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[ST] Ride Report, Barber Part Two
- Subject: [ST] Ride Report, Barber Part Two
- From: "STeve Duncan" <xhippy@xxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Tue, 03 May 2005 22:39:44 -0500
So, where were we? Oh, Stuttgart AR, rice capital of America. Nice place
:-) .................
We got up at the crack of mid-morning. Loaded and on the road by 9:30, we
headed northeast on 79. More boring, flat roads but we did not care. The
sun was shining the air was clear and we had a hard time keeping things
under a ton. We didn't all the time, life was good. Every once in a while,
Walker would creep up beside me and look over with a big smile. Just like
old times, Capt. America and Billy, headed for adventure.
The scenery was flat but interesting nonetheless, lots of fields and farms,
communities, very small, waving children and pick-up trucks. Then, out of
nowhere, a strange oasis of bogs and bridges. As my map indicated, we were
crossing the White River National Wildlife Refuge. The White River is very
different down here as opposed to up around Bull Shoals. It's a big slow
moving swamp. The bridges went on forever, actually making turns above the
bayou. It was very cool. Both Walker and I wished we could have stopped
and taken pictures, but there was no place to pull over. Oh well, such is
the memories. I may never get by that way again, but I will forever
remember those bridges.
Somewhere past Clarendon we hooked up with hwy 49, back south and east
towards Helena. We crossed the mighty Mississippi at Helena and stopped at
some big ass Casino for a photo op. Of all my many vices, gambling is not
one of them. This is a trait Steve and I share. We sat in the parking lot
for a while pondering why folks would piss away a life's savings at such a
place. We would both much rather waste our money on exciting trips and
dangerous adventures.
Leaving the splendor of the Casino we ventured on east on 49 to an un-named
road on the map. That road was really a blast. A blast at a ton up plus
for miles. See it's so flat the LEO's have no place to hide. We blasted
along over to hwy 3 and then south down to hwy 6. "Six" would be our friend
almost all the way across the "Sip". And it was mostly a very interesting
road. Clear of the flood plain the hills and curves reemerged, slowly. As
we passed Oxford and Ole Miss, the road got downright pleasant. Nice, nice,
road into Tupelo.
Tupelo sucks. Been there before and it sucked then and it sucked once
again. If anyone knows of a way to avoid that sewer, please clue me. As
far as I know the only way to miss it is the Natchez Trace Parkway, and that
wasn't going in our direction. Birthplace of Elvis, I can see why he got
out as soon as he could. And I think Elvis sucks too :-) Mind numbing
traffic, city streets, and HOT. I got way hot in Tupelo. Finally, I had had
enough, find the interstate (78) and get the "f" out of there! 78 is not
actually an "Interstate" but they had signs all along the way stating
"future home of the I-22 corridor". I don't like interstates, as a rule,
but in this case it can't come too soon.
We crossed the Alabama state line and made our way into Hamilton AL. It was
kinda like a feeling of coming home, Alabama, sweet home Alabama, our
destination state. We stopped at a local store and gassed up and got the
nectar that is Dr. Pepper. Hot, we rested a while and noticed a bike shop
just across the street. Hmmm, looks cool in there. We decide to take a
break and look at bikes. After a bit of sitting on Hyabusa's and DL-1000's
and KX250's we take leave.
We are now back on the two lane. 278 to be exact, and it is a wonderful
backroad. Five point one miles out of Hamilton, disaster strikes. We are
tooling along, having the time of our lives, it's 4 o'clock, about a hundred
miles from our destination of Petrey's house. Perfect. I am coming up on a
school bus full of Alabama rugrats, they are giving me the "pull a wheelie"
"bang a gong, get it on" signs from the back of the bus. Of course I aim to
please. I drop a gear, and pin it, ready to pass them like bad kidney
stone..............................
Nothing, no power, the throttle cable......... gone, snapped, phucke. If I
could relay my actual feelings at this point you could call me Hemmingway.
The life force just drained away. I pulled over in the only available
space, other side of the road, gravel drive into a very nice acreage and
house a quarter mile inside the fence. This was the suckiest suck suck
moment I can remember. 700+ miles from home, sunset, middle of nowhere,
broken throttle cable. Snit.
Oh, yeah, and I can see the Thunderboomers off to the the west that we have
been keeping ahead of all day, catching up with me. Double snit.
To be continued...................
eL Donut
jinete en la tormenta
STeve Duncan
'00-Sprint-ST
'96-DR350S
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