After moving away from Texas and a readily available source of Blue Bell Ice Cream, a serious cravin’ was flung upon us which moved us to get a ride scheduled for Memorial Day Weekend of 1986. This was to be the first of several annual rides that, over time, became a tradition and earned us a plaque from the Blue Bell Creamery in Brenham, Texas.
Saturday morning, 6:00 am dawned as a beautiful day, with calm winds, mild temperatures, good road, and lots of friends following along. Reservations were made at the Texian Inn near DFW Airport so if we were late, we’d still have a place to stay. Riding at a steady speed of 65 mph, we made good time, stopping every 125 miles for gas and potty breaks.
By late morning, Oklahoma City was in our rear view mirrors and we were over halfway to Dallas. As we continued south on I-35, we noticed some dark clouds to the southwest. Since this was tornado season we kept an eye on this build up and monitored the radio for updates.
As we approached Wynnewood, Oklahoma, the rain was just starting. Up ahead was a deserted gas station so we ducked in there to wait out the storm. Just in time too, because this storm had hail in it! Under the big canopy, we all stayed dry and the bikes were protected from hail damage. Besides, it was a welcome relief to stretch our legs a bit and move around.
When the storm had passed, we resumed our trip in the fresh smelling countryside. The air was crisp and clean, the skies were brilliant blue, and the roads were drying fast. Hammer down!
After a couple of hours, we crossed the Red River and were breathing real Texas air. A great feeling. Most of the folks with us had never tasted Blue Bell Ice Cream so they were in for a treat. We stopped for gas in Valley View and I went inside to inquire if they had any Blue Bell Ice Cream. The lady said they didn’t but there was a small grocery store on the little town square and she thought they might have some.
I rode over to the square, discovered that they did indeed have Blue Bell and promptly bought a pint of my favorite flavor, Cookies ‘n Cream.
Carrying my treat outside, I radioed the rest of the group and told them I was in the park on the downtown square. Notice my priorities? I bought mine before I called the gang. I could be recognized by my big smile and the pint of ice cream in my hand. I soon had company and we enjoyed the first taste of this fine product together. Some of us even went back for seconds!
The store owner and his family came out and talked with us, we took lots of pictures and promised to send extra prints to them. After a while, we saddled up and finished the ride into Dallas arriving at the Texian Inn about 90 minutes after our ice cream meal.
The folks at the motel had a huge welcome banner with a sign on the marquee that proclaimed this as Topeka Touring Society Blue Bell headquarters! How thoughtful.
But wait, there’s more! Inside, we found a huge sheet cake and all different flavors of ice cream. Still being full, we did not really do this spread justice at that time, but the night was still young. All weekend long we were treated like royalty.
Later that evening, our tour guide and concierge, Bob, loaded us up in the two Motel vans and took us to Mesquite for the Saturday Night Rodeo. There I got to see an old friend, Mac the Knife. His name came from his horns which grew down his handsome face like scimitars.
Mac was the meanest buckin’ bull on the circuit and the oldest, smartest, most cantankerous veteran in the entire corral of rough stock. The Mesquite Rodeo guys always ran him out dead last so the fans could see a good show with Mac and the clowns. Did Mac ever actually hook one of the clowns? Yep, now and then he‘d really tag somebody. Mean tempered? Yeah, he really was.
Bob and his assistant took us back to the motel for more cake and ice cream before we called it a day. And what a day it was. Tomorrow will be even better; we’re gonna see South Fork Ranch and maybe have high tea with J R Ewing his own self!
Next morning, we skipped breakfast at the Texian Inn which would have consisted of ice cream and cake, opting instead for some breakfast burritos at a local What-A-Burger before leaving out for the South Fork Ranch.
We got to South Fork early enough to avoid crowds, toured the barns and corrals, the ranch house itself, and just sat around the swimming pool. This place is just like it appears on TV, but considerably smaller; all except for the wooden steer that doubled as the desk where JR signed all his big deals.
After we took the tour of the house, we decided to have high tea on the veranda. Wait! That’s twice now high tea has been mentioned. What is high tea anyway?
It’s natural tea; brewed in a gallon jug by the sun, then served on the second story balcony of the ranch house at South Fork Ranch, hence; high tea. Got it?
For dinner, we searched for and found a great Bar B Que place and ate a passel of it. It was that good. Then we hightailed it back to the Texian Inn.
Bob had roped off a parking area for us on the back side of the motel so we could clean up the bikes, effect repairs, and just gather for good fellowship. He had provided buckets, old towels, and a water hose. Really thoughtful guy.
