We get up .... and it's raining - a lot. Oh Joy. Dave and Cipi are into their 5th day with rain. Happy Victoria Day. I'm up a bit early to work on the blog and spent time with the night desk guy. He is interested in our trip and dreams of owning a bike and having money to travel. He works 2 jobs to make ends meet but needs to spend $60/week for gas to shuttle between jobs. It's Sunday, and this conversation spawns the realization that we are blessed to have the resources and supportive families that allow us to enrich our lives on trips like these.
The radar tells us this is a narrow band of rain, intense at times so we should be out if it within a few hours, but we need to ride through it to get to better weather. At least it's warmer, and for me, I reset the venting in my helmet. Yesterday was murder in the rain and cold - which caused extensive fogging in my helmet. I could barely see the road at times, and that is dangerous.
Ryan's bike won't start. Battery is dead. The rest of us were circling the Lowes parking lot, splashing in the rain and are called back to push start the aging Honda PC (Pacific Coast). As we depart the hotel to get back on the Trace, lightning and thunder announce the weather's intent to NOT cooperate. We skip on a tour of Elvis Presley's birth home in order to get to dry weather faster.
A few miles out of town we see a sign that announces tornado damage from 2011. There are no homes out here but the destruction is massive. Not only that, it goes on for miles. I think this must be from multiple storms because tornadoes are not that wide. The biggest would be a mile wide, but those are rare. The damage we see goes on for perhaps 10 miles. The message is simple - don't build a house in this area, and if you do, build a bomb shelter. Problem is, the area is not well to do. A large home sells for $268K. A funny sight are the trees that had branches stripped from tip to toe, but survived the damage. Leaves grow back and they look like big sticks with fuzzy green balls.
The landscape is flat now as we approach the Mississippi. We are warned several times to keep to the speed limit - there are cops and park rangers everywhere. The advise is respected for a long time but then, Tom an Cipi need to let 'er rip. They take off. We catch up at the next rest stop. It's 25C and we strip down to tshirts and mesh to adjust to the new climate. Sun is out and life is good. As we wait, a few cop cars zip by - we look at each other - luck they weren't there when we were ripping up the road. We make a resolution to keep within 10 mph of the limit. That lasts for a few hours and then Cipi signals Dave - "Let's go". Dave rejects the first offer but then breaks loose from the gang and the two of them take off. They don't get 2 curves ahead and their concentration is blasted by flashing lights. Haul on the binders and pray (funny how a few miles over the speed limit can generate a calling to God). This was a theme to follow us for the rest of the day.
At one spot, we see 4 police and ranger cars pass us. One of them, a red sleeper Hemi powered Charger whipped by us at incredible speed. Apparently, this model is good for 200 mph, and this guy was doing close to the limit. He was driving in the middle of the road and the wind over the vehicle sounded like an airplane. We speculate on the cause for this urgency and agree that it's probably more than end of shift or free donuts at the local bakery. We would find out a bit further down the road. The first hint came for the group of Harleys that passed us patting the top of their helmets. This is the universal sign that coppers are ahead. We are winding along a big lake when we come across the scene. There are 6 police cars, lit up like a vegas casino, ripping apart a big new Suburban. Our red Charger is there proudly covering it's catch, like a cat with a fresh bird. Several individuals are clearly in a state of arrest. We ponder what caused such a response.
We would find the answer later in Jackson. There again, two police cars enter the roadway, sirens and lights blazing. They don't get far down the road and we come up to the scene of destruction. Several cars are involved in a massive collision. Three vehicles are heavily damaged, one in the ditch 15 feet below the roadway. Hopefully no one was killed, but injuries were certain. We speculate that the Suburban was involved and then bolted.
The Trace ends at Natchez. We are hungry and look for a place to eat. This town is depressing. Definitely not economically viable. Plus, it's Sunday and EVERYTHING is closed for the Lord's day. The county is dry as well. There are two locations worth eating at. A BBQ and Mexican. We've had BBQ so we choose Mexican. It's sort of like a snack place so the menu is small. We order Tamales and a Boudin with iced tea. We are now officially in ice tea territory. It's also a Progressive Waste location and we see blue bins.
Cipi is not happy that the food is not fit to eat and is a bit grumpy as we cross the great Mississipi. It's a wide river and flows quickly in this location. The barges and riverboat speak to the river legacy. We are heading to Alexandria for the evening - 80 miles down the road. Again, we find a fast road and adjust our speed. I look in my rear view mirror and Jeff and Ryan are no where to be seen, but the SUV with the light bar on the roof fills my mirror because it's 20 feet off my back tire. Sh*T, I'm do ing 73 in a 55 zone. He tails me for a few mins, I have found religion again and am composing my greeting for the inevitable. After, what seems to be an eternity, nothing happens and he passes me to follow Tom. Nothing again, he passes and goes on. Must have been late for dinner.
Just outside of Alexandria, we stop for gas. Ryan's bike is on E. The needle doesn't move when he turns the key. The local boys talk to us about the bikes. They warn us which counties to keep the the speed limit. That is a key benefit of these trips - talking to the locals.
