HILL COUNTRY 2010
 
 

Day 02

May 01

 
  I'm up at daybreak to get SweetTreat ready to roll on down to Texas to Ken's house. I love it here at Dennis's place - out in the country and very quiet.  
   
  I get out the garage and finish packing up. Dennis had some water proofing spray that he let me use to re-retreat my rain gear. It all seems to be dry now so hopefully I'll not have to test it again on the trip.  
   
  Dennis and I have a discussion about whether I follow them into Oswego for breakfast or ride with them in the car. Against his better judgment, I opt to ride in so I can leave straight from the restaurant. Brother Bill will be accompanying us, so we bid Dog a good-bye and we're off like a dirty shirt. If I understand Dog correctly, there is a request to Dennis and Bill for some biscuits to be brought back upon their timely return to the premises.  
   
 

There's a little rain falling but not enough to test my rain suit, and for that I am thankful. The gravel road is a little slick, but at least it is well maintained. Riding a gravel road on an ST1100 is a bit like a bank robbery -

"Don't nobody make no sudden moves and nobody will get hurt!"

 
   
  We stop at their favorite local breakfast watering hole - Tina's Cafe. I've been here before and they serve mighty fine grub. It reminds me a lot of the small cafes around where I grew up where everybody knows everybody and the waitress treats you like a long lost friend. No fancy frills, no put ons, just good food and good service and a coffee cup that you never see the bottom of. But since I don't drink coffee, she does the same for my tea glass.  
   
  But Texas is still a pretty good ways off from Kansas, so we finished up and I snap a shot of Dennis and Brother Bill. They tell about a motorcycle museum in the Hill Country whose owner was friends with Bill back in Australia. I make a mental note as to try to stop by when we are in the area.  
   
  I give them both a good hug, then point SweetTreat south. I have the road pretty much to myself this morning which suits me just fine. I plan on spending most of the day on back roads instead of the slab, That is the way I prefer to do it when I have the luxury of time.  
   
  Fortunately, the weather is cooperating and the rain stops. So when I make my first gas stop, I can put away my rain gear.  
   
  As I make my way down highway 75 through Weleetka, Oklahoma, I have the distinct feeling that nobody from the government has bothered to tell these folks that the economy has recovered. But then this is a long way from the Washington Beltway I guess. Having grown up in a small town, it breaks my heart to see places boarded up and neglected, knowing that someone got hurt in the process. And this is a too frequent recurring scene as I travel across the back roads of America.  
   
  They do have an interesting building for their historical society. I just hope there are folks still around in the future to keep it going. As I ride on out of town, Bubba (or at least that's what I think his name was) is riding a Harley with ape hangers. He decides that he is going to race this old gray headed man on this funny looking Honda. He's a little slow on the uptake, but he finally figures out that noise does not equal power as he becomes a vanishing point in my rear view mirror.  
   
  The closer I get to Dallas, the heavier the traffic gets. I look around and realize once again that compared to me on my ST1100, they all have 'right of weight'.  
   
 

I need fuel near Sherman, so I chose an off ramp which almost proves to be my undoing. Cars and trucks are whizzing by on all sides with no intention of letting be get over. I finally see a little break and make a dash through the mess It reminds me of driving the bumper cars at the state fair - but at least I get through without getting bumped this time. I call Ken to let him know where I am in case he wants to evacuate before I get there.

"Well, you should be about an hour away from where you are" he tells me.

"Good. Now if I can just get back on 75 without getting killed I'll see you shortly."

 
   
  Highway 75 and I635 are just insane - but then I have come to expect that when I am in the area. I finally leave the insanity behind as I get nearer to Ken's place.  
   
  Ken is waiting for me to arrive and I am glad to be off the road. Miss Molly, the Queen of the Manor, is waiting for me to pay proper homage and respect to her. After all, she has lowered her standards just to let a road bum like me come into her house and spend the night. She keeps a careful eye on me to be sure I don't steal her food bowl, cushion or other important items like that.  
   
  One of the places that I love to go to when I'm at Ken's place is a restaurant call Babe's. They have some of the best veggies and fried chicken that I ever wrapped my lips around. There are some more ST riders that want to meet us there, so we post up when we'll be there on the ST-Owners.com site.  
   
  Big Red, Joe (who runs the ST-Owners site) and Ed (who just got his ST1300) are there. We have a big time talking about motorcycles and life in general in between shoving large portions of scrumptious vittles down our gullets. After we have demolished all the sustenance we can hold and still breathe, we wander outside and carry forth.  
   
  I notice Joe is trying to brush something off his shoulder so I try to help - that is until I realize what the 'something' is. The perpetrator is sitting high above us, admiring his handiwork and excellent aim.  
   
 

I tell Joe -

"Makes you feel just like you are at work, don't it?"

We all have a good laugh, and Big Red produces a rag to assist in removing the debris. After we've about wore out our tongues, we bid each other fond adieus and Ken and I head back to his place. I'm pretty ragged out so I turn in early and it does not take long until the rack monster has another victim.