After cleaning the bikes, we were again eating Blue Bell ice cream while sitting in the hot tub! This is the first time we’ve had a chance to just unwind since we arrived. Tonight we’re goin’ to Mr. Catfish in Arlington for all you can eat catfish and hush puppies. More great food. I‘m beginning to think a salad would be a nice change of pace.
After supper, and stuffed to the gills, (no pun intended) we head back for the motel for a good night’s rest as we must pull out early in the morning. On the way back, I run over something in the road. I’ll have to do a detailed tire check before leaving in the morning.
Last day. This morning we’ll head for Topeka and home. It’s been quite a weekend! I’m full and tired of over eating; I must have gained seven pounds on this trip.
I put the Yamaha up on the center stand this morning and rotated the tires around looking for damage from last night’s mishap. Front and rear tires seem to be unmarked. That’s very good news because today is Memorial day and most bike shops will be closed. Most bike shops are closed on Monday anyway.
It’s a quiet, still morning in North Texas as we string out on I 820 west headin’ for I 35 north. Should be home in ten or twelve hours as the forecast is for continued great weather. We’ve been running at 65 mph for a little over an hour when I hear a loud pop.
I immediately let off on the throttle and holler at R T Newton to pull up alongside me and look over the bike to see if something fell off. He says all he can see is the front tire looks very low. At that moment, I feel the shake start in the front end. Good thing I got the speed scrubbed off before all the air left the front tire. As it was, it was very hard to control. I brought the bike to a stop and got off. The front tire was totally flat.
Judy and a couple of the girls walked across the highway to a service station and made some phone calls in an attempt to find a bike shop that was open. Good luck on that.
But, as luck would have it, she did find a Yamaha dealer where the owner had just stopped in to check on something. Someone really looks after little children, dogs, and innocent motorcycle riders. Since he was only a few minutes from us, he agreed to bring us a tire.
Rene, RT’s wife, had been elected to sit on the back of the bike to keep the front end off the ground while Danny and I removed the wheel. We got to the service station just as the Yamaha dealer drove up with the new tire. Judy paid him while Danny and I put the new tire on.
We were real lucky here in more ways than one. I did not wreck the bike, we found a new tire, and made the switch with a minimum of down time. Back on the road again, we continued uneventfully on our trip, reaching home around 6:00 pm.
Everyone was pleasantly tired, with very fond memories of this first trip; the hail storm, the ice cream in Valley View, the warm welcome at the Texian Inn, the Mesquite rodeo, South Fork Ranch, the Bar B Que, ice cream in the hot tub, the Catfish and even that unexpected flat tire. Yeah, buddy!
We'll do this again next year...and the next...and the next...
Saturday, October 2, 2010
41. The Fast Colorado Trip
One summer we planned a group vacation ride to Colorado. Starting out, there were seven couples in all. We always looked forward to this type of trip. But, as the saying goes, the best laid plans of mice and men...
First off, two couples cancelled a couple of weeks before the departure date due to work demands. No big deal, we’d miss them but we still had five couples. Oops, did I say five? For a moment there we did, but then, another couple had to cancel for illness in the family. Again, no biggie. A smaller, more manageable group would actually be more efficient. Four couples left. Just the right size for entering restaurants for quick service. We can still do this.
But the damage is not yet done. Another couple backs out because of more family illness. Now we’re down to three couples; Gary and Judy T, along with Wayne and Pat will go with us. Well, they are all superb traveling companions and we’ve ridden lots of miles with them. Good folks to ride the river with.
Monday morning before the departure time on Friday afternoon sees the final cruelty strike. I too, must cancel out because of work issues! This snowballs because Wayne and Pat then dropped out thinking Gary and Judy T were bailing too.
Damnation! What evil is being visited upon our small, round, heads? How can everybody cancel out on a great trip like this? What about all the pre trip publicity we wrote about in the Intercom Newsletter leading up to this trip?
Departure time came. Went. Nobody left. We all felt so sorry for ourselves. This surely would have been a great trip.
After a couple of weeks, Judy and I started putting together “The Intercom” which was the name of our monthly newsletter. What would have been a great trip report left a huge gaping hole in our little publication.
As I sat there suffering from writer’s block, it came to me in a flash that I should go ahead and write up a trip report any way! I would use what is called poetic license and fabricate a fantastic trip! So, what follows is the story that was printed in the monthly newsletter.
Bill and Terry, accompanied by their wives, decided to go to Neosho Honda in Neosho, Missouri on Saturday morning since the trip was cancelled. While there, they traded bikes as they had offers they couldn’t refuse. Also they learned that their reason for cancelling the trip was rescheduled so suddenly they were free to go!
Plus they had brand new bikes to ride on the long awaited trip. They called us and excitedly told us the double dose of good news; brand new bikes and the trip was on again for them!
