provided by hosts Ed and Linda Young I was easily able to program the route into my GPS with my netbook. After a great ride on highways 125 and 160 we returned to TMR for lunch at Cookies. We were considering another loop after lunch but before we could make plans we saw Bob LaMear ride in. He had tragic news which shook us and changed our plans. St. Louis member Bruce Nall had suffered a fatal accident on Push Mountain Road during the morning's ride. Despite the great riding weather, instead of riding after lunch I decided to go shopping for a gift for my wife and then returned to a mostly empty TMR.

Most of the happy hundred were unaware of the accident and it was late afternoon before the parking areas began filling up again with an amazing variety of motorcycles. Soon it was time for the short walk up the hill to the banquet area. Awards were presented and an amazing array of door prizes were handed out, including several helmets. The banquet was delicious and satisfying.

I headed back to the room and got my stuff packed and ready for a dawn departure. Finishing up I stepped ouside to find a crowd gathered outside our room. Jimmy and I sat and BSed with the group for an hour or so until folks started saying goodnight and turning in. I had another long day ahead and turned in myself.

Sunday morning dawned cool and foggy. I hoped it would burn off after an early breakfast at Cookies but no such luck. I also was not really prepared for high 50s temperature, with only mesh gloves, jacket and pants in my kit. I dressed out with my rain gear over mesh and slowly headed out acroos the big suspension bridge going east across the lake on 160. Visibility was minimal but once I got away from the lake the fog cleared. However the low sun was nearly as bad for visibility as the fog and my pace remained sedate. I liked the eastern side of 160 better than the western side and I really enjoyed the twisties whenever the sun was not in my eyes. After a few miles on 160 I turned south on the ubiquitous highway 5. It seems to me unusual for a state highway to keep the same number when it crosses state lines but 5 did as I crossed into Arkansas, taking it to Mountain Home. I took Push Mountain Road from there to AR 14 and 9 to Clinton. From Clinton it was US 65 to Conway then Interste through Little Rock and on to Pine Bluff. From there it was mostly US 45 and US 61 to home. 530 miles, 70 miles less than the ride out. It was a fine trip, with great weather and great roads but it is probably one that I will always remember for other reasons.

Adventures in September

Every tale should have a conflict, man against man, man against nature, man against animals, man against machine; this tale has all. And, oh yeah, one more, man against time, fills this tale. Dennis Hedrick, Eric Babcock and I left New Orleans for an early meet-up to ride to Arkansas on an invitation passed on to us by Kevin Yeats. Tony Crowell, the human Rand McNally, and Lee Helton were headed up to play in the hills around Harrison, Arkansas.

We all met at Cash's Truck Stop in Port Allen at 6:20 AM on Thursday morning. My wife and I had gone up to Eureka Springs in August in the convertible. It was so hot we couldn't even put the top down, really. The temperatures were 100*F to 105*F every day. I was hoping it would be cooler for this trip. Dennis and I debated about him getting a radar detector. I navigate (my Garmin) and he leads with his electronic cruise control. Since he is normally in front, he is the one who should have the radar detector. Various enforcement localities have noticed his lack thereof too. So, while Barbara and I were sweltering in Eureka Springs, I decided to stop his procrastination and get him set up with the help of CycleGadgets. When we returned to New Orleans in our smoldering car (close to spontaneous combustion), I dropped off the package to Dennis, he wrote me a quick check (free shipping). He installed his new protection system. About three days later he called and said, "I can't go".

So I promptly called CycleGadgets and ordered one for my bike. It came and I installed it. Then Dennis said. "I can go, but I will have to return on Saturday instead of Sunday". All these background facts are relevant, as you will see.

The six of us assembled at Cash's that Thursday morning oohed and aahed each other's bikes and equipment. Six bikes equipped with four radar detectors and three GPSes. Dennis: wine red BMW R1200RT; Tony, bright red Honda VFR; Eric, midnight blue Kawasaki ZZ1200R (still the most luminous Kawasaki on the planet); Lee, silver Honda CBR1000; Kevin, silver Honda VFR (yes, he brought the baby) and me on my bright blue BMW K1200R Sport. Dennis explained how he could now pack for a three day trip in a container the size of a VHS tape cassette, including rain gear, shaving kit, spare shoes and casual clothes.

