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[ST] Ride Report, Barber Part Two




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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