We had good news of our own. My planning meetings scheduled for the next week had also been rescheduled. I too was suddenly free to go! So now we are three couples and four bikes. We called Gary and Carolyn, Carl and Carol, and Hugh and Carol. Since they had cancelled because most of us had cancelled, they were only too happy to load up and leave out right away. So the only ones missing are Gary and Judy T who we could not reach on the phone.
Bill and Terry said they knew a short cut from Neosho, Missouri to Colorado Springs, Colorado. Great! We’ll all meet up at the Silver Saddle Motel in Manitou Springs tomorrow. (for those who live in Topeka, look at the map. Short cut? Impossible!)
Gary and Carolyn, who owned the Bakery and Deli of Ah’s (pun on Oz, get it?) said they had planned a surprise for us and left a few hours earlier than the rest of the gang. Said they would meet us at the campsite at Dillon Lake. (I just realized how many Gary’s and Carol’s we have in our group)
Blessed with great weather, we high tailed it to WaKeeney, Kansas for our first night. Getting an early start the next morning, we made it to Manitou Springs to find Bill and Terry waiting for us. We looked at the beautiful new bikes and congratulated them on moving up. Early next morning we left for Dillon Lake.
We arrived there in mid afternoon to find Carolyn busy baking bread, pies and twice baked potatoes in rented ovens. So...this was the big surprise she had planned. No, not quite all; Gary had set out long fishing lines in the lake and caught many, many, Rainbow trout. Boy, were we going to eat good tonight!
Next morning there was a heavy frost and ice rimmed the water glasses we had left out. Carol, who is always cold, went into Dillon to buy a warm coat. Hugh went along with Carl and Carol to buy a warm hat to keep his head warm. What bargains they found.
Carol bought a splendid muskrat coat and Hugh picked up a raccoon hat with ear flaps and a tail for his head. Every one was really having a good time on this trip. While there, Carol struck up a conversation with a nice fellow that was in the store. She talked quite a while before she suddenly took a hard look at him He turned out to be; Robert Redford!! His own self!
He was on a new BMW and was accompanied by a really pretty girl named Elise, who was some kind of French film star, whatever that means. Bob and Elise followed them back to our camp and had supper with us. He had brought along several bottles of high dollar white wine to go with our trout and homemade bread supper.
Allowing our supper to settle, we chatted around the camp fire for a while and when Bob and Elise left for Aspen, they invited us up to his place in Aspen. Hey, would we turn down an invitation from the Sundance Kid? Not likely.
But the next morning dawned cool and gray, with light rain falling. We made slow time crossing Independence Pass which was so foggy visibility was reduced to less than 200 feet. We eased on down to Aspen and made our way to Bob’s place where he welcomed us in. We crowded around his huge fireplace trying to dry out and warm up.
A faint smell began to permeate the room. As we began getting warmer, the source was tracked down to Carol’s muskrat coat. After a while, it became unbearable and was taken outside. We had a nice brunch, talked with Elise and Bob for a while and then had to get headed on down to South Pass for the night.
As we crossed Slumgullion Pass, the rain hit us again. This is not a great day, but at least most of the places we stop for gas and snacks have big fireplaces which means that Carol’s coat is getting ranker by the hour.
After being thrown out of a restaurant, Carol is gettin’ more than a little testy about her coat now. No matter; soon enough, we’re on our way crossing South Pass and heading down to Salida for our last night in Colorado. Fortunately, we camp at Texas Creek on this night and Carol’s coat is not mentioned again.
Up early next day and we’re on our way before 0700. We roll into the little town of Trinidad about three hours later and descend upon a Wendy’s that has just set up the noon buffet tables. Have you ever been so fatigued that your hands are like clumsy softballs? Try riding a motorcycle for 5 hours in cool weather on sharp twisted roads and see if they don’t cramp up something bad.
With this impaired fine motor control of fingers, we made a hell of a mess of the salad and hot food bar. It looked like a pack of rats had run through. We felt bad about the mess, but there wasn’t much we could do about it. We also decorated our shirts with food particles and left Wendy’s somewhat embarrassed.
Next stop; Garden City, Kansas. We’ll stay overnight here and make it home tomorrow. We stayed at the Wheatlands Motel and trashed that restaurant as well. Damn, we sure were messy. Tomorrow will be warm and still with mostly straight roads so the fumble fingers should go away.
By 1630, we were home. Bill and Terry rode ahead as some of their accessories for their new bikes should be in and they couldn’t wait to put on all the lights, bells, and whistles. This was a good break in ride for those two bikes.
Carol parted company with her muskrat coat as the smell was really fierce and intense by now; not unlike a wet dog. It was warm enough to where she wasn’t cold any more anyway.