Dinner is at the only place open in town. We are concerned about food safely but it turns out right. It's the first warm day and we are giddy. The laughter at dinner make the waitress wonder what we were smoking. We can't stop. Our waitress is 37 and she's a grand mother. Things sure are different down here. We tip her well - she can use the money and she is genuinely grateful. Tomorrow we go to the Gulf. Jeff wants to swim on a beach.
The radar tells us this is a narrow band of rain, intense at times so we should be out if it within a few hours, but we need to ride through it to get to better weather. At least it's warmer, and for me, I reset the venting in my helmet. Yesterday was murder in the rain and cold - which caused extensive fogging in my helmet. I could barely see the road at times, and that is dangerous.
Ryan's bike won't start. Battery is dead. The rest of us were circling the Lowes parking lot, splashing in the rain and are called back to push start the aging Honda PC (Pacific Coast). As we depart the hotel to get back on the Trace, lightning and thunder announce the weather's intent to NOT cooperate. We skip on a tour of Elvis Presley's birth home in order to get to dry weather faster.
A few miles out of town we see a sign that announces tornado damage from 2011. There are no homes out here but the destruction is massive. Not only that, it goes on for miles. I think this must be from multiple storms because tornadoes are not that wide. The biggest would be a mile wide, but those are rare. The damage we see goes on for perhaps 10 miles. The message is simple - don't build a house in this area, and if you do, build a bomb shelter. Problem is, the area is not well to do. A large home sells for $268K. A funny sight are the trees that had branches stripped from tip to toe, but survived the damage. Leaves grow back and they look like big sticks with fuzzy green balls.
 |
| A break in between rain and sun |
The landscape is flat now as we approach the Mississippi. We are warned several times to keep to the speed limit - there are cops and park rangers everywhere. The advise is respected for a long time but then, Tom an Cipi need to let 'er rip. They take off. We catch up at the next rest stop. It's 25C and we strip down to tshirts and mesh to adjust to the new climate. Sun is out and life is good. As we wait, a few cop cars zip by - we look at each other - luck they weren't there when we were ripping up the road. We make a resolution to keep within 10 mph of the limit. That lasts for a few hours and then Cipi signals Dave - "Let's go". Dave rejects the first offer but then breaks loose from the gang and the two of them take off. They don't get 2 curves ahead and their concentration is blasted by flashing lights. Haul on the binders and pray (funny how a few miles over the speed limit can generate a calling to God). This was a theme to follow us for the rest of the day.
 |
| Finally, some sun |
At one spot, we see 4 police and ranger cars pass us. One of them, a red sleeper Hemi powered Charger whipped by us at incredible speed. Apparently, this model is good for 200 mph, and this guy was doing close to the limit. He was driving in the middle of the road and the wind over the vehicle sounded like an airplane. We speculate on the cause for this urgency and agree that it's probably more than end of shift or free donuts at the local bakery. We would find out a bit further down the road. The first hint came for the group of Harleys that passed us patting the top of their helmets. This is the universal sign that coppers are ahead. We are winding along a big lake when we come across the scene. There are 6 police cars, lit up like a vegas casino, ripping apart a big new Suburban. Our red Charger is there proudly covering it's catch, like a cat with a fresh bird. Several individuals are clearly in a state of arrest. We ponder what caused such a response.
We would find the answer later in Jackson. There again, two police cars enter the roadway, sirens and lights blazing. They don't get far down the road and we come up to the scene of destruction. Several cars are involved in a massive collision. Three vehicles are heavily damaged, one in the ditch 15 feet below the roadway. Hopefully no one was killed, but injuries were certain. We speculate that the Suburban was involved and then bolted.
The Trace ends at Natchez. We are hungry and look for a place to eat. This town is depressing. Definitely not economically viable. Plus, it's Sunday and EVERYTHING is closed for the Lord's day. The county is dry as well. There are two locations worth eating at. A BBQ and Mexican. We've had BBQ so we choose Mexican. It's sort of like a snack place so the menu is small. We order Tamales and a Boudin with iced tea. We are now officially in ice tea territory. It's also a Progressive Waste location and we see blue bins.
Cipi is not happy that the food is not fit to eat and is a bit grumpy as we cross the great Mississipi. It's a wide river and flows quickly in this location. The barges and riverboat speak to the river legacy. We are heading to Alexandria for the evening - 80 miles down the road. Again, we find a fast road and adjust our speed. I look in my rear view mirror and Jeff and Ryan are no where to be seen, but the SUV with the light bar on the roof fills my mirror because it's 20 feet off my back tire. Sh*T, I'm do ing 73 in a 55 zone. He tails me for a few mins, I have found religion again and am composing my greeting for the inevitable. After, what seems to be an eternity, nothing happens and he passes me to follow Tom. Nothing again, he passes and goes on. Must have been late for dinner.
Just outside of Alexandria, we stop for gas. Ryan's bike is on E. The needle doesn't move when he turns the key. The local boys talk to us about the bikes. They warn us which counties to keep the the speed limit. That is a key benefit of these trips - talking to the locals.
Dinner is at the only place open in town. We are concerned about food safely but it turns out right. It's the first warm day and we are giddy. The laughter at dinner make the waitress wonder what we were smoking. We can't stop. Our waitress is 37 and she's a grand mother. Things sure are different down here. We tip her well - she can use the money and she is genuinely grateful. Tomorrow we go to the Gulf. Jeff wants to swim on a beach.
No comments:
Post a Comment