Tony's route from Port Allen from LA 415 to LA 190 to another off beat road that took us across the Morganza Spillway, the actual spillway where the gates are raised and lowered. Eric turned on his left blinker. Tony and Kevin fiddled with their MP3 players, in all, a normal start to the trip. After that, the fair two-lane country highways meandered through flat south Louisiana farmland interrupted by the smallest towns. Curiously all the radar detectors were beeping quite frequently. A patrol car would pass and the beeps would continue so we kept at the speed limit and only passed where it was legal. In an hour's time we saw and detected about seven Sheriff's Deputies and State Police cars.

Then suddenly a State Police cruiser coming from the opposite direction turned and blocked the lanes in front of us and the officer flagged all of us to the shoulder. Then in a flash, three more State Police vehicles pulled up behind us. We killed the engines, quickly silenced out radar detectors and nervously waited for the rest of the story, so to speak.

The first officer to speak said, "There have been calls about you all weaving in and out of traffic and speeding". Tony spoke up first, with the confidence of being a Federal Agent, "Hey, we weren't speeding and we were only passing in the passing zones". Lee, also a Fed, brazenly piped in, "We didn't do anything wrong". The State Police officer repeated his statement. I pulled my helmet off (still sitting on my bike) and said, "Yes officer, we believe you that they called in, but we really were behaving". That respectful statement and my gray hair allowed them to see that we weren't a bunch of crotch rocket stunters or irresponsible kids. He said, "Well, I just wanted you to know that they called in. We don't have anything on you and have not seen you commit any offenses, take it easy".

A round of "Yes, sirs", and we were off. It was a marvelous stop. They had coordinated it and corralled us without our knowing they were coming. They were smiling as we left, I am sure recalling the old guys in the "Wild Hawgs" movie. We changed our route a couple of more times in the next 30 minutes, which may or may not have been in the plans. (Man against man).

We stopped for a reasonably quick breakfast at Grayson BBQ in Clarence, and then Dennis ate some pecan pie as we enviously watched, all wishing we had thought of that. We took roads that were pleasant and empty, and then suddenly we were in Arkansas. We passed through Hope, Arkansas, which is the boyhood home of Bill Clinton. We saw the little "town" of Evening Shade made famous by the Burt Reynolds TV show of the same name. The back roads chosen by Kevin and Tony led us to Mena, Arkansas, by 4 PM. We also found the national treasure trove of 1950's cars. There were a few more saves by the radar detectors, which amortized their cost on the first day of use. The searing heat of the previous month was gone and we had a delightful day, only getting warm from 2 PM on.

Friday morning was foggy. We waited until 7 AM (sunrise) then 7:30 and the fog was thinning. Wipe, ride, wipe. I tried riding with my visor open which yielded fog on the inside of my glasses, on the outside of the lens, on the inside of the visor and on the outside of the visor. So when I snapped the visor shut, it was instant terror as all I could see was like looking through frosted glass. When I could see, I could see that everybody was wiping with finger "windscreen wipers". (Man against nature). The roads chosen were nearly devoid of traffic and a lot more interesting than Louisiana roads. Hills, curves and a plethora of dead skunks (it must have been skunk Kool-Aid suicide week) greeted us as we whizzed toward our eventual destination for the day, Harrison, Arkansas.

Still early in the morning, an on-coming SUV flashed its lights at us. I was warily looking for a hidden patrol car or road hazard. Then, there it was! Two young cows, the lean fast age, were on the right, just off the road. I slowed way down as they got spooked and turned up their speed, running in the same direction we were headed. Then they crossed in front of me and paced us in the grass on the left side of the road. I was going about the same speed as they were and we were about 10 to 15 feet from each other as they crossed. "Git along little doggies". The rest of the wild hawgs passed them without incident. (Man against animals) We had headed north on Highway 71 then took Highway 23 north. An interesting part of Highway 23 is also known as The Pig Trail. We stopped at the Turner Bend store, a little gas station/convenience store, as cameras were made ready. We stopped fairly often for water. We played in the Ozark National Forest a while. Lee shot video of us as we rode from time to time.

Lee's riding position is the direct opposite of Dennis'. Dennis is upright and comfortable; Lee looks like he is speeding even when he is stopped. His Honda's handlebars are about even with the top of his seat, forcing riders into a racing posture. They both can turn up the heat and ride assertively. As the day progressed, we headed north toward Branson into Missouri. Then eastward and we bogeyed on Highway 160 to Theodosia, where we ate "lunch" at Cookie's restaurant. Cookie's is on Bull Shoals Lake and served us some fine pie. We had eaten a large late breakfast and just pie was just right. Tony and Kevin laughingly told us camping stories as we ate pie and looked out over the lake. Roughing it for Tony is sleeping on top of a picnic table, swatting bugs, and for Kevin, its staying somewhere without room service. By noon any patch of rubber akin to a chicken strip was obliterated from all tires. These Louisiana MSTA-ers are a snappy group. By evening we had ridden about eight hundred miles in the first two days.