But, Hugh kept his raccoon cap. Seemed he would rather let his gourd get wet than to mess up his new headgear.
Gary and Carolyn headed for their bakery to see if the vacation staff had broken anything.
Judy and I went home to write up the trip report. Thus ended the story of the fast Colorado Trip. Or...did it?
The aftermath of this story had some unforeseen amusing effects. You may recall that Gary and Judy T were among the original group that were going on this ride. We had tried to contact them to see if they wanted to go along with our fictitious ride, but could not reach them.
There was an excellent reason why we couldn’t reach them. They had ridden out to Colorado and crossed the passes we only wrote about!!! They were the only ones who actually went, but sad to say they were not even mentioned in the story! They were somewhat miffed, to say the least!
But the couple that was really offended was Wayne and Pat. Wayne checked his mail that fateful day and brought the newsletter in to read with his supper. As he read about our trip to Colorado, he got real mad, stopped reading, and threw the newsletter away. He really thought we had all left without them.
Next day, Pat retrieved the newsletter and read the whole wacky story, laughing like hell when she realized what we had done and how Wayne had been taken in. Best of all, we didn’t disappoint those folks who fell for this fiction and really thought we had a great trip.
Unintended consequences. Hey, sometimes less is more!!
First off, two couples cancelled a couple of weeks before the departure date due to work demands. No big deal, we’d miss them but we still had five couples. Oops, did I say five? For a moment there we did, but then, another couple had to cancel for illness in the family. Again, no biggie. A smaller, more manageable group would actually be more efficient. Four couples left. Just the right size for entering restaurants for quick service. We can still do this.
But the damage is not yet done. Another couple backs out because of more family illness. Now we’re down to three couples; Gary and Judy T, along with Wayne and Pat will go with us. Well, they are all superb traveling companions and we’ve ridden lots of miles with them. Good folks to ride the river with.
Monday morning before the departure time on Friday afternoon sees the final cruelty strike. I too, must cancel out because of work issues! This snowballs because Wayne and Pat then dropped out thinking Gary and Judy T were bailing too.
Damnation! What evil is being visited upon our small, round, heads? How can everybody cancel out on a great trip like this? What about all the pre trip publicity we wrote about in the Intercom Newsletter leading up to this trip?
Departure time came. Went. Nobody left. We all felt so sorry for ourselves. This surely would have been a great trip.
After a couple of weeks, Judy and I started putting together “The Intercom” which was the name of our monthly newsletter. What would have been a great trip report left a huge gaping hole in our little publication.
As I sat there suffering from writer’s block, it came to me in a flash that I should go ahead and write up a trip report any way! I would use what is called poetic license and fabricate a fantastic trip! So, what follows is the story that was printed in the monthly newsletter.
Bill and Terry, accompanied by their wives, decided to go to Neosho Honda in Neosho, Missouri on Saturday morning since the trip was cancelled. While there, they traded bikes as they had offers they couldn’t refuse. Also they learned that their reason for cancelling the trip was rescheduled so suddenly they were free to go!
Plus they had brand new bikes to ride on the long awaited trip. They called us and excitedly told us the double dose of good news; brand new bikes and the trip was on again for them!
We had good news of our own. My planning meetings scheduled for the next week had also been rescheduled. I too was suddenly free to go! So now we are three couples and four bikes. We called Gary and Carolyn, Carl and Carol, and Hugh and Carol. Since they had cancelled because most of us had cancelled, they were only too happy to load up and leave out right away. So the only ones missing are Gary and Judy T who we could not reach on the phone.
Bill and Terry said they knew a short cut from Neosho, Missouri to Colorado Springs, Colorado. Great! We’ll all meet up at the Silver Saddle Motel in Manitou Springs tomorrow. (for those who live in Topeka, look at the map. Short cut? Impossible!)
Gary and Carolyn, who owned the Bakery and Deli of Ah’s (pun on Oz, get it?) said they had planned a surprise for us and left a few hours earlier than the rest of the gang. Said they would meet us at the campsite at Dillon Lake. (I just realized how many Gary’s and Carol’s we have in our group)
Blessed with great weather, we high tailed it to WaKeeney, Kansas for our first night. Getting an early start the next morning, we made it to Manitou Springs to find Bill and Terry waiting for us. We looked at the beautiful new bikes and congratulated them on moving up. Early next morning we left for Dillon Lake.
We arrived there in mid afternoon to find Carolyn busy baking bread, pies and twice baked potatoes in rented ovens. So...this was the big surprise she had planned. No, not quite all; Gary had set out long fishing lines in the lake and caught many, many, Rainbow trout. Boy, were we going to eat good tonight!
