Aid. I had been looking for an office supply store or a drug store to get some highlighters. I had been awarded the honor of carrying the brand new official Roadglide.org flag on its first extended journey - another story that will be addressed separately, but I needed highlighters to indicate the path that the flag had taken while under my care. I spent a bit more time in the store than planned, mostly because it had air conditioning. When I went back out to climb back on Herm I suddenly realized that I had made a horrible mistake. I had forgotten to cover the seat. My custom made C & C seat contains gel, which is quite soothing to my considerable fanny, but there is one problem with gel. Once it is heated it cools at approximately the same rate as spent nuclear fuel. Having no alternatives I climbed on, hoping the punishment wouldn't be too bad. It wasn't. For the first 15 seconds, that is. After that it felt like roman candles were going off in my back pockets. I couldn't take it any more. I decided that even though I wasn't hungry, lunch sounded like a grand idea. I found a shady spot at a Pizza Hut, covered the seat anyway, and hoped that the Levi's curly-Q pattern hadn't seared into the cheeks of my posterior. Fortunately it worked, and I think I minimized the damage. To me, that is. The gel I'm not so sure about.
With the normal butt temperature requirement restored I set out on Highway 49, running from Hattiesburg to Jackson. What I discovered is possibly the most fascinating and bizarre section of highway in the nation. I hadn't noticed this before stopping for lunch. I had been listening to an audio book on my iPhone, Seal Team Six, since I had left Pensacola rather than listening to music, as I usually do. It's an autobiography by former Seal Team Six member, Howard Watson, and it is a fascinating book, and I highly recommend it. The problem is it drew me in so much that I think I was oblivious to all of the wonder that lay along this road. It's the kind of road that makes motorcyclists cringe. The speed limit is 65, but it is anything but limited access. Cross streets are abundant, oncoming left turns abound, and stop lights bring you from 65 mph (or more - much more) to zero without warning. Despite the copious dangers, this stretch is a must for guys like me. There is enough material along this route to provide a lifetime of blogging. I know I merely caught the tip of the iceberg, but here's a sampling of what I was able to recall at a glance:
With the normal butt temperature requirement restored I set out on Highway 49, running from Hattiesburg to Jackson. What I discovered is possibly the most fascinating and bizarre section of highway in the nation. I hadn't noticed this before stopping for lunch. I had been listening to an audio book on my iPhone, Seal Team Six, since I had left Pensacola rather than listening to music, as I usually do. It's an autobiography by former Seal Team Six member, Howard Watson, and it is a fascinating book, and I highly recommend it. The problem is it drew me in so much that I think I was oblivious to all of the wonder that lay along this road. It's the kind of road that makes motorcyclists cringe. The speed limit is 65, but it is anything but limited access. Cross streets are abundant, oncoming left turns abound, and stop lights bring you from 65 mph (or more - much more) to zero without warning. Despite the copious dangers, this stretch is a must for guys like me. There is enough material along this route to provide a lifetime of blogging. I know I merely caught the tip of the iceberg, but here's a sampling of what I was able to recall at a glance:
- A man dressed as Uncle Sam, walking in the median. He waved at me. I waved back. Thank goodness he didn't point to me and tell me he wanted me.
- A hand painted sign at a house indicating "Gators and Pit Bulls for sale." Sure to be the warm cuddly type of neighbor. I thought it would have been hilarious to put "Poodles" on the sign with an "X" through it, but sadly I failed to follow through on that. I am such a wuss.
- A house with a yard sale sign. The yard had only confederate flags available.
- A catfish restaurant constructed in the shape of a giant igloo.
- A lawn ornament shop proudly featuring the requisite pink flamingos. And not as a joke.
Sadly, I was unable to photograph any of these wonderful observations. But things were coming at me so fast I had to pull over at, where else, a Waffle House, to write down all that I had seen. I probably forgot a couple, but that just makes me want to come back and take my time going down this most amazing stretch of road. Some day I'll be back. Between Highway 50 in West Virginia and Highway 49 in Mississippi, I can't think of any more fascinating place in the world. Why would people want to go to Machu Picchu when they could go to West Virginia and Mississippi? Let's keep that between us, too, OK?
Soon HIghway 49 ended and it was back to the Interstate, I-20, where I had my most exciting moment (I hope) of the adventure. I was cruising along, about half-way between Jackson and Shreveport, LA, happily listening to my favorite, "Muskrat Love," by the Captain and Tennille. OK, maybe not. Probably AC/DC. I was relaxed and comfortable. I came upon a "Wide Load" convoy consisting of a pair of trucks pulling two halves of a mobile home - probably a future church - flanked by pilot trucks in the front and the back. They were not traveling very fast, and as I came up on them I pulled into the left lane to pass. As I got along side the rear trailer I suddenly saw an entire tire fly off of the trailer. And when I say fly, I mean fly! It was literally launched straight up into the air, the whole tire, I estimate it rose about 40 feet. I didn't have the time or interest to see if the wheel was still inside of the tire. I watched in the mirror as the tire flew over the rear pilot truck and bounced in the middle of the right lane and then I lost sight of it. Fortunately I didn't see any cars suddenly veer off of the road. Immediately the entire convoy pulled to the side. I was surprised at how quickly the alert was relayed between all four of the vehicles. I was just thankful that I wasn't delayed by five or ten seconds or I might not be here to bring you this story. I pulled off at the next exit to take a little break. And to change my shorts.
The rest of the trip was, thankfully, uneventful. We got to Shreveport, turned north and knocked out both Arkansas and (accidentally, while looking for a place to stay) Texas and decided to take a little break. An air conditioner suddenly sounded very attractive.
Unusual things seen on the road today:
Soon HIghway 49 ended and it was back to the Interstate, I-20, where I had my most exciting moment (I hope) of the adventure. I was cruising along, about half-way between Jackson and Shreveport, LA, happily listening to my favorite, "Muskrat Love," by the Captain and Tennille. OK, maybe not. Probably AC/DC. I was relaxed and comfortable. I came upon a "Wide Load" convoy consisting of a pair of trucks pulling two halves of a mobile home - probably a future church - flanked by pilot trucks in the front and the back. They were not traveling very fast, and as I came up on them I pulled into the left lane to pass. As I got along side the rear trailer I suddenly saw an entire tire fly off of the trailer. And when I say fly, I mean fly! It was literally launched straight up into the air, the whole tire, I estimate it rose about 40 feet. I didn't have the time or interest to see if the wheel was still inside of the tire. I watched in the mirror as the tire flew over the rear pilot truck and bounced in the middle of the right lane and then I lost sight of it. Fortunately I didn't see any cars suddenly veer off of the road. Immediately the entire convoy pulled to the side. I was surprised at how quickly the alert was relayed between all four of the vehicles. I was just thankful that I wasn't delayed by five or ten seconds or I might not be here to bring you this story. I pulled off at the next exit to take a little break. And to change my shorts.
The rest of the trip was, thankfully, uneventful. We got to Shreveport, turned north and knocked out both Arkansas and (accidentally, while looking for a place to stay) Texas and decided to take a little break. An air conditioner suddenly sounded very attractive.
Unusual things seen on the road today:
- A man in a wheel chair on the side of the interstate - what do you do when your special transport van breaks down?
- Uncle Sam walking in the median
- Yard sign advertising gators and pit bulls
- Yard sale featuring only "Stars and Bars"
- Giant igloo catfish restaurant
No comments:
Post a Comment