Saturday morning was departure day for Dennis. He was restless and got up to look at the fog at 1:27 AM and then again at 3:02 AM and leaving at 4:45 AM to get back for family obligations. He had a long solitary, safe and uneventful return. (Man against time)

The rest of us wandered into the lobby for the free breakfast at the Days Inn from 6 AM through 7 AM. Around 8-ish the fog cleared enough and we started. This day's ride was as perfect as riding can get. The weather was great, the company was great and the roads Kevin and Tony had selected were outstanding. I'd tell you how many miles it was but I had to send my GPS off for repairs. I'll guess that it was about 320 miles. It was still a little foggy as we left Harrison and climbed above the fog on Highway 43. Serene and beautiful, it reminded me of flying, smoothly leaning right and left through the cool morning air above the clouds. The earplugs comfortably quieting the whistling wind noise as I enjoyed the powerful acceleration coming out of the curves, smiling as big as a kid. Then we plunged back into the thinning fog, then back above it. The roads were in great shape. Smooth Highway 123 with its switchbacks challenged us and its curves wore at the shoulders of our tires.

Since Dennis, my usual riding buddy, had headed home, I told Tony and Kevin that Dennis and I have Medical Air Services Association coverage (MASA). In the event of a helicopter being needed, I was covered. I showed him my helmet sticker with the phone number and told them about the wallet card. We backtracked west on 160 to 125 south and rode across Bull Shoals on the Peel Ferry. The next featured road was Tony's favorite in Arkansas, Highway 14. It was outstanding. This road epitomized Arkansas' attraction for motorcycles. The next turn was north on Highway 314, Push Mountain Road. This road is well paved with wide well cared for shoulders. There are guardrails and good signage. The traffic was so minimal; it was like it had been diverted for our riding pleasure. South on Highway 5, a fill-up and a short diversion to the Swinging Bridge at the Holiday Resort, then it was hightailin' it west on 14 again. By this time we had ridden about 250 miles. Then it was west on 62 to the tame part of Highway 123 (south) until it intersected Highway 7 (north). Along the way we came up on some locals. Kevin was leading and although I was tired I joined him in a spirited chase and victory for LAMSTA.

About two or three turns from the end of the curvy part of Highway 7 on our way back to Harrison, I blew a turn. I ran wide, stood up the bike, as there was no way to stay in the other lane and avoid the on-coming traffic, and I nailed the ABS brakes for all they were worth. There was too much speed and too little stopping room. As I left the pavement, I was thinking… almost nothing. When your wheels are in the air, there isn't much you can do. I was calm and expecting that this was going to be bad. The bike dropped five to six feet into a granite-lined ditch. I would guess I was down to about 15 to 20 mph as I became airborne. As I hit, my chest and face slammed into the GPS and windshield. The bike came to a stop and I was a little stunned. Tony rode up thinking that this couldn't be good. I suppose he was thinking about that helicopter business.

Passersby stopped immediately and I suppose they were expecting the worst (I did) asked, "Are you all right"? THEN, the most amazing thing came out of my mouth. That is when I was so surprised and pleased! After a slight pause, "Yes… yes I am"!!! I happily answered. I wasn't expecting that! The bike was ride-able and I only had a scratch on the bridge of my nose where my glasses had been forced down by my helmet. My chest was bruised from taking on the GPS. There are some small repairs to be done, but at the time the only thing needed was JB Weld to fix a puncture in a radiator cooling water elbow. Eric worked tirelessly until repairs were made and Kevin graciously went for fresh coolant. I was restless that night and promised myself to slow down when I am tired in the future. (Man against machine)

Sunday was less foggy at first and the sun was a difficult angle as the five of us made our way back south. I had taken off the remains of the windscreen the night before and that increased the wind resistance considerably. But it did result in very smooth airflow and a super quiet ride home. We all shared a great breakfast at Waffle House and then we started splitting up. Lee left us there. Then there were four. We took 425 south into Louisiana and down to Natchez. Eric and I split off from the smiling and friendly Kevin and Tony and we went east on 98 to I-55 and I followed Eric's left blinker home.