Next morning there was a heavy frost and ice rimmed the water glasses we had left out. Carol, who is always cold, went into Dillon to buy a warm coat. Hugh went along with Carl and Carol to buy a warm hat to keep his head warm. What bargains they found.
Carol bought a splendid muskrat coat and Hugh picked up a raccoon hat with ear flaps and a tail for his head. Every one was really having a good time on this trip. While there, Carol struck up a conversation with a nice fellow that was in the store. She talked quite a while before she suddenly took a hard look at him He turned out to be; Robert Redford!! His own self!
He was on a new BMW and was accompanied by a really pretty girl named Elise, who was some kind of French film star, whatever that means. Bob and Elise followed them back to our camp and had supper with us. He had brought along several bottles of high dollar white wine to go with our trout and homemade bread supper.
Allowing our supper to settle, we chatted around the camp fire for a while and when Bob and Elise left for Aspen, they invited us up to his place in Aspen. Hey, would we turn down an invitation from the Sundance Kid? Not likely.
But the next morning dawned cool and gray, with light rain falling. We made slow time crossing Independence Pass which was so foggy visibility was reduced to less than 200 feet. We eased on down to Aspen and made our way to Bob’s place where he welcomed us in. We crowded around his huge fireplace trying to dry out and warm up.
A faint smell began to permeate the room. As we began getting warmer, the source was tracked down to Carol’s muskrat coat. After a while, it became unbearable and was taken outside. We had a nice brunch, talked with Elise and Bob for a while and then had to get headed on down to South Pass for the night.
As we crossed Slumgullion Pass, the rain hit us again. This is not a great day, but at least most of the places we stop for gas and snacks have big fireplaces which means that Carol’s coat is getting ranker by the hour.
After being thrown out of a restaurant, Carol is gettin’ more than a little testy about her coat now. No matter; soon enough, we’re on our way crossing South Pass and heading down to Salida for our last night in Colorado. Fortunately, we camp at Texas Creek on this night and Carol’s coat is not mentioned again.
Up early next day and we’re on our way before 0700. We roll into the little town of Trinidad about three hours later and descend upon a Wendy’s that has just set up the noon buffet tables. Have you ever been so fatigued that your hands are like clumsy softballs? Try riding a motorcycle for 5 hours in cool weather on sharp twisted roads and see if they don’t cramp up something bad.
With this impaired fine motor control of fingers, we made a hell of a mess of the salad and hot food bar. It looked like a pack of rats had run through. We felt bad about the mess, but there wasn’t much we could do about it. We also decorated our shirts with food particles and left Wendy’s somewhat embarrassed.
Next stop; Garden City, Kansas. We’ll stay overnight here and make it home tomorrow. We stayed at the Wheatlands Motel and trashed that restaurant as well. Damn, we sure were messy. Tomorrow will be warm and still with mostly straight roads so the fumble fingers should go away.
By 1630, we were home. Bill and Terry rode ahead as some of their accessories for their new bikes should be in and they couldn’t wait to put on all the lights, bells, and whistles. This was a good break in ride for those two bikes.
Carol parted company with her muskrat coat as the smell was really fierce and intense by now; not unlike a wet dog. It was warm enough to where she wasn’t cold any more anyway.
But, Hugh kept his raccoon cap. Seemed he would rather let his gourd get wet than to mess up his new headgear.
Gary and Carolyn headed for their bakery to see if the vacation staff had broken anything.
Judy and I went home to write up the trip report. Thus ended the story of the fast Colorado Trip. Or...did it?
The aftermath of this story had some unforeseen amusing effects. You may recall that Gary and Judy T were among the original group that were going on this ride. We had tried to contact them to see if they wanted to go along with our fictitious ride, but could not reach them.
There was an excellent reason why we couldn’t reach them. They had ridden out to Colorado and crossed the passes we only wrote about!!! They were the only ones who actually went, but sad to say they were not even mentioned in the story! They were somewhat miffed, to say the least!
But the couple that was really offended was Wayne and Pat. Wayne checked his mail that fateful day and brought the newsletter in to read with his supper. As he read about our trip to Colorado, he got real mad, stopped reading, and threw the newsletter away. He really thought we had all left without them.
Next day, Pat retrieved the newsletter and read the whole wacky story, laughing like hell when she realized what we had done and how Wayne had been taken in. Best of all, we didn’t disappoint those folks who fell for this fiction and really thought we had a great trip.
Unintended consequences. Hey, sometimes less is more!!
