West 2007
  
 

Day 12

September 23

 
 

When I wake up this morning, I decide that I'll get breakfast somewhere else down the road. The 'decor' of the restaurant where I ate last night is just a little too much to sift through again. But before I check out and load up the SweetTreat, I go out to face the moment of truth. I give the rear tire the old 'kick' test and it does seem to be in a decent state of inflation. When I put the tire gauge on it, it has only lost 2 pounds since I plugged it last night. I think to myself -

"Well, glory be! I may just make it to the Holler today after all."

I put a little more air in it just for good measure then give it another spit test. Once again, no bubbles are blowing which is a real good sign. I go back in to get my stuff and check out. There's gas station across the street, so I wheel over there to start the day out with a full tank. A couple in a mini-van with a very large English sheep dog in the back seat pull up to the pump in front of me. When the lady opens the front door, the dog escapes quicker than you can say 'What happened". She is calling for him frantically because there are cars whizzing on the road nearby. Sensing a train wreck about ready to happen, I step away from the bike, look at him and say -

"Hey, buddy, Come here a minute and let me pet your bony head."

He lumbers straight to me since he understood exactly what I said. And I do as I promised, as I gently grab a hold of his collar. The lady is both amazed and thankful. I tell her -

"Well, I reckon he knows a professional dog petter when he sees one."

With the big boy back where he belongs, I top off the bike and get back to the slab slaying. As I approach Oklahoma City, it reminds a lot of the Nashville skyline back home.

 
 
 
  Rolling along I40 gives me plenty of uninterrupted think time, so I start calculating about what time I should be home. I've actually gotten pretty good at this over the many years of riding and it has become something of a game just to see how close I can get. But then my reserve light comes on and reminds me that I'd better find some gas or else my estimated arrival time will be way off. Fortunately, the next exit at Henryetta, OK has a Shell station so that makes it easy. As I'm filling up, my stomach reminds me that something else needs filling up. Across the parking lot I see a restaurant with a name that's right down my alley - 'Pig Out Palace'. So SweetTreat and I wheel over there to check it out.  
 
 
  I walk in, and sure enough they have a breakfast full of wonderful 'pork products' as my fellow rider Peter Menard says. It's actually quite good and I figure if I eat a big breakfast, my next meal stop can be at home. When I go up to pay at the register, I notice that they have old fashioned lye soap for sale. Since my wife loves to have some to ward off poison ivy, I pick her up a couple of cakes. With a full tank and a full stomach, I'm on the move again. The revenue stream in Arkansas must be dipping low, because I've never seen so many state troopers sitting under bridges and behind bushes as I've seen today. In about 2 hours, my body decides I need a break really bad, so I pull over at the Kountry Xpress in Mulberry, AR and take care of business.  
 
 
  With that fill up, I figure I should be able to make it easily to the other side of Little Rock. When I'm in road mode, I prefer to stop at places outside of large cities so it's an easy off, easy on with little time wasted. I stop for fuel at Carlisle, AR and see that I'm right at 100 miles from the Tennessee border. That means only one more fuel stop and I'm in the Holler, probably less than 6 hours. Once I get the Tennessee state line in Memphis, I can count down the mile markers. The old Welcome sign is indeed a welcome sight after 12 days on the road.  
 
 
  One of the notable landmarks in Memphis, besides Graceland, Elvis's old mansion, is the pyramid. I pull over so I can get a shot of it from the road.  
 
 
 

I've made this run from Memphis to Nashville so many times, I can almost do it in my sleep. I just go on automatic pilot, knowing I need to fill up again somewhere around the other side of Jackson. I find my usual stop and pull in to fill up. I go inside for a coke and peanut break and the lady at the counter asks me -

"Where you headed?"

"Back home to Nashville. I've been on the road for a while and it'll be good to get home."

"Man alive, seems like everybody is headed to Nashville."

I stretch this break a little bit before I make my last little push. The highway patrol is thick on this section of I40 like they were in Arkansas. I'm wondering if they are looking for drug runners today or something. But within 2 hours, I should be pulling into my driveway. My estimate is not far off, and my lovely little Princess dog does her little victory dance for me when I come to a stop.

 
 
 
 

The refrain from that old John Denver song comes floating through my brain as I unload the SweetTreat -

"Ain't it good to be back home again ..."

THE END

 
 

SOME FOOTNOTES

The plugged tire still was holding up, so I decided to see how many more miles I could get out of it in local travel. I live pretty close to work, so if it failed it would be no big deal. It held for 1300+ more miles before the tire finally wore down almost to threads.