Friday, October 1, 2010
40. Deep Dish Apple Pie
Imagine, if you will, a piece of apple pie in the round, 6 inches in diameter, 4 inches tall, with tart, crispy, crunchy, Granny Smith apples, covered with a delicate buttered cinnamon crust, and topped off with a double scoop of Blue Bell vanilla ice cream. A meal unto itself.
Sitting around the bike shop in Big Spring, Texas, one Friday evening, someone suggested that we ride over to the Triple T Truck stop(actually Omar’s Hiway Chef Restaurant) in the morning and partake of this tasty treat. The more I heard about it, the more I became convinced I had to try this.
So bright and early the next morning, promptly at 6:00 am, a motley crew of six of us, headed west on I-20 bound for the only truck stop that specialized in this rare treat. The day was magnificent for West Texas, very little wind, hence no blowing sand. Mild temperatures, bikes running strong, CB chatter better than an FM radio with all the irritating commercials, we were on a super trip for deep dish apple pie! I couldn’t wait. Our destination was the Triple T truck stop. Yeah, baby, lead me on!
Over the years, on our rides, I have been conditioned to simply follow Miss Judy. As a result, I rarely look at a road map, trusting instead to the lead bike choosing the way. In this fashion, I can zone out and just enjoy the ride. I can now tell you, this was not wise today, but ignorance is bliss as the saying goes.
Everyone should know the final destination so that if the group becomes fragmented, no one will have to ride recklessly fast to catch up. Just a good safety rule, but sometimes...ah, well. That’s what makes for great stories.
After a couple of hours westbound on I 20 as we stopped at the Monahans rest area, I thought it prudent to ask Willie, the ride leader how soon we would enjoying this deep dish apple pie. Just a little while yet, but it’s really worth it. All righty, then. Hammer on down.
Pretty soon we were seeing signs that I 20 would be merging with I 10 west bound. I also noted the trip meter was showing close to 250 miles since we left Big Spring. This was becoming a damn long pie ride if you ask me.
A couple more hours go by and I’m noticing that we’re approaching El Paso on our left . As we enter New Mexico, it begins to dawn on me that there’s more to this pie ride than I am aware of. When we stop in Las Cruces, New Mexico, for gas and a quick hamburger, I grill Willie about where the hell is this truck stop.
At this point I am told it’s the Triple T truck stop that has this fine pie. Yeah, I got that before we left, but what I don’t get is where is the Triple T truck stop. I mean just where in the hell is the Triple T truck stop!!??
It’s in Tucson, Arizona.
Oh. Oh? OH!!!!
Belatedly, I get out the road atlas and discover the distance to Tucson, Arizona, one way, from Big Spring, Texas, is a mere 653 miles! Judy was fit to be tied when I called to report in and mention I would not be home till late Sunday night! Maybe even...Monday morning.
Damnation! Everybody laughs at my reaction as I realize I have been snookered and slowly accept that fact. Oh, what the hell, it’s been a grand ride so far and I am, after all, in the company of evil companions. Seeing as we’re well past the point of no return so I might as well relax and enjoy the rest of the ride.
We continue on past towns with exotic names; Dona, Akela, Deming, Lisbon Siding and as we enter Arizona, we pass Roadforks!
We ride on and on, passing Pomerene, Mountain View, and Vail. Suddenly, there it is! The Triple T truck stop is just ahead. It’s nearly 3:00 in the morning and we’ve been on the road since 7:00 am the previous day. This pie better be good.
The pies come out of the ovens at 3:00 in the morning, and are served piping hot with Blue Bell vanilla ice cream. This then, was the reasoning behind the day long ride. I rode all this way to experience this phenomena, so I ate the whole thing. Was it good? Oh, yeah.
Good enough for a 1,400 mile round trip? Yes, sorta, but if I had known the distance before hand, I would have planned a longer trip to further explore southern Arizona over several days. Regardless, after we finished the pie, we headed for a rest area Willie knew about.
Under a covered pavilion, on picnic tables, we grabbed about two hours sleep, wrapped up in rain gear for warmth. Light was just breaking in the east as we pulled back on the road; hell bound for Big Spring, Texas. Gonna be a long day.
One thing about super slab travel, the miles just fall away, but the quality of the ride is not what the more sedate back roads provide. But in cases like now, we have to get back to Big Spring in time to get a little rest. The work week begins in less than 24 hours and we have 660 miles to go.
So, the speed increases, the rest stops get shorter and further apart, and meals are grab ‘n go. No one is talking on the CB as it just takes too much energy. So the trip home becomes a journey of endurance. Not really unpleasant, just sort of...empty.
But this too has it’s rewards. It’s a good place and time to think serious thoughts or just review upcoming events. This is something that is an unexpected benefit of long distance touring.
So we overcome the distance with efficient riding, limiting the frequency and duration of rest stops and finally around midnight we are approaching the Midland/Odessa exit which means we are about an hour from home.
At last I pull into the garage at home and switch off the engine. Thanks to this trip I will have to change the oil and filter again and do a major clean up before the next ride. Judy wants to know all about the trip, where did we go, was the pie that good. Arrgh! I can’t talk now. I collapse on the couch and am asleep in nano seconds.
A few weeks later, I’m back at the bike shop on a Friday evening. Guys are setting around talking about setting up a schedule of rides when a newcomer, Randall Rocket enters the shop to purchase some items. He’s offered coffee, we introduce ourselves and learn that he’s from back east; New Jersey, for cryin’ out loud. A real pettyfoggin’ Yankee! He even rides a wimpy BMW!!
Then someone casually mentions how nice it would be to ride over in the morning and get some Deep Dish Apple Pie. Randall asks all the right questions about this ride and before you know it, he’s hooked! Yeah, buddy! Randall thinks this sounds like fun.
Ah, yes, Randall, m’ boy. It will be fun. Welcome to Texas!
Sitting around the bike shop in Big Spring, Texas, one Friday evening, someone suggested that we ride over to the Triple T Truck stop(actually Omar’s Hiway Chef Restaurant) in the morning and partake of this tasty treat. The more I heard about it, the more I became convinced I had to try this.
So bright and early the next morning, promptly at 6:00 am, a motley crew of six of us, headed west on I-20 bound for the only truck stop that specialized in this rare treat. The day was magnificent for West Texas, very little wind, hence no blowing sand. Mild temperatures, bikes running strong, CB chatter better than an FM radio with all the irritating commercials, we were on a super trip for deep dish apple pie! I couldn’t wait. Our destination was the Triple T truck stop. Yeah, baby, lead me on!
Over the years, on our rides, I have been conditioned to simply follow Miss Judy. As a result, I rarely look at a road map, trusting instead to the lead bike choosing the way. In this fashion, I can zone out and just enjoy the ride. I can now tell you, this was not wise today, but ignorance is bliss as the saying goes.
Everyone should know the final destination so that if the group becomes fragmented, no one will have to ride recklessly fast to catch up. Just a good safety rule, but sometimes...ah, well. That’s what makes for great stories.
After a couple of hours westbound on I 20 as we stopped at the Monahans rest area, I thought it prudent to ask Willie, the ride leader how soon we would enjoying this deep dish apple pie. Just a little while yet, but it’s really worth it. All righty, then. Hammer on down.
Pretty soon we were seeing signs that I 20 would be merging with I 10 west bound. I also noted the trip meter was showing close to 250 miles since we left Big Spring. This was becoming a damn long pie ride if you ask me.
A couple more hours go by and I’m noticing that we’re approaching El Paso on our left . As we enter New Mexico, it begins to dawn on me that there’s more to this pie ride than I am aware of. When we stop in Las Cruces, New Mexico, for gas and a quick hamburger, I grill Willie about where the hell is this truck stop.
At this point I am told it’s the Triple T truck stop that has this fine pie. Yeah, I got that before we left, but what I don’t get is where is the Triple T truck stop. I mean just where in the hell is the Triple T truck stop!!??
It’s in Tucson, Arizona.
Oh. Oh? OH!!!!
Belatedly, I get out the road atlas and discover the distance to Tucson, Arizona, one way, from Big Spring, Texas, is a mere 653 miles! Judy was fit to be tied when I called to report in and mention I would not be home till late Sunday night! Maybe even...Monday morning.
Damnation! Everybody laughs at my reaction as I realize I have been snookered and slowly accept that fact. Oh, what the hell, it’s been a grand ride so far and I am, after all, in the company of evil companions. Seeing as we’re well past the point of no return so I might as well relax and enjoy the rest of the ride.
We continue on past towns with exotic names; Dona, Akela, Deming, Lisbon Siding and as we enter Arizona, we pass Roadforks!
We ride on and on, passing Pomerene, Mountain View, and Vail. Suddenly, there it is! The Triple T truck stop is just ahead. It’s nearly 3:00 in the morning and we’ve been on the road since 7:00 am the previous day. This pie better be good.
The pies come out of the ovens at 3:00 in the morning, and are served piping hot with Blue Bell vanilla ice cream. This then, was the reasoning behind the day long ride. I rode all this way to experience this phenomena, so I ate the whole thing. Was it good? Oh, yeah.
Good enough for a 1,400 mile round trip? Yes, sorta, but if I had known the distance before hand, I would have planned a longer trip to further explore southern Arizona over several days. Regardless, after we finished the pie, we headed for a rest area Willie knew about.
Under a covered pavilion, on picnic tables, we grabbed about two hours sleep, wrapped up in rain gear for warmth. Light was just breaking in the east as we pulled back on the road; hell bound for Big Spring, Texas. Gonna be a long day.
One thing about super slab travel, the miles just fall away, but the quality of the ride is not what the more sedate back roads provide. But in cases like now, we have to get back to Big Spring in time to get a little rest. The work week begins in less than 24 hours and we have 660 miles to go.
So, the speed increases, the rest stops get shorter and further apart, and meals are grab ‘n go. No one is talking on the CB as it just takes too much energy. So the trip home becomes a journey of endurance. Not really unpleasant, just sort of...empty.
But this too has it’s rewards. It’s a good place and time to think serious thoughts or just review upcoming events. This is something that is an unexpected benefit of long distance touring.
So we overcome the distance with efficient riding, limiting the frequency and duration of rest stops and finally around midnight we are approaching the Midland/Odessa exit which means we are about an hour from home.
At last I pull into the garage at home and switch off the engine. Thanks to this trip I will have to change the oil and filter again and do a major clean up before the next ride. Judy wants to know all about the trip, where did we go, was the pie that good. Arrgh! I can’t talk now. I collapse on the couch and am asleep in nano seconds.
A few weeks later, I’m back at the bike shop on a Friday evening. Guys are setting around talking about setting up a schedule of rides when a newcomer, Randall Rocket enters the shop to purchase some items. He’s offered coffee, we introduce ourselves and learn that he’s from back east; New Jersey, for cryin’ out loud. A real pettyfoggin’ Yankee! He even rides a wimpy BMW!!
Then someone casually mentions how nice it would be to ride over in the morning and get some Deep Dish Apple Pie. Randall asks all the right questions about this ride and before you know it, he’s hooked! Yeah, buddy! Randall thinks this sounds like fun.
Ah, yes, Randall, m’ boy. It will be fun. Welcome to Texas!
39. The XS Eleven - Part Two
As mentioned earlier, this wonderful little bike came to a bad end when I took my eyes off the road for a moment to wave at one of the Administrative secretaries.
The front wheel T-boned a Fire Bird, sending me flying over the hood and inflicting severe damage to the XS Eleven.
The front fork tubes were bent, the framed was tweaked, the fairing was destroyed, and the rider was whacked around by the owner. We sent out the fork tubes to be straightened; and after a period of recovery from my battle wounds, I used a porta power device to push back the angle of the forks from 25 degrees to 27.5 degrees. Factory specs call for 29 degrees.
I picked up a cheap fairing for $50 and slid the rebuilt fork tubes into the triple tree. Hmmm, something seems to be amiss. When installed properly in the recessed grooves and tightened to the specified torque, the bike somehow seemed...taller. That’s a serious deflection for a mere 1.5 degree change.
I raised the tubes up to compensate for the changed angle and took it for a ride. It still had the pavement scorching performance and it tracked true, but the reduced angle made the bike much quicker to handle. Just think about changing lanes and you were there.
Sadly, I knew the bike had come to the end of it’s time with us. Judy would never trust it again, nor could I so we sold it cheap, telling the new owner about the bent frame. He told us he was going to have that straightened on a frame machine over in Odessa and it should be good as new. Sad day for all concerned.
Motorcycles have individual personalities and this one for sure had a fine spirit. Let‘s hope it‘s happy in its’ new home.
The front wheel T-boned a Fire Bird, sending me flying over the hood and inflicting severe damage to the XS Eleven.
The front fork tubes were bent, the framed was tweaked, the fairing was destroyed, and the rider was whacked around by the owner. We sent out the fork tubes to be straightened; and after a period of recovery from my battle wounds, I used a porta power device to push back the angle of the forks from 25 degrees to 27.5 degrees. Factory specs call for 29 degrees.
I picked up a cheap fairing for $50 and slid the rebuilt fork tubes into the triple tree. Hmmm, something seems to be amiss. When installed properly in the recessed grooves and tightened to the specified torque, the bike somehow seemed...taller. That’s a serious deflection for a mere 1.5 degree change.
I raised the tubes up to compensate for the changed angle and took it for a ride. It still had the pavement scorching performance and it tracked true, but the reduced angle made the bike much quicker to handle. Just think about changing lanes and you were there.
Sadly, I knew the bike had come to the end of it’s time with us. Judy would never trust it again, nor could I so we sold it cheap, telling the new owner about the bent frame. He told us he was going to have that straightened on a frame machine over in Odessa and it should be good as new. Sad day for all concerned.
Motorcycles have individual personalities and this one for sure had a fine spirit. Let‘s hope it‘s happy in its’